Tag: Lockdown

brother do you love me by Manni Coe and Reuben Coe

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brother do you love me by Manni Coe and Reuben Coe

Published by Little Toller

Available from Little Toller Website and All Good Bookshops

What They Say

Reuben, aged 38, was living in a home for adults with learning disabilities. He hadn’t established an independent life in the care system and was still struggling to accept that he had Down’s syndrome. Depressed and in a fog of anti-depressants, he hadn’t spoken for over a year. The only way he expressed himself was by writing poems or drawing felt-tip scenes from his favourite West End musicals and Hollywood films. Increasingly isolated, cut off from everyone and everything he loved, Reuben sent a text message: ‘brother. do. you. love. me.’ When Manni received this desperate message from his youngest brother, he knew everything had to change. He immediately left his life in Spain and returned to England, moving Reuben out of the care home and into an old farm cottage in the countryside. In the stillness of winter, they began an extraordinary journey of repair, rediscovering the depths of their brotherhood, one gradual step at a time. Combining Manni’s tender words with Reuben’s powerful illustrations, their story of hope and resilience questions how we care for those we love, and demands that, through troubled times, we learn how to take better care of each other.

What I Say

I have really struggled with writing a review of brother do you love me. The reason being is that I want to share endless paragraphs and pages and chapters with you, to show you how brilliant Manni’s writing is, and how perfectly Reuben’s words and illustrations show us what their relationship means to them. This is a memoir that is quite unlike any I have read, and it moved me deeply.

Manni was living in Spain as a tour guide, and his brother Reuben who has Down’s Syndrome was living in a residential home. Reuben sent Manni a text message that read ‘brother.do.you.love.me’. As soon as he read that message, Manni knew that his brother needed him, and that Reuben had to be out of that care home as soon as possible. When Reuben moved in with Manni in a cottage in the UK, Manni was shocked to see how far his brother had regressed physically and emotionally, and was desperate to get his brother back.

This is a memoir not only of the incredible bond that Manni and Reuben have, and how their love for each other transcends the frustrating limitations that the professionals tried to constrain their world with, but is also a book about the realities of caring for a family member when you know exactly what they need even if those in positions of power disagree.

Their situation is further complicated by the fact that Manni’s partner Jack is in Spain, and the rest of their family are spread throughout the world, so even though everyone is involved and supporting them, Manni is the one dealing with all the day to day decisions and being the support for Reuben on his own. What echoes throughout the book is the fact that on one hand, for Manni, having your brother who is also your best friend, living with you is the best thing, but at the same time caring for Reuben and trying to help him regain his confidence as well as dealing with all the people and teams who are involved is also incredibly exhausting and isolating. I know from my own experience that you spend so much of your time convincing the people making the decisions that honestly, yes, you really do know your family member so much better than the snapshot they have gleaned from all the forms and phone calls you have been forced to repeat time and time again.

One of the elements of the book which I think will resonate with many people, is the way in which Manni describes the realities of the social care system in the U.K. It is one stretched to its limits, with those people who use it often become little more than a set of initials moving from team to team as decisions are made sometimes with the family involved, and sometimes not. One of the worst things (and I am speaking from personal experience) is how often you find someone who absolutely understands the person you are caring for, and what they need to thrive, only to have them move on or leave, and you are left either without no one, or a new person that you have to explain everything to – never quite sure if you have said the right thing, or told them enough, or too much.

As Manni tells their story, he weaves his family’s narrative in effortlessly, as we learn everything about their family, from their childhood in Leeds, to the rift that happens when Manni tells his religious family that he is gay, to their reconciliation – and always at the heart of the story is the love and determination that the family and their friends have to ensure that Reuben is happy and living the life that he wants. In doing this, Manni also subtly shows us the difference between the Reuben of those times, and all the things they did together, and the Reuben who is now a very different man. Manni perfectly articulates not only the all consuming love you feel for the person you care for, but also the ingrained hope and desire you have for them to be accepted by the world and for them to live the life they want, rather than the life that others feel they deserve.

The book is also filled with the art that Reuben has produced, which adds an intensely personal and emotional element to the book, and Reuben also talks about having Down’s Syndrome and what that means to him. We learn how he feels about the world around him, as well his own hopes and dreams for his future. I think it’s one of the most important parts of this book, that Reuben’s voice and identity are so clear and we learn so much about him and his personality, and his relationships with his family and friends.

I wanted to finish my review by saying thank you to Manni and Reuben, who helped me think about my own situation and my own relationship with my son, who has a range of special needs, and I am his full time carer.

