Normal is Overrated

Unlike Alzheimer’s,Still Alice, Asperger’s,Love Anthony and Huntington’s,Inside the O’Brien’s, I have never heard of “Left Neglect”- or hemispatial neglect; but Genova, who has a degree in neuroscience, once again brings a brain disorder into the forefront of another wonderful novel. I enjoyed this story’s narrative more than Love Anthony; I also appreciated that Sarah’s condition was not a genetic risk to her children like those discussed in Still Alice and Inside the O’briens.

Sarah Nickerson works too hard, she has a husband who works just as hard as she does and three wonderful children. Besides work deadlines, her biggest concern is her oldest son may be struggling in school because he has ADHD. Unfortunately, her multitasking (using her phone while driving in the rain) one morning lands her in the hospital with a severe brain injury. She wakes up no longer registering her left side. It takes her a while to come to terms with her diagnosis; which is understandable since it’s such a strange phenomena to comprehend. It was also fascinating to learn about, even through a fictional narrator, and Genova does a great job giving the reader scientific facts through an interesting narrative.

The next year of Sarah’s life is all about adjustment and recovery. Sarah is your typical “Type A” personality so she has a steep learning curve when it comes to being disabled in anyway. Sarah bonds with her son, Charlie, over their mutual difficulties- his ADHD, her neglect- as well as reconnects with her mother, who moves in after Sarah’s accident. Again, I liked that while Sarah’s neglect affected her whole family there was no risk of her children being diagnosed with the same disorder. There were plenty dramatic moments and while there were some sappy moments everything felt firmly rooted in reality.

“Did that boy call you a name?” I ask.
Charlie stops kicking at the ground and casts his eyes up at me.
“No,” he says. “He called you one. He called you a dumb cripple.”
…
“Thank you for sticking up for me,” I say, loving him. “But you shouldn’t fight.”
“But—” says Charlie.
“No buts. No fighting. Plus, that kid doesn’t even know what he’s talking about,” I say. “I’m the smartest cripple he’s ever seen.”