We Are Not Ourselves

This is a big book which could almost be in the manner of a “family saga,” but it is more introspective and less populated than many books of that genre. It tells the story of Eileen and Ed Leary and their in some ways very typical post-WW II American experience. Eileen, the child of Irish immigrants, is raised in New York and takes care of herself and her family in the midst of alcoholism and mental illness. When she marries kind and conservative Ed Leary, a scientist, she sees the possibility of a bigger and better life, with the material trappings that affluent suburbia can offer. But Ed is curiously unambitious and resists her prodding to move up the academic ladder.
Eileen is flawed, flinty, and completely believable. I show more sympathized with her frustration in the face of Ed’s passivity, and I really wanted to shake Ed sometimes until at a certain point in the narrative – I didn’t. That turn in the narrative was a surprise to me, so I’ll leave it alone here.
I believe this is Matthew Thomas’s first novel. In the depth and realism of the characters and in the keenly observed mores of the various decades the book spans, it is quite an achievement. show less

Eileen and Ed are a perfect example of the attraction of opposites. Eileen is a force of nature. Determined, committed, and stubborn, she knows what she wants and does not stop until she achieves it. Ed is the yin to her yang. Where she is forceful, he is unassuming. Where she is aspiring to greater heights, he keeps her grounded to reality. Together, they form a lovely example of marriage, its compromises, its hills and valleys, and the work that goes into a long-lasting relationship.

When things do start going downhill though, for reasons that readers will glean much sooner than Eileen is willing to face the truth, what follows is nothing but heartache, the kind that tears through one’s gut and rips one apart. What befalls Ed is such show more an ugly disease, and everything he does to prevent the inevitable is devastating once one knows what is happening.

That this all occurs while their son is still young and impressionable is one of the more tragic elements of the story, in a story that is almost too difficult to read at times. Connor must deal with watching his father’s very slow and humiliating decline in addition to facing the pressures of adolescence. His struggles will leave no one surprised, but that makes them no less difficult to watch unfold.

For readers who know of someone who is currently suffering from the same disease as Ed or has watched a loved one decline in the same fashion, We Are Not Ourselves is a very difficult story to read. Mr. Thomas captures the suffering of all involved, the guilt of those left behind, and the simple unfairness of a disease that takes a loved one away so cruelly. He even takes it one step further by showing just how the simple act of watching a parent suffer through the disease can impact a child’s actions and decisions. In many ways, We Are Not Ourselves raises awareness of the silent suffering of patients and families, and one can only hope that readers will hear the message and do anything they can to help find a cure or a preventative measure for this ruthless disease.

It is worth noting that my father-in-law is suffering from a similar fate as Ed. While he is not as young as Ed, much of what Eileen and Connor experience is almost exactly the same as what my mother-in-law faces on a daily basis and has for the last five years. To say that We Are Not Ourselves affected me personally is an understatement. There were times that I could not read any further that a few pages. As it was, I could only read this story in short bursts. Everything about it is so raw and so powerful that it put me into an emotional tailspin. I mentioned the novel to my husband but quickly decided that this was one book I would not let him read. He is living through the novel as it is; there is no need to make him experience it in print as well. My response to the story was so visceral that I would caution any reader with firsthand experience with a dementia disease on reading We Are Not Ourselves. Sometimes, especially with such diseases, there is such a thing as too much.

We Are Not Ourselves is intense and uninhibited and beautiful. Eileen suffers so much throughout her life but maintains a majestic dignity through it all. Yet, she is nothing special. She is every woman, and every woman is Eileen. Her bond with Ed is special, which makes the end so much more difficult to bear. Mr. Thomas gets everything correct about such diseases, and the picture he paints is every bit as ugly as real life can get. As the baby boomer generation ages, more and more families will experience a similar story to Eileen’s and Ed’s and will understand just how insightful We Are Not Ourselves truly is. show less

I don't often give books a four-star rating unless they are really good. This one is. it is a quiet story, one that goes along, pulling you in and asking some big questions about who we are, and what makes us so, but does it in a subtle way. I am an admitted libramaniac, no sooner finishing one book than scanning my lists for the next one. Not that I am just after the conquest, I often will ponder a book in the process of reading it. It's just that there are so many to be read! And just not enough time.

Well, it's the next day, and I am still thinking about this one. I have seen other reviews that said it was slow, or that it didn't keep them interested. I was the opposite. I kept reading the next chapter after I should have stopped for show more the evening because I just wanted it to keep on. Even after it ended, I wanted to know what was going to happen to the characters.

Not wanting to give anything away, but towards the end, there is a letter from one character to another that should be read, if nothing else in the book is read. But then, if you hadn't read the rest of the book, it wouldn't mean nearly so much. I only wish that I had received a letter like that one. show less

Eileen is only a young girl when we meet her at the beginning of the novel, but this book chronicles almost all of her life. From the early moments, that are reminiscent of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”, through the ups and downs of her marriage, this is Eileen’s story. As a young Irish American girl, Eileen has made her way in the world alongside her husband Ed. We follow multiple generations in her family, racing through the years alongside Eileen. When her life takes an unexpected turn, we are right there with her, baffled and overwhelmed by her new circumstances.

The strange thing about this novel is that it’s about everything and nothing all at once. There’s no massive plot twists or developments. Instead we follow these show more characters, slowly, through their lives. The struggles, emotions, moments of joy and frustration, we are there for all of it. Sometimes those details feel mundane, other times they make the novel more intimate. We are seeing every part of their lives laid bare.

It reminded me a bit of “Freedom” and “The Corrections”, except for the fact that I hate those books and I enjoyed this one. Where those struck me as condescending and whiny, this one felt raw and realistic.
The thing I loved about these characters is that at times I hated them. That might not seem like it makes a lot of sense but can you think of anyone you’re truly close to that you haven’t been furious with at some point? These are characters with depth, characters that make selfish decisions at times and at others they sacrifice the world for their family. They aren’t one-dimensional. It's much easier to see yourself in someone so flawed than someone who's perfect and easy to love.

The language in the novel is so gorgeous. Thomas writes in a way that makes you feel the pain and struggle and tenderness of every scene. He chronicles their lives in such intricate detail, including failed friendships, arguments between spouses, disappointment in a parent and so much more. It’s these everyday moments that make up the unique fabric of a family’s world. He breathes life in the characters through humiliating thoughts that can cross one's mind in private or the aching desire for something you can’t explain.

BOTTOM LINE: This is not an easy book to read. It’s heartbreaking in a way that’s at times too familiar for anyone who has dealt with illness in their family. The Leary family could be any family and it’s that element of universality that makes their story so moving. It’s not an uncommon struggle, but the author makes the tedious details of their life seem so important and recognizable and there’s a beauty in that relatability.

“Maybe your imagination stopped at the boundaries that contained it.”

“Empathy. He hadn't always had it. It was a muscle you had to develop and then keep conditioned.” show less

This reminded me of The Goldfinch, in that both Thomas and Tartt ran out of gas at the end - but perhaps that's just a way of saying I wanted to keep knowing what happened next, a good thing, so would have been disappointed by any ending. Thomas does a wonderful job of creating a largely unlikeable heroine - smug in her confidence in the rightness of what she wants for other people and what she thinks of them, oblivious to her own limited view of the world - and making us root for her, because the people around her so obviously need her to succeed. Whether it's the son who is, by virtue of being an adolescent, never really himself, or her husband, whose illness renders him most obviously not himself, or Elaine, who is not the self she show more so passionately keeps wanting to construct for herself, or the people around her, Thomas does a wonderful job painting the picture of an ordinary world, one in which none of us is ever wholly ourself. show less

I like family sagas. I love bildungsromans. This novel is a little of both, and it was to a certain extent satisfying: from the first criterion, because it spans 4 generations (looking forward in the future towards a 5th) and deals with the ups and downs, ins and outs, of daily life. For the second criterion, the life of the protagonist, her dreams, her schemes, her obstacles, and goals, and finally her growth, it also satisfied.

My problem, overall, with the novel is that it falls into a third category as well, one which I despise: what I've termed "vic lit" ("vic" for "victim"), a subcategory of chick lit. I'm not talking about books where the hero(ine) faces a challenge and lives through and learns from it, but rather one where the show more (usually female -- someone's wife or daughter) protagonist becomes a victim of a family member's foibles, crimes, and/or death (see: "The Pilot's Wife," "The Night Guest," et al). You know, the one where the husband dies and the widow has to rebuild her life, or the one where the husband cheats and she has to rebuild her life, or the one where the husband leaves her and she has to rebuild her life....

These character are usually also victims of the author's need to pile on the indignities and hurts, making us and the character wallow in the tragedies life throws at us. Ugh.

So too with Eileen Leary. This novel felt less like the author was interested in Eileen and more in presenting a naturalist message of the determinism of social realities and heredity, as well as making a statement about the inevitability but also (therefore also?) the fatality of The American Dream.

In short, the book is too damned depressing. No spoilers, but after a while, especially in the latter section where Eileen has to deal with the tremendous psychological, emotional and monetary burdens the author throws at her, you just. Want. It. To. Stop. And extra points (ugh again) for making the book close not on the brighter future of the final generation going forward, but on one full of fear and anxiety and looking backwards.

One more word: Matthew Thomas can REALLY write. Some phrases sing off the page; his metaphors are apt; there are sentences that are so beautiful it hurts. show less

This is a very accomplished book that reminded me of Death of A Salesman in its subject matter, tone, universalism, and perceptive look at the American middle class in the changing world of the latter half of the 20th century.

For six decades, we follow the life of Eileen Tumulty Leary and her Irish-American family. The saga begins in Queens, New York, but as the neighborhood becomes increasingly global in nature, it feels threatening and less prestigious to Eileen. She aspires to move with her husband Ed and son Connell to the more affluent neighborhood of Bronxville, "surrounded by people who looked like her family.”

Like Willy Loman, Eileen is fixated on external markers of success, with a warped understanding of internal value. In show more fact, a major theme of the book is about how we judge ourselves and judge others - ranging from guilt and self-castigation over unexpressed thoughts to an assessment of worth founded on what sort of car we drive or clothes we wear or even the way we smell.

Ed, eccentric and nerdy, has no interest in accumulating wealth; rather, he is dedicated to continuing his research on rats in a second-rate college. Moreover, he has the quixotic idea (as Eileen would identify it) that what counted in life was not “victories and defeats” but “to love and be loved.”

In spite of Ed’s recalcitrance, Eileen doesn’t give up,and keeps pushing herself, Ed, and Connell, even if she has to scale back her aspirations. When Ed is stricken by early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease, Eileen transfers her relentless dedication to the care and preservation of her husband, and to a fierce determination that Connell succeed in the way she never could.

It is up to Connell then, as the story draws to a close, to decide whether he will pursue the dreams of his mother or honor the lessons from his father. And always, hanging over him, is the frightening specter of genetic possibilities; early-onset Alzheimer’s disease runs in families, and is incurable.

Discussion: The theme of the title is played out in several ways in this story. Most obviously, with the onset of Alzheimer’s Disease, Ed Leary becomes someone else. Like Gregor Samsa in Kafka’s The Metamorphosis (a story Ed’s son Connell teaches to his students), Ed’s thought processes gradually get truncated and more bizarre, and he becomes increasingly burdensome to his family. But Ed’s family never stops loving him, even as he becomes less and less like himself. In fact, both Eileen and Connell insist on thinking of Ed as he used to be, rather than the shell of himself he has become.

But there are other, less obvious, manifestations of not being “ourselves,” from the adoption of social conventions, to the facades put on for social interactions, and even to the “Potemkin Village” of a house that Eileen finally buys - beautiful on the outside, but falling apart in its bones.

Evaluation: This is a moving - often heart-breaking, and well-crafted story with a scope and thematic depth that make it seem like the kind of book taught in schools, or at least, that should be taught in schools. It goes without saying that this would make an excellent choice for book clubs. Highly recommended. show less