Review of Dear Abigail
Posted: 14 Dec 2021, 03:15
[Following is an official OnlineBookClub.org review of "Dear Abigail" by Richard Rees.]
Dear Abigail, by Welsh writer Richard Rees, is a book that tells a sad story. Not only did the author lose his wife Rachael to ovarian cancer when she was in her mid-forties, but he then had to watch as the same terrible disease took his beloved daughter Carys when she was just twenty-nine. Carys’ daughter, Abigail, was only two at the time. Three years after Carys dies, the author sits down to write a letter to Abigail, to be given to her when she’s older. Abigail’s father has remarried and moved away, so the author wants to tell Abigail all about her mother and her mother’s family. The letter grows longer and becomes this book. At times, the author addresses Abigail directly. At other points, he writes for a wider audience. It is in these passages that the book transcends the personal and becomes a study of loss, love, and religious belief.
Potential readers are likely to worry that this book could get mawkish. They can rest easy. There is grief, of course, but there is also humor between the tears, arising both from how the author characterizes some of his family members, as well as from the events he describes. I also enjoyed how the author uses his personal sorrow to explore wider themes, such as his relationship with God. Both Rachael and Carys have strong religious beliefs, but the author finds his own faith shaken by events as he struggles to understand and accept what is happening. In the end, he confesses that he can see no rhyme or reason in the deaths of his wife and daughter. He finds himself asking: ‘Would it have spoilt some great eternal plan to have let them live, God?’ (Page 189)
Consciously or unconsciously, the author’s writing throws up contrasts between the brief lives of Rachael and Carys and the timelessness of the world that surrounds them. They live in a beautiful home that looks across the bay at a landscape that has changed little in thousands of years. Even their furniture is antique, the oldest pieces having belonged to Rachael’s family for centuries, ‘all ingrained with generations of loving polish and invested with their dreams.’ (Page 37) Add to that the frequent references to family members long gone, and the ancient Welsh language that is never far from the author’s pen, and the sense is of something immutable; individual lives are brief, but they are part of something much bigger that survives.
If I had to find a fault in the book, I would highlight the author’s fondness for using parentheses and dashes in his writing. To my mind, these are often unnecessary and break up the flow and rhythm of his excellent prose. That’s a minor gripe, however, and one that did not spoil my enjoyment of the book.
I am awarding this book four out of four stars. It has been professionally edited, and I found only a handful of minor errors. Given its somber themes, the book is probably more suitable for adult readers, but there is nothing in it that would make it off-limits for older teenagers. I recommend it to people who enjoy reading biographies and memoirs. Readers with caring responsibilities may also find it supportive. The book’s preliminary notes tell us that the author’s royalties from the book will go to an ovarian cancer charity.
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Dear Abigail
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon
Dear Abigail, by Welsh writer Richard Rees, is a book that tells a sad story. Not only did the author lose his wife Rachael to ovarian cancer when she was in her mid-forties, but he then had to watch as the same terrible disease took his beloved daughter Carys when she was just twenty-nine. Carys’ daughter, Abigail, was only two at the time. Three years after Carys dies, the author sits down to write a letter to Abigail, to be given to her when she’s older. Abigail’s father has remarried and moved away, so the author wants to tell Abigail all about her mother and her mother’s family. The letter grows longer and becomes this book. At times, the author addresses Abigail directly. At other points, he writes for a wider audience. It is in these passages that the book transcends the personal and becomes a study of loss, love, and religious belief.
Potential readers are likely to worry that this book could get mawkish. They can rest easy. There is grief, of course, but there is also humor between the tears, arising both from how the author characterizes some of his family members, as well as from the events he describes. I also enjoyed how the author uses his personal sorrow to explore wider themes, such as his relationship with God. Both Rachael and Carys have strong religious beliefs, but the author finds his own faith shaken by events as he struggles to understand and accept what is happening. In the end, he confesses that he can see no rhyme or reason in the deaths of his wife and daughter. He finds himself asking: ‘Would it have spoilt some great eternal plan to have let them live, God?’ (Page 189)
Consciously or unconsciously, the author’s writing throws up contrasts between the brief lives of Rachael and Carys and the timelessness of the world that surrounds them. They live in a beautiful home that looks across the bay at a landscape that has changed little in thousands of years. Even their furniture is antique, the oldest pieces having belonged to Rachael’s family for centuries, ‘all ingrained with generations of loving polish and invested with their dreams.’ (Page 37) Add to that the frequent references to family members long gone, and the ancient Welsh language that is never far from the author’s pen, and the sense is of something immutable; individual lives are brief, but they are part of something much bigger that survives.
If I had to find a fault in the book, I would highlight the author’s fondness for using parentheses and dashes in his writing. To my mind, these are often unnecessary and break up the flow and rhythm of his excellent prose. That’s a minor gripe, however, and one that did not spoil my enjoyment of the book.
I am awarding this book four out of four stars. It has been professionally edited, and I found only a handful of minor errors. Given its somber themes, the book is probably more suitable for adult readers, but there is nothing in it that would make it off-limits for older teenagers. I recommend it to people who enjoy reading biographies and memoirs. Readers with caring responsibilities may also find it supportive. The book’s preliminary notes tell us that the author’s royalties from the book will go to an ovarian cancer charity.
******
Dear Abigail
View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon