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Summary
Summary
A New York Times bestseller ▪ A Library Journal Best Books of 2015 Pick ▪ A St. Louis Post-Dispatch Best Books of 2015 Pick ▪A GoodReads Top Ten Fiction Book of 2015 ▪ A People Magazine Great Read
From New York Times bestselling author and neuroscientist Lisa Genova comes a "heartbreaking...very human novel" (Matthew Thomas, author of We Are Not Ourselves ) that does for Huntington's disease what her debut novel Still Alice did for Alzheimer's.
Joe O'Brien is a forty-three-year-old police officer from the Irish Catholic neighborhood of Charlestown, Massachusetts. A devoted husband, proud father of four children in their twenties, and respected officer, Joe begins experiencing bouts of disorganized thinking, uncharacteristic temper outbursts, and strange, involuntary movements. He initially attributes these episodes to the stress of his job, but as these symptoms worsen, he agrees to see a neurologist and is handed a diagnosis that will change his and his family's lives forever: Huntington's disease.
Huntington's is a lethal neurodegenerative disease with no treatment and no cure, and each of Joe's four children has a 50 percent chance of inheriting their father's disease. While watching her potential future in her father's escalating symptoms, twenty-one-year-old daughter Katie struggles with the questions this test imposes on her young adult life. As Joe's symptoms worsen and he's eventually stripped of his badge and more, Joe struggles to maintain hope and a sense of purpose, while Katie and her siblings must find the courage to either live a life "at risk" or learn their fate.
Praised for writing that "explores the resilience of the human spirit" ( San Francisco Chronicle ), Lisa Genova has once again delivered a novel as powerful and unforgettable as the human insights at its core.
Author Notes
Lisa Genova (born November 11, 1970) has a degree in Biopsychology, from Bates College, and a Ph.D. in Neuroscience from Harvard University.
Genova is the author of the New York Times Bestselling novel STILL ALICE, which is now a major feature film with Julianne Moore. She is also the author of the novel LEFT NEGLECTED and LOVE ANTHONY. She also made the New York Times Best Seller List with her title's: Inside the O'Briens and Every Note Played. She will be at the Adelaide Writers' Week for the 2016 festival.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Neuroscientist and novelist Genova (Still Alice) creates another poignant portrayal of those affected by neurological disorders. Joe O'Brien, a third-generation Irish American and longtime Boston cop, begins experiencing violent rages, sudden falls, and difficulties keeping still. Colleagues think he's drinking, but Joe denies any problem until his wife, Rosie, insists he see a doctor. Tests reveal Huntington's Disease, an incurable genetic disorder causing slow degeneration and death. Even worse, Joe and Rosie's four children each have a 50-50 chance of having Huntington's themselves. Will ballet dancer Megan, rebellious Patrick, or married firefighter JJ have, and pass along, the gene? How can the youngest sibling, 21-year-old Katie, balance her family's needs-and her own chance of illness-with her fledgling attempts to craft an adult life beyond the shelter of the O'Briens' close circle? Does the news require Joe to reinterpret his own mother's troubled life and death? Narrated through Joe and Katie's contrasting viewpoints, the novel effectively dramatizes the challenge of an illness that affects several generations simultaneously and demands searing emotional, logistical, and financial choices. Genova's book will move readers as well as demystify a condition sometimes called "the cruelest disease known to man." (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Genova does here for Huntington's disease what her novel Still Alice (2009), made into an acclaimed film, did for Alzheimer's. Joe O'Brien is a 44-year-old Boston cop who still lives in the Charlestown neighborhood where he grew up. He begins experiencing involuntary, jerky movements, and his fellow cops suspect he might be a drunk, but a doctor's visit and extensive testing reveal that he suffers from Huntington's disease, which is hereditary and incurable. On top of his own worries about his health and his wife's financial future, he also experiences guilt at the thought that he might have passed the gene on to his four children, who must now decide whether to get tested themselves and live with the knowledge. In clear prose, Genova lays out the devastating effects of the disease, counterbalancing the stark facts with a warm, involving story line. Joe's wife and kids are portrayed as a flawed but loving and supportive family and are almost instantly relatable. Balancing the knowledge of a neuroscientist with the instincts of a storyteller, Genova continues to educate and enlighten.--Wilkinson, Joanne Copyright 2015 Booklist
Kirkus Review
