Joy Enough: A Memoir

by Sarah McColl

Overview

A Belletrist Book of the Month, this “exquisite memoir” (Los Angeles Times) is the perfect balm for any reader who has experienced loss.

Lipsticks applied, novels read, imperfect cakes baked—such memories are recalled with “crystalline perfection” (J.C. Hallmann, Brooklyn Rail) in Sarah McColl’s breathtaking testimonial to the joy and pain of loving well. When her mother, Allison, was diagnosed with cancer, McColl dropped everything—including her on-the-rocks marriage—to return to the family farmhouse and fix elaborate meals in the hope of nourishing her back to health. In “thoughtful and finely crafted prose” (Martha Anne Toll, NPR.org) McColl reveals Allison to be an extraordinary woman of infinite love for her unruly brood of children. Mining her dual losses “with humor and charm” (Rachel Kong, New York Times Book Review) to confront her identity as a woman, McColl walks lightly in the footsteps of the woman who came before her. “A gorgeous, painful, exhilarating debut” (Kirstin Valdez-Quade), Joy Enough is an essential guide to clinging fast to the joy left behind, for readers of Ann Hood and Jenny Offill.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781631496639
Publisher:	Liveright Publishing Corporation
Publication date:	01/14/2020
Edition description:	Reprint
Pages:	176
Sales rank:	651,134
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.30(h) x 0.50(d)

About the Author

Sarah McColl was founding editor-in-chief of Yahoo Food and holds an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her essays have appeared in the Paris Review, StoryQuarterly, McSweeney’s, and elsewhere, and she has been a MacDowell Fellow and Pushcart Prize nominee. She lives in Los Angeles.

Editorial Reviews

2018-10-22

A debut memoir focused on divorce and death.

Beginning with her own youth, essayist McColl, the founding editor-in-chief of Yahoo Food, notes that her mother was her "spiritual home," and she venerates her mother on almost every page of the book. Looking back, the author recalls her mother as a colorful mixture of wisdom and sensuality whose role as a mother was perhaps the ultimate aspect of her personality. Her parents' divorce shattered McColl's world for a time, leaving her even more invested in her mother as her basis for stability. The author eventually married, beginning a long road to divorce. McColl's descriptions of her ex-husband do not immediately elicit sympathy; the couple simply drifted apart, the husband toward his career, the wife toward her dying mother. "I loved my husband," she writes, "and then I didn't. Is that a story?" Throughout the book, the author sets her narration against the backdrop of her mother's illness, an era that clearly affected nearly everything else in her life. Her mother's eventual death left McColl with "a roiling grief" so great and traumatic that she even decided against her therapist's suggestion of a grief counseling group: "Someone else might know loss, but no one could understand mine." Though poignant in spots, the book is nearly devoid of hope or significant life lessons; it is ultimately a study in sadness and seemingly relentless unhappiness brought on by chronic grief and relational ennui. As a writer, McColl is introspective and attempts to be inventive, but much of the prose demonstrates an author trying too hard: "The sound of fireworks in the distance. Here, fireflies. I wanted to tie myself up in his arms and he wanted to be the rope."

A depressing and often cloying memoir that may hold some appeal for readers in similar circumstances with a penchant for dwelling on heartache.

Kirkus Reviews