Book Review by Heidi Simmons
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The Still Point of the Turning World
By Emily Rapp
Memoir
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Death is the one thing we all have in common. And someone you love will die. Grief is personal, visceral and intense. As common as death and grief is, we don’t like to talk about it. It is awkward and uncomfortable. Death and grief force us to grapple with unanswerable questions about life itself. In The Still Point of the Turning World, (Penguin Press, 260 pages) author Emily Rapp struggles to comprehend reality with the pending death of her young son Ronan.
In 2011, at nine months old, Ronan was diagnosed with Tay-Sachs, a rare and fatal degenerative disease. Rapp and her husband were told their son would never walk or talk. His lifespan would not exceed three years.
Rapp is a former Fulbright scholar and a graduate of Harvard University with a Masters degree in Divinity. She grew up in a Mid-West Protestant family, her father, a Pastor. The subject of God was always apart of her life and religious issues a regular topic of conversation. In the book she writes about religion. It did not comfort or help her. Instead, faith is scrutinized and hope disappears as she intellectualizes Ronan’s imminent death and her overwhelming grief.
The Still Point of the Turning World was released this month. Ronan died last month. Speaking at UCR Palm Desert’s Arts and Letters Series, Rapp read from her book and engaged in a conversation with program director Tod Goldberg. Rapp is a professor in the UCR Low-Residency MFA Creative Writing and Writing for the Performing Arts program.
Goldberg and Rapp are friends as well as colleagues. In their lively conversation with flippant asides, personal references and humorous quips, there was a profound and mounting sadness. This bright and beautiful woman lost her child just thirty days ago. Her voice never got tight, her eyes never watered. She never mentioned Ronan’s father — divorced before their son’s death. The mostly older audience, no doubt experienced with death and grief, was curious but cautious with their questions, possibly not wanting to pry or be too intrusive. Or perhaps they were simply uncomfortable with the subject. Rapp, although animated, stoically stared into the audience and unemotionally answered questions. Who can judge the way one grieves? No one!
“People are always shocked that I can talk about Ronan without freaking out, but he was sick for two years. By the time he died, he was ready to go. Anyone who’s ever lost someone knows that you’d rather have them not suffer than to live on. His body had nothing left for this world,” said Rapp. She bravely talks and writes about grief, but it seemed she only scratched the surface of her own sorrow — at any moment she might come undone, her intellect and paradigm only taking her so far.
With a degree in “God,” Rapp had a lot of resources. She knew Calvin, Luther, Hegel and other theologians and philosophers already contemplated the issues of meaning and loss. “In some ways, I was the best mother for Ