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Her Last Death: A Memoir
Susanna Sonnenberg

Scribner, 2008 - 288 pages

average customer review:based on 55 reviews
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A most incredible book

Her Last Death, Susanna Sonnenberg, is not grammatically correct and is not a classic. BUT, it is a most revealing story of both a mother and a daughter, their personalities, their actions. I was raised in the culture of the 1950's and 1960's. Is Sonnenbereg's book a true picture of life now? I could hardly believe a lot of what I read, and I read a lot. Yes, the book is rather sensational, and yes, I did ask myself if Sonnenberg could have made better choices in her life. And, certainly, the reader asks: Would I want my sons to read this information about me--NO, NO, NO. I can't wait until my book group reads this so that I can gain more insight into the author's culture, personality and motivations for writing such a book. I think that students of psychiatry will find this book on their READ list. DO READ IT, DO!!!!! nancy Salen


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Powerful

Susanna Sonnenberg's memoir is powerful and moving. It reports fairly on the drama and grandiosity of youth as well as on the difficulty of knowing oneself with a mother who refuses you room to exist. It also touches on the frightening flip side of a difficulty in valuing oneself--a need for a constant valuable image of oneself that one can consume. The need is primal and intoxicating and holds out the promise of wholeness. The absolute failure of that promise is what is both sad and empowering about this memoir.

You can feel Sonnenberg's fear of becoming her rapacious mother coexisting with a need to be seen which has only been granted at uncertain intervals throughout her life. What is most difficult about this book is that the spaces and rifts between loved ones continue to exist. It is painful to watch Sonnenberg try to tell her story to her sister and hear her sister's version (in which she can hear the hand of her mother) overwriting her own. It seems she remains unseen at every turn and we can feel how important it is to her to finally be with a man who will tell her what he sees and confirm what she sees.

Sonnenerg's memoir is unsettling both for the way it minutely explores the carnage that ensues from manipulation, lies and an intrusive intimacy and for the answers it can't provide. In the end we don't know why two people can grow up in the same household and experience it so differently. The limits of subjectivity are insistent and painful, as much as the discord is intentionally sown. Her mother is so finally center stage (and you feel Sonnenberg's desire for and fear of her own toxic center stage throughout) that there is no way to circumvent her.

Another reviewer has called the author selfish and I find that to be almost cruel after the number of times that selfishness has been confused with selfhood in Sonnenberg's upbringing. If anything the book is an exploration of the fragility of the lines drawn between our selves, of the weight of words and the unspoken pressure of need.

The book is not for everyone, but it beautifully delineates some truths about the passage from adolescence to adulthood and the pervasive yet impersonal power of female sexuality. It also gives us pause to think more deeply about the parental relationship, in which, even if we set out with kind intentions, we take on mythical size.



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hum......."

I'll admit that I blew through this book, and found many passages very well written, but it hardly merited a glowing NYT review and subsequent high praise. That, I'm certain, had more to do with the author's lineage than the strength of her writing. Furthermore, the emphasis on sex was often disturbing. What was the point of including such salacious details? My guess: the author thought it was literature, art....not sure I agree. Overall, it was at times both a good read and a taxing one. .


reviews: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, page 10, 11



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