Publishers Weekly
DeBaggio's second memoir expands on his first, 2002's Losing My Mind. He turns away from the immediacies of Alzheimer's diagnosis and treatment and toward the past that his illness is gradually obscuring. During the late 1960s and early '70s, DeBaggio struggled as an underpaid reporter, new husband and father in Arlington, Va. Only when he launched a career as a commercial herb grower, working in greenhouses he built in his own suburban backyard, did he find success. An Alzheimer's diagnosis came at the unusually early age of 57. These specifics are rather deeply imbedded in a book composed primarily of simple, moment-to-moment observations, with gentle, cumulative strength and little drama. DeBaggio gives tension to his narrative by shifting back and forth between his past and present, with changes in tense and typography acting as signposts. But things get complicated when he weaves in numerous bits of other prose and poetry, including personal and professional correspondence, his own odd and sudden thoughts (e.g., "This is a county fair of the mind") and quotes from the likes of Beckett, Breton and William Carlos Williams. The book is at its best in describing the particulars of DeBaggio's career as an herb grower: shooing suburban raccoons, teaching orphaned baby robins to feed and fly, ignoring neighbors' skeptical attitudes. The horticultural writing, understated and often poetic, rivals that of Michael Pollard and Jamaica Kincaid and will reward patient readers. (Nov. 12) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
At age 57, DeBaggio was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Formerly a journalist and professional gardener, he recorded the course of his illness and its effects on his life in his remarkable 2002 memoir, Losing My Mind: An Intimate Look at Life with Alzheimer's. Here he continues his account of his struggle with the disease that causes "memories to leak through holes in my brain," gradually stealing his ability to write and, ultimately, his sense of self. Unlike his first book, which included scientific information about memory loss, this is a more personal work as DeBaggio writes "from the world of memory I've discovered inside my brain." He recounts stories of people and events from his past interspersed with observations on his failing abilities to handle everyday activities. He also describes how "[his] life creaks toward childhood" and expresses the fear and wonder his memory loss has brought him. Readers not familiar with the first book, which included introductory material that explained DeBaggio's diagnosis and why he decided to chronicle his life with Alzheimer's, may find this work less accessible. Nonetheless, both books offer a unique addition to the genre of personal writings on memory loss. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
A sequel to Losing My Mind (2002) continues the author’s poignant account of living with a disease that destroys memory and, with it, life’s meaning. DeBaggio, a former journalist and herb-grower, weaves together his recollections of his past life, his observations about the present, and his fears for the future. The larger part of the present work recounts his efforts to start a small garden business. In his backyard stands an empty greenhouse that is now both his repository of memories and his personal memorial. With his long-term memory battered but still intact, he recounts how it came to be there and why it’s now empty. DeBaggio’s picture of the changing face of Arlington, Virginia, where he has lived for decades, and especially of his neighborhood and his street, is fresh and clear. Along the way there are short, almost haiku-like fragments revealing his internal world ("A shadow as thin as a slice of tomorrow follows me around. It is the memory of yesterday") and his observations of the external ("A woman with smoky skin huddles against the cold wind as the sun comes up on a Tuesday morning"). Sad excerpts from his letters and bleak quotes from Henry Miller, Samuel Beckett, Kenneth Patchen, et al., dot the text, all without comment and needing none. By the end, his competencies are failing, his fear level has ratcheted up—but so has his acceptance level, and thoughts of death are frequent. DeBaggio makes agonizingly clear that experiencing the loss of one’s mind is painful and frightening. A sharp awakening to all those who imagine that Alzheimer’s sufferers remain blissfully unaware of what’s happening to them. Agent: Jonathon Lazear/Jonathon Lazear Agency
