Reviewed by Ephantus Gold
“So . . . Where is she?” Alice says, “In the coffin at the front. They already brought her in.” Hanna gives a sharp laugh. “I meant our mother. Don’t get my hopes up.” Purchase Here.
This early conversation in “I’m Sorry You Feel That Way” by Rebecca Wait is between Hanna and Alice, two sisters who haven’t seen each other for a long time. They meet at Aunt Katy’s funeral where Alice has been nervously welcoming guests while trying not to sweat through her black dress, a dress she compares to a dark sack befitting a penance performance in Biblical times. Hanna jokes about hoping their mother is in the coffin using the words above, words that sound a warning to the reader about the weight of an ongoing family circus whose axis revolves around their mother, Celia, and her unseen presence in every conversation even when she is not in the room.
Celia, Alice, Hanna and their brother Michael are people who have lived together, shared the same house and eaten at the same table yet, they have always felt like strangers around each other. Michael is the mother’s favorite- her golden goose- a child who never goes wrong. Even when as a child he got caught stealing, Celia defended him, “My son… is not a thief.” Alice is the dutiful one and the most like Celia in both temperament and looks. Celia however expects her to take care of her, not to pursue her own needs and desires. Hanna on the other hand is the least loved child and she knows it. Celia sees her as volatile and impossible to control. Even when Hanna is diagnosed with depression, Celia believes that a family curse has fallen on her. But the mother’s belief, it turns out, is just another story.
Wait’s genius shines especially in how she presents a relatable picture of how family members identify each other based on rumors, assumptions, and errors of the past. The family rumors in this story are never fact-checked, and we as readers falls for them too. Wait surprises us and makes us realize we are too quick to judge. She has structured the story like a tragedy wearing a comedy mask, a comedy that highlights the pain instead of making you forget it. You could cry or become deeply saddened by the relatable family dynamics, but instead, Wait gives you moments to laugh, to shake your head and roll your eyes just before she draws the tears again when you have let down your guard.
If you have ever been sidelined or side-eyed in a family setup, this book will feel like a support group in novel form. And if you have ever felt like the difficult one, the story will be a major confidence booster, revealing to you that most times, the ones who don’t fit in, are the ones who see things more clearly. In a world that often asks us to choose between drama and comedy, this book allows you to feel both at once, in the end, leaving you with the recognition that life is messy, and the only way through it is to laugh and cry, often at the same time.