I know am guilty of doing too much for him, for sometimes treating him like a child at times even though he is twenty two, and for thinking I know how he feels, and not really trying to make him do any more than I think he can cope with. Hearing how Manni and Reuben talk together, and Reuben talking about himself and his identity have really helped me reassess how I relate to my son, and has opened up a whole new world for us, and for that, I can’t thank them enough.

I don’t often say this, but please try and read this book however you can. #BrotherDoYouLoveMe is not only an incredible testament to the love that Manni and Reuben have for each other, but is also a book that absolutely captures the realities of caring for a family member, and how important it is to ensure that what they want and deserve is always at the front and centre of every decision that is made.

I absolutely loved it.

What To Do in 2022?

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Here we are in 2022, leaving behind another year of highs and lows, of things that we could never have foreseen happening, nor would have chosen to happen, and yet 2022 hurtled out of nowhere before I really had chance to take in everything that 2021 threw my way.

Last year, I felt that I did quite well in reading lots of books – many of which I loved, and putting together my end of year #MostSelfishReads2021 proved to be even harder as my reading had been in fits and starts according to who I had at home and when!

Still, as always happens at this time of year, I sit and think about book blogging – largely because I am feeling increasingly like I am not very good at it, and as always that I spend too much time reading and not enough time reviewing. I also hit December and felt overwhelmed with it all – not just reviewing, but setting up Two Fond of Books with Amanda (which I am so extraordinarily proud of) and a series of personal events I could not have foreseen last year knocked me for six, including Covid and becoming a full time carer to my adult son when I least expected it .

I think all the things that were happening to me at home meant that for a time I had to put my reading as my last priority rather than my first, and had to admit that I just couldn’t keep up with everyone else who seemed to be posting and blogging so frequently. Then I did that thing I guess lots of bloggers do, and started to question what the point of it all was – I don’t mean that to sound melodramatic, but when life means you can’t read as much as you think you should, you start to wonder what the point of it is. Then I just lost every creative impulse in my body and simply stared at the screen, attempting to write blogs so I could at least have something to show for my reading.

I couldn’t find the words. I can’t tell you how many draft and deleted posts I have on here, but all I know is that for a woman that could previously produce blogs at the drop of the hat, now I was completely lacking in confidence – they all sounded the same, and I felt I was just regurgitating all my previous posts. So I stopped writing reviews, and instead of picking the next book off my pile to make sure I could read and review it for publication day, I picked up a book that I wanted to read, and I can’t tell you how much better I felt as I finally lost myself in a book again without the slightest inclination to review it.

Why am I telling you all this? I guess it’s because I need somewhere to write down what I am feeling – and to let other people know that if you feel that too, it’s ok to admit it. I forget a lot of the time that I am doing all this for free, and sometimes my worry of letting publicists and publishers down (who by the way are the kindest and most supportive people ever) means that I forget this is and always should be a hobby.

Anyway, I think what I am trying to tell myself and anyone else feeling baffled by the world and not quite sure where their blogging is going, is to maybe know that you are not the only one who feels like it, and theres no shame in admitting you can’t find the words at the moment. The books will always be there, and I love the feeling of finding that book that sparks something in me that means I need to write a review all about it to tell the world. I know it will come back, and in the meantime am just enjoying reading for reading’s sake again – and it feels wonderful!

Here’s to 2022, and whatever and whenever you feel like reading, and know that blogging will always be there for you whenever you are ready to return to it.

Lots of love,

Clare

xxx

The Fell by Sarah Moss

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The Fell by Sarah Moss

Published by Picador on November 11th

Available from West End Lane Books and

all Good Bookshops

What They Say

At dusk on a November evening in 2020 a woman slips out of her garden gate and turns up the hill. Kate is in the middle of a two-week quarantine period, but she just can’t take it any more – the closeness of the air in her small house, the confinement. And anyway, the moor will be deserted at this time. Nobody need ever know.

But Kate’s neighbour Alice sees her leaving and Matt, Kate’s son, soon realizes she’s missing. And Kate, who planned only a quick solitary walk – a breath of open air – falls and badly injures herself. What began as a furtive walk has turned into a mountain rescue operation . . .

Unbearably suspenseful, witty and wise, The Fell asks probing questions about the place the world has become since March 2020, and the place it was before. This novel is a story about compassion and kindness and what we must do to survive, and it will move you to tears.

What I Say

To write about a family going through a period of self isolation many of us have lived through is an interesting premise. In some ways, we may feel exasperated that we are reading about something that was so all consuming that we don’t need to see it in our literature, but at the same time for me, reading about other families experiences and ways of dealing with it made me feel more connected to others.

