I share not only initials but most of a name (she has an extra letter) with a famous former US First Lady. But I wasn't drawn to either of her books. I certainly didn't have the challenge that some of you have reported, a dearth of any writers at all with initials the same as yours. Nora Roberts, author of 200 + best selling romances, has my initials and her books are available everywhere. But I'm not a fan of romances (I have no idea what I'm going to do for "a classic romance"), so I decided to work a little harder.
Nancy Rappapport had the right initials, so I read her account of her exploration of the circumstances of her mother's suicide when Nancy was 4 years old. Nancy is a psychiatrist, and her analytical expertise must have helped give her the fortitude she needed to complete this journey. I hope the effort was worthwhile for her, but I'm not sure that her narrative of it succeeds. Her observations are sharp; the reasons for the suicide are elusive, and we don't understand them any better at the end than we do at the beginning.
Dr. Rappaport includes some accounts of her patient's experiences. Perhaps she sees parallels between their pain and her mother's, but the similarities, if any, aren't apparent in the book. They feel a bit off-topic and detract from the flow of the recital. She also protects the privacy of some of the family members who necessarily figure in her research, a necessary and sensitive endeavor which nonetheless renders the story more enigmatic than is helpful.
This is certainly far from a terrible book; it simply failed to give me much to reflect on.
Nancy Rappapport had the right initials, so I read her account of her exploration of the circumstances of her mother's suicide when Nancy was 4 years old. Nancy is a psychiatrist, and her analytical expertise must have helped give her the fortitude she needed to complete this journey. I hope the effort was worthwhile for her, but I'm not sure that her narrative of it succeeds. Her observations are sharp; the reasons for the suicide are elusive, and we don't understand them any better at the end than we do at the beginning.
Dr. Rappaport includes some accounts of her patient's experiences. Perhaps she sees parallels between their pain and her mother's, but the similarities, if any, aren't apparent in the book. They feel a bit off-topic and detract from the flow of the recital. She also protects the privacy of some of the family members who necessarily figure in her research, a necessary and sensitive endeavor which nonetheless renders the story more enigmatic than is helpful.
This is certainly far from a terrible book; it simply failed to give me much to reflect on.