Review | The Widow’s Guide to Dead Bastards, by Jessica Waite

How do you grieve someone when you’ve just learned of all the many ways that they’ve done you wrong? Jessica Waite’s memoir, The Widow’s Guide to Dead Bastards, begins with an arresting image: the author confronted with nine photos of vulvas, arranged in a three-by-three grid “like the Brady Bunch family” (page 1). It’s a tiny subset of her recently-deceased husband Sean’s porn collection, and his secret stash of digital images is the least of his transgressions.

As Jessica processes his loss, and tries to help her young son, Dash, heal, she continues to unearth more of Sean’s secrets: he regularly pays for sex while on vacation, he’s had a long-time affair with a colleague, and his debts put Jessica’s financial security in jeopardy. This memoir may have started with a pointed, darkly humorous observation about Sean’s secrets, but most of the book takes us on Jessica’s raw and rather emotional journey in the aftermath of Sean’s death.

There’s anger: in a moment of petty revenge that Jessica deliberately conceals from friends until it’s too late for them to stop her, Jessica sets out to ruin Sean’s affair partner’s Christmas. Jessica’s barrage of texts and emails are straight-up harassment, and her threats involve not just the affair partner’s holiday cheer, but also her career. So it’s hard to cheer for Jessica in that moment, yet the act alone proves to be enough catharsis without having to escalate, so all’s well that ends well?

Beyond the anger is also a lot of fear. Jessica takes us through her anxieties about getting tested for STDs, and about waiting for all the legal stuff around Sean’s death benefits to come through. Worse is the lingering fear of what else remains unknown; if Sean had succeeded in keeping all this from her till now, what other secrets had he been keeping that could end up ruining the life she’s building?

Jessica deliberately leaves vague her own personal beliefs about the afterlife, or lack thereof, but the memoir also takes us on her deeply spiritual journey in exploring those questions for herself. This, too, rings true. There’s nothing like losing someone to make us wonder where they may be now, and if we’ll ever see them again, and while Jessica’s exploration does stay within particular paths of spirituality, her curiosity and yearning are also very real.

There’s a wonderful metaphor from someone Jessica goes to for counsel: when the day of Sean’s death began, Jessica was at the 12:00 point of an analogue clock, steady, secure, and with an entire clock’s worth of stability beneath her. Sean’s death plunges her all the way down to the 6:00 point in a moment, and suddenly, she’s scrambling to figure out where she can find her footing again.

Jessica’s response rings so true for anyone who’s gone through grief: after a ‘decent’ period of mourning (the length of which differs by person), her loved ones expect her to be back to the woman she was at the 12:00 point. Yet even if she does manage to climb back up there, she’s no longer the same woman. Grief has forever changed her, and it’s tough to quantify how, much less explain it to others. It’s a powerful and heartbreaking message, yet one that reminds me of my own experiences of grief, and makes me feel less alone.

+

Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Little Book of Awakening, by Mark Nepo

Little Book of AwakeningLittle Book of Awakening is a handy pocket-size book of weekly reflections excerpted from Nepo’s earlier book The Book of Awakening, published in 2000. I haven’t read the original book, so I can’t speak to the comparison, but the portable nature of this version appealed to me. As much as I often enjoy books that invite me to immerse myself in its pages, for something like this, I feel like bite-size tidbits work better for reading over my morning cup of tea.

The book is set up into weekly reflections. Each week features a quote or pithy statement, followed by a brief reflection by the author, and guiding prompts and questions for our own reflections. His reflections are sometimes about a story from his own life, other times about a story he’s read somewhere. Week 2 for example talks about salmon, and how their powerful way of swimming can teach us about facing situations without fear.

I haven’t read through the full book yet; I want to space it out over a year. But I did flip through it for interesting tidbits for review, and I really like what I found in Week 43: “Birds don’t need ornithologists to fly.” The reflection that follows is about how much we long to be seen and understood by others, but not necessarily recognize the greatness that already exists in ourselves even without that external affirmation. Definitely food for thought!

I would consider the book secular, in that it’s definitely not a devotional, nor does it focus on philosophies or stories from any particular religion, but there are religious elements to it. From my quick flip through, Nepo does make some references to God and the story of Nicodemus from the Bible. So this may not be a good fit for readers who prefer more fully secular reflections, nor for readers who would prefer for fully religious content.

Overall, this seems like a handy little book. I don’t particularly love Nepo’s writing style, meaning I don’t really see myself looking for more of his books. But I do like some of the reflections he provides, and some of the prompts he suggests. These prompts may also be good for journaling; they don’t particularly inspire me to journal about them, but that’s just a personal response to the prompts I’ve seen and the way I respond to Nepo’s style. Other readers may feel differently, and honestly, if this was set up with some space for writing, I may have tried a bit of journaling.

Still, I do see myself using this before starting work on Monday mornings. It’s a nice bit of quiet and thoughtfulness before launching into the work week, and perhaps a nice complement to the mindfulness practice I’d like to re-start.

+

Thank you to Firefly Distributed Lines for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Mindfulness Meditations: Discover a more vivid and connected life, by Anna Black

MindfulnessMeditationsWork has been rather hectic lately, and it’s made me want to get back into a mindfulness practice. For those who aren’t familiar with mindfulness, the basic premise is to be fully in the present moment. You’re not trying to adopt a more positive attitude nor reduce feelings of unpleasantness. Rather, you’re taking notice of the sensations you’re experiencing across all five senses at that very moment, simply taking notice of them without judgement.

My workplace offered a mindfulness meditation course a few years ago (pre-COVID, a.k.a. The Before Times), and while I usually grouch if I have to come into the office before 9 am, I did so almost happily during those few weeks. I found the practice transformative, and it soon became a daily ritual for me to start my work day by making my coffee in a mindful way. I found it a soothing ritual, and a good way to start off my days with a shot of calm.

Fast forward a few years, and the pandemic, and while I still grab mindful moments here and there, mindfulness is no longer a daily practice for me. And when I saw Anna Black’s Mindfulness Meditations on the Firefly Books spring catalogue, it was a timely, perhaps even fateful, reminder of what I now realize I miss very much.

TableofContents

Mindfulness Meditations is a good introduction to the practice. It includes a bit of an introduction to mindfulness itself — what it is, how it came about, and what are some common misconceptions about it. As someone who tends to skim when I read, I appreciate how this book is formatted for easy reading: the practices themselves are in italic font and between brackets, and important info in the introductory paragraphs are highlighted with bigger and bolder font.

My favourite part is the artwork. The ink and watercolour illustrations of nature (for example leaves falling down the side of a page) or elements from the practices (for example a chair, or a sudsy sink of dishes to be washed) add a lovely touch of whimsy to the practices, and make it all just that much more accessible and appealing.

I also appreciate how Black organized her content. First, she begins by giving us exercises to help us become better attuned to our body, then she moves on to exercises to help us co-exist more mindfully with people around us. I like how she offers practices where we can focus on a particular part of our body, for example our hands, and also practices where we mindfully pay attention to multiple body parts. Depending on where my stress feels on a given day, I can imagine finding one or the other of those exercises more helpful.

Some of the exercises made me laugh. For example, she suggests that when we shower, we consider who is in the shower with us. She means who is occupying our thoughts and taking our attention away from the showering experience, but the phrasing came off a bit like a horror movie jump scare for me.

She also suggests that when our phone rings, we stop to consider the emotions coursing through us as we listen to it ring. She suggests taking stock of those emotions and bodily responses before answering the call. While I understand where she’s coming from and a petty part of me likes the idea of making people wait before I answer their call, doing this will just increase my stress. And if I do this in public, it will also increase other people’s stress at having to hear my phone keep ringing. So that’s not feasible at all.

I do like the “Seeing-Drawing” exercise, which is based on the Blind Contour Drawing developed by Kimon Nicolaides. I was recently at a workshop where the instructor did this exercise, and it’s indeed very relaxing. I also like the exercise of “Offering Kindness to Yourself,” where you basically take a moment to wish yourself well. It’s a soothing, and much-needed practice.

How do I see myself using this book? It’s not portable — it’s full-size and won’t fit in my purse — so it won’t work well as an easily accessible on-the-go guide. At the same time, some of the practices work best while on the go, for example, there are practices to do while waiting for the bus, or dealing with a red light on your commute. I thought of leaving my copy in the office, since that’s where I will probably find myself most often reaching for a mindfulness practice, but then there are exercises that can only be done at home, so that won’t work either.

What I may do instead is pick a practice I want to focus on, perhaps once a week, and then focus on doing that practice throughout the week. I may start with “Offering Kindness to Yourself” for this week, see how that goes. And over time, I imagine, some of these practices will become second nature.

+

Thanks to Firefly Distributed Lines for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.