by Helen Walne (Penguin, R230)
Right up front – I know, admire and like Helen Walne. I love her columns, one in the Sunday Tribune and the other in the Cape Argus.
This is important because it would be a disservice if there were any accusations of bias in this review.
Helen tells the story of the loss of her beloved brother, Richard, to suicide.
His death made the news because he was a blossoming musician, with regular gigs and a CD.
What didn’t make the news was the utter devastation his death visited on Helen.
At its heart, this is a love story; she celebrates their relationship, opens a window into a mental and emotional meshing of two people. They share fun times, tough times, glorious highs and desperate lows.
As Richard’s mental state fractures, Helen’s life becomes a daily, then hourly, fight to save him, to hold on to him, to try to convince him to get help.
When she learns of his death, the world she has occupied is completely shattered.
This is her story of her journey through anguish and despair.
It’s a wrenching read because she has found the words to tell of a pain that is crippling. But there are also some smiles, enough that the reader is left with a sense of upliftment.
For anyone who has lost a loved one, it will be like finding someone who understands how it feels. For friends or acquaintances of the bereaved, it offers insights into behaviour or reactions that help or just cause more hurt.
It’s an important read with lessons to be learnt.
And, as suspected, no bias was required.