Sarah Perry (5)

Let’s be real. I think part of the reason we’re fascinated with true crime nonfiction is because we sometimes get to hear directly from the survivors. We get to be witness by proxy. Did they know what would happen? What did they see? How did they feel? Sarah Perry gets into all of this from the start of her memoir and the shock of her mother’s death is real and incredibly sobering. Perry doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable imagery and descriptions (e.g. the “sturgeon” will stay show more with me for a long, long time).

This is a powerful memoir about the repercussions of unspeakable violence and a daughter piecing together memories of her mother. show less

Very well written, gripping, page turning. Terrible story of the loss of a mother and the daughter who has somehow managed to move on. She ends on a happy note, and I only pray she’s found some true peace after it all. As much about the mother and daughter, their character and relationship as about the crime itself.

What struck me most about this moving memoir was the way the author so deftly showed the reader how others responded to her, how it made her feel, and how she understood their perspectives. When she felt like an outcast, I felt that way, too. I hadn't thought about how other kids at a school might say "That's weird" about another kid's mom being killed, or that a friend in New York, removed from any violence in her own life, might imply that her mother was killed because she was promiscuous. show more She showed us a side of a murder that was both upsetting and uncomfortable in a way I hadn't seen in a memoir like this before. show less

Wow. This is a powerful book.

In 1994, Sarah Perry’s mother, Crystal, was murdered in their home while Sarah was only a room away. It was a brutality I can’t even fathom. 12-year-old Sarah was thrust into a world of fear, abandonment, and unspeakable grief.

More than a recounting of events, Sarah gives the reader the complete atmosphere of growing up in rural Maine, and the people of the small town of Bridgton that made up her world. She delves into the person her mother was, and what show more made her who she was. This memoir is an attempt to know her mother, from the perspective of a grown woman cognizant of her mother’s life choices, her anguish over on-again, off-again relationships, and her love for her daughter. This story is also Sarah’s journey to discover herself, as she was as a 12-year-old girl enduring unbelievable tragedy, and now as an adult understanding the whole picture of Crystal Perry as a person.

So many adults in Sarah’s life tried to help her cope with this horrible “thing that happened,” but many were misguided in their kindness, or too blind with grief to offer anything of value. The fear that still resides in Sarah is palpable. It’s easy, as a reader, to think “this is an event that happened, once, a long time ago,” but for Sarah, it’s every day of her life, and she brings that idea to the forefront. Her memoir is courageous, it’s honest, and never indulges in self-pity.

I appreciated Sarah’s candor. She acknowledges her faults, the mistakes all of us make as adolescents. She allows herself room to ask questions, to wonder about her mother’s motivations, the relationships she maintained with men and with her friends. She wonders about the fallacy of memory and about the unreliability of what you think you know about those close to you. The research is impeccable. Sarah refers to police transcripts, interviews, and personal remembrances, but this never reads like a sterile report; it’s like sitting with your best friend and listening to her tell you her story.

I dropped everything else I was reading when I started reading After the Eclipse. It was compelling and at the same time humbling. Sarah’s foray into her past took unbelievable courage, and this memoir is a testament to her strength. The kind of strength, I’m sure, she got from her mother.


Many thanks to Sarah Perry for the advance copy.
This review is also posted on my blog at flyleafunfurled.com. show less