In The Fell, Sarah Moss has perfectly articulated what it means to live through such a complicated and unsettling time, whilst also ensuring there is a very human and relatable story at the heart of the novel.

Kate, like so many people is being forced to self isolate after being in contact with someone who has Covid. Having no symptoms herself, she and her son Matt are stuck in their cottage in the Peak District. Matt seemingly loves the prospect of lie ins, massive gaming sessions and a break from everyday life. Kate on the other hand is not coping at all. Right from the start you can see how she feels confined by the rules which means she can only venture as far as the garden.

Tired of cleaning the house, unable to settle on ways to keep herself occupied, she is left alone with her thoughts and she is not coping. For a woman who is used to taking a backpack and walking wherever she likes, whenever she likes, we understand how frustrated and hemmed in she must feel by the law which is imposed on her and how little control she has over her situation.

When she decides to leave the cottage and go for a walk, rationalising that as it is at dusk she won’t see anyone, and her familiarity with her environment means she can be out and back without anyone knowing, I completely understood why she decided to do it.

Their next door neighbour Alice, is widowed and her immediate family live far away. She is shielding due to her immune system being compromised by chemotherapy. Alice has been relying on Kate and Matt to help her get the supplies she needs as well as them giving her some much needed human interaction. Alice’s narrative is an interesting and necessary one, because on the one hand she realises how much she has in terms of financial security and a family at the end of a zoom call, but she misses the basic human interactions. As a daughter whose widowed Dad was in Wales during the lockdown, it was at times hard to read Alice’s words, because I kept thinking of my Dad, and although he is not an emotional man, he too had so little face to face interaction or hugs during that time, I just wanted to get in my car and drive to see him.

This is also why Kate’s actions are understandable. Many people would try and rationalise it by focusing on reasons why in our situation it doesn’t count, and why it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, and that everyone else is doing it, but always at the back of our mind are the same concerns Kate has. She is meant to be self isolating, and being found out means she could be faced with a fine she can’t afford – especially now the café she works in is closed, and she can’t get gigs singing at the pub like she used to.

Then Kate falls and badly injures herself. With no phone she realises that by alerting people, she runs the risk of legal action and losing what little stability she and Matt have. She is completely conflicted, but the thought of Matt is what makes her determined to try and get home in spite of her extensive injuries. It is only when Matt becomes concerned and attempts to talk to Alice in a really touching scene where he is making sure he is following the rules and is always at an appropriate distance, Alice realises what has happened and raises the alarm.

The interwoven narratives of the four main characters are an effective device for Sarah Moss to give us different perspectives on Kate’s actions. Matt doesn’t know where his Mum is, and can’t reach her because she has left her phone behind, Alice sees her leave but doesn’t know what to do and doesn’t want to get her into trouble, and for Rob, part of the Rescue Team who is mobilised to help find her, he has to explain to his self obsessed daughter why he has to find the missing woman and cut short their time together.

The novella is written as almost a stream of consciousness which I have to admit took me a few pages to get into, but once you start, you understand exactly why this is the perfect form. You are party to each character’s thoughts, and see like us the way their minds dart around from topic to topic. We learn about Alice’s happy marriage and Kate’s experience of a violent relationship and a dull marriage, of Matt’s worries about his Mum and Rob’s determination to both try and do his job and keep his daughter happy.

The Fell perfectly captures what it felt like to live through this lockdown. We rationally understood how it was critically important to ensure we we stayed at home, even when it made no sense, but it seems that the enforced isolation also made what we weren’t allowed to do seem even more desirable and necessary. The sense of claustrophobia, families forced to spend all day every day together without respite or a chance to see others only served to exacerbate our need to do the most basic of things we had never considered before. To be able to walk and experience nature, to go to the shops, to see and connect with people outside our bubbles became things we understood we had so often taken for granted. This is why I believe The Fell will resonate so deeply with so many people.

Sarah Moss’ writing works so well because it is not the grand gestures or explosive events she talks about, it is the small things and everyday routines we all understand and connect with. There is also this sense of how nature and the world beyond our doorstep is so incredibly important, and how small and insignificant we can feel when we are lost in it. It is another thing we can’t control, and Sarah’s beautiful and measured prose only adds to the sense of awareness as to how fragile our world is.

The Fell may not be very long, but when I had finished it, I kept thinking about it, especially what Kate had gone through, because I had felt it too. You can feel Kate’s frustration at her situation seeping through the pages, and her rationale for stepping out of her front door is understandable because hand on heart, we all felt it, lived through it and have had to deal with a new and unpredictable world that we have been forced to navigate.

I absolutely loved it.

Thank you so much as always to Camilla Elworthy for my gifted proof copy.

You can buy it from West End Lane Books here.