Best-selling neuroscientist-turned-novelist Genova, author of several popular stories based on the experience of suffering debilitating diseasesnotably Still Alice (2009), about a woman with early-onset Alzheimer'snow tackles the impact of Huntington's disease on one blue-collar Boston family.Patrol officer Joe O'Brien is third-generation Irish in Charlestown. A tough cop with a soft interior, a loving wife and four adult children, Joe "doesn't do doctors" but is going to have to learn, because there's no dodging the diagnosis heading his wayone that Genova outlines on her opening page: Huntington's is "an inherited neurodegenerative disease characterized by a progressive loss of voluntary motor controlproceeding inexorably to death in ten to twenty years." Not only is there no cure, but there's a 50 percent chance that Joe's children will carry the gene, too. Genova's straightforward storytelling lays out this unhappy scenario with maximum empathy as she switches between the perspectives of Joe and daughter Katie, a 21-year-old yoga instructor. While the parents worry and the siblings bicker and confrontor don'ttheir fears and options, Genova conveys the facts of HD through encounters with doctors and genetic counselors, continuing the education as Joe's symptoms intensify and the disease, or its possibility, undermines and redefines jobs, finances and relationships. Minor events do occur, but the stiflingly circular topic of the disease drives everythingJoe's mood swings and suicidal thoughts, his wife's wavering faith and Katie's on-and-off wish to know her own fate. Genova's intention once again is acceptance, and the wrung-out reader bids farewell to the family at a relatively calm and united moment. This journey to a place of mindfulness, while inevitably affecting, often reads like fictionalized campaign literature for a worthy cause. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
Doing for Huntington's disease what she did for Alzheimer's in her impressive debut novel, Still Alice, Genova shows listeners the effects of the disease on an entirely believable family. Boston cop Joe O'Brien is only 43 when odd things begin to affect his thinking, temperament, and physical abilities. Huntington's is a relatively rare genetic neurodegenerative disease with no treatment and no cure, and his four children each have a 50/50 chance of inheriting. Genova personalizes the disease in ways that balance the dilemmas faced by characters having to decide whether to undergo genetic testing and the decline in Joe as he faces his escalating symptoms. The story switches points of view between Joe and his 21-year-old daughter Katie, both of whom are well captured by reader Skipp Sudduth. This powerful and intimate story about risks, despair, and love will make the O'Briens feel like listeners' family and neighbors. -VERDICT Highly recommended. ["This is a gut-wrenching, memorable read, most similar to Still Alice in its detailed portrayal of the disintegration and rebuilding of a family in the face of a horrible illness": LJ 3/15/15 starred review of the Gallery hc.]-Joyce -Kessel, Villa Maria Coll., Buffalo © Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Inside the O'Briens CHAPTER 1 Damn woman is always moving his things. He can't kick off his boots in the living room or set his sunglasses down on the coffee table without her relocating them to "where they belong." Who made her God in this house? If he wants to leave a stinking pile of his own shit right in the middle of the kitchen table, then that's where it should stay until he moves it. Where the fuck is my gun? "Rosie!" Joe hollers from the bedroom. He looks at the time: 7:05 a.m. He's going to be late for roll call if he doesn't get the hell out of here pronto, but he can't go anywhere without his gun. Think. It's so hard to think lately when he's in a hurry. Plus it's a thousand degrees hotter than hell in here. It's been sweltering for June, in the high eighties all week, and barely cools down at night. Terrible sleeping weather. The air in the house is a thick swamp, today's heat and humidity already elbowing in on what was trapped inside yesterday. The windows are open, but that doesn't help a lick. His white Hanes T-shirt is sticking to his back beneath his vest, pissing him off. He just showered and could already use another. Think. He took a shower and got dressed--pants, T-shirt, Kevlar vest, socks, boots, gun belt. Then he took his gun out of the safe, released the trigger lock, and then what? He looks down at his right hip. It's not there. He can feel the miss ing weight of it without even looking. He's got his magazine pouch, handcuffs, Mace, radio, and service baton, but no gun. It's not in the safe, not on his dresser, not in the top drawer of his dresser, not on the unmade bed. He looks over at Rosie's bureau. Nothing but the Virgin Mary centered on an ivory doily. She sure ain't going to help him. St. Anthony, where the fuck is it? He's tired. He worked traffic detail last night over at the Garden. Friggin' Justin Timberlake concert got out late. So he's tired. So what? He's been tired for years. He can't imagine being so tired that he would be careless enough to misplace his loaded gun. A lot of