This Might Surprise You
A Breast Cancer Story
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5.0 • 1 Rating
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- $11.99
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
Shortlisted for The Graphic Medicine International Collective Awards 2026
'It's as if Hayley has been inside my head and captured every thought I had during treatment . . . an honest, brave, no-holds barred account'
Liz O'Riordan, surgeon and breast cancer survivor
'Hilarious, complex, honest and profound. Every page made me laugh. Most of them also made me cry.'
Ian Dunt, political journalist and broadcaster
This is a cancer story you'll actually want to read. With humour and honesty, it details Hayley Gullen's fight for individuality during the toughest time of her life.
But this is no ordinary account. Hayley takes you on her journey with an uplifting, quirky graphic memoir which outlines her breast cancer diagnosis at the age of 37. She illustrates her experiences navigating the NHS and the importance of maintaining her sense of self throughout the dehumanising process of cancer treatment.
The storytelling and cartoons are perfectly paired to show the emotional ups and downs of living with cancer. This book is a companion for anyone facing treatment, helping them to feel less alone, as well as for their loved ones.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
London-based cartoonist Gullen faces cancer with a determined grin in her roughly drawn but spirited graphic memoir debut. After a painful lump on her breast turns out to be malignant, she finds herself on the NHS conveyor belt through chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and surgery. "Why do I have a cancer welcome pack???" her bushy-haired avatar recoils, peering over an oversized surgical mask rectangle. With snarky humor, she juggles cancer treatment with raising her daughter, Rosie, who she takes to play dates and the park between hospital appointments; picking out "Fashion During Chemo"; and asking sex advice columnist Dan Savage if bondage is still safe ("If I can't have sushi, at least let me have some light BDSM"). She compares entering treatment to becoming a mother: "Once you're in, there's no going back.... But I chose parenthood. I didn't choose this." Strength and support comes through human connections with doctors, fellow patients, and her Quaker worship group. Gullen's sparse, naive art isn't always up to the task of dramatizing her experiences, but she livens up the pages by literalizing ideas (she envisions a vacuum biopsy sucking up her breast like a vacuum cleaner) and through simple but effective visuals like the word PAIN radiating from her body when something goes wrong. Readers navigating medical hardship will appreciate the chummy humor on display here.
