A Funny Kind of Paradise
-
- 9,99 €
Description de l’éditeur
A poignant, uplifting, brilliantly insightful story of one woman's end-of-life reckoning with her past, her lost daughter and herself, for readers of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, Still Alice and Elizabeth Is Missing.
When her husband left her with a baby, a toddler and a fledgling business, Francesca managed--she wasn't always gentle or patient, but the business thrived and Chris and Angelina had food to eat. At nearly 70, she feels she's earned a peaceful retirement. But when a massive stroke leaves her voiceless, partially paralyzed and wholly reliant on the staff of an extended care facility, it seems her freedom is lost.
However, Francesca is still clear-headed and sharp, and she knows one thing: she wants to live. She savours her view of a majestic chestnut tree through the hospital window, and speaks in her mind to her beloved friend Anna, dead for two years. The daily tasks and dramas of the rotating crew of care aides tether her to the world: Young Lily, eager to fall in love and regularly falling apart when things don't work out; Michiko, with her spiky hair and tattoos and wicked sense of humour; Molly, endlessly kind and skilled in her work; Blaire, cold and enigmatic.
Amidst the indignities of bed baths and a feeding tube, Francesca is surprised to experience flashes of hilarity and joy, even the blossoming of a new friendship with a fellow patient. But as she reflects to Anna on her dutiful son and her troubled and absent daughter, regrets and painful realizations rise to the surface. For the first time, there is nowhere for Francesca to hide from her own choices, and she must reckon with her past before it's too late. A Funny Kind of Paradise is a warm and insightful novel about one woman's opportunity for reinvention--for unconditional love, acceptance and closure--in the unlikeliest of places.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Owens's affecting debut centers on a stubborn, dying patient at "a facility, an institution, a so-called extended care hospital." Frannie is a stroke survivor unable to move, speak, or eat on her own but who nevertheless lives more-or-less comfortably with four other elderly patients and copious care. The narrative takes the form of an imagined letter Frannie composes to her best friend, Anna, who died from cancer a few years earlier. A sharp observer, Frannie reports on things said by other patients, their family members, and the care aides. Frannie also divulges to Anna about her former life as a hardworking but closed-off accountant and single mother to two children—loving, stable Chris and wild-child Angelina. After seeing Chris, who visits but maintains his emotional distance, Frannie begins to reconsider her cold behavior toward Angelina, who disappeared as a teenager. In sifting through her difficult memories, Frannie regretfully realizes she was not the mother she should have been. Owens's believable, touching portrait of Frannie and the loving care of her aides is loaded with moments of beauty amid the swirl of regret and nostalgia: "I got to show you how much I loved you before I lost you, and that was a gift." These powerful final reflections of an irascible, regretful patient illustrate the unremarkable yet profound experience of nearing death.