guys with as many years on the force as Joe grow complacent about their service weapon, but he never has. He stomps down the hall, passes the two other bedrooms, and pokes his head into their only bathroom. Nothing. He storms into the kitchen with his hands on his hips, the heel of his right hand searching for the top of his gun out of habit. His four not-yet-showered, bed-headed, sleepy teenagers are up and seated around the tiny kitchen table for breakfast--plates of undercooked bacon, runny scrambled eggs, and burnt white toast. The usual. Joe scans the room and spots his gun, his loaded gun, on the mustard-yellow Formica counter next to the sink. "Mornin', Dad," offers Katie, his youngest, smiling but shy about it, sensing that something is off. He ignores Katie. He picks up his Glock, secures it in its holster, and then aims the crosshairs of his wrath at Rosie. "Whaddaya doin' with my gun there?" "What are you talking about?" says Rosie, who is standing by the stove in a pink tank top and no bra, shorts, and bare feet. "You're always movin' my shit around," says Joe. "I never touch your gun," says Rosie, standing up to him. Rosie is petite at five feet nothing and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Joe's no giant either. He's five feet nine with his patrol boots on, but everyone thinks of him as being taller than he is, probably because he's barrel-chested and has muscular arms and a deep, husky voice. At thirty-six, he's got a bit of a gut, but not bad for his age or considering how much of his life he spends sitting in a cruiser. He's normally playful and easygoing, a pussycat really, but even when he's smiling and there's that twinkle in his blue eyes, everyone knows he's old-school tough. No one messes with Joe. No one but Rosie. She's right. She never touches his gun. Even after all these years of his being on the force, she's never grown comfortable with having a firearm in the house, even though it's always in the safe or in his top dresser drawer, where it's trigger-locked, or on his right hip. Until today. "Then how the fuck did it get there?" he asks, pointing to the space next to the sink. "Watch your mouth," she says. He looks over at his four kids, who have all stopped eating to witness the show. He narrows in on Patrick. God love him, but he's sixteen going on stupid. This would be just the kind of knucklehead move he would pull, even after all the lectures these kids have endured about the gun. "So which one of you did this?" They all stare and say nothing. The Charlestown code of silence, eh? "Who picked up my gun and left it by the sink?" he demands, his voice booming. Silence will not be an option. "Wasn't me, Dad," says Meghan. "Me either," says Katie. "Not me," says JJ. "I didn't do it," says Patrick. What every criminal he's ever arrested says. Everyone's a fuckin' saint. They all look up at him, blinking and waiting. Patrick shoves a rubbery slice of bacon into his mouth and chews. "Have some breakfast before you go, Joe," says Rosie. He's too late to have breakfast. He's too late because he's been looking for his goddamn gun that someone took and then left on the kitchen counter. He's late and feeling out of control, and he's hot, too hot. The air in this cramped room is too soupy to breathe, and it feels as if the heat from the stove and six bodies and the weather is stoking something already threatening to boil over inside him. He's going to be late for roll call, and Sergeant Rick McDonough, five years younger than Joe, is going to have a word with him again or maybe even write him up. He can't stomach the humiliating thought of it, and something inside him explodes. He grabs the cast-iron skillet on the stove by the handle and sidearms it across the room. It smashes a sizable hole in the drywall not far from Katie's head, then lands with a resounding BANG on the linoleum floor. Rusty brown bacon grease drips down the daisy-patterned wallpaper like blood oozing from a wound. The kids are wide-eyed and silent. Rosie says nothing and doesn't move. Joe storms out of the kitchen, down the narrow hallway, and steps into the bathroom. His heart is racing, and his head is hot, too hot. He splashes cold water over his hair and face and wipes himself dry with a hand towel. He needs to leave now, right now, but something in his reflection snags him and won't let go. His eyes. His pupils are dilated, black and wide with adrenaline, like shark eyes, but that's not it. It's the expression in his eyes that has him arrested. Wild, unfocused, full of rage. His mother. It's the same unbalanced gaze that used to terrify him as a young boy. He's looking in the mirror, late for roll call, glued to the wretched eyes of his mother, who used to stare at him just like this when she could do nothing else but lie in her bed in the psych ward at the state hospital, mute, emaciated, and possessed, waiting to die. The devil in his mother's eyes, dead for twenty-five years, is now staring at him in the bathroom mirror. Excerpted from Inside the O'Briens by Lisa Genova All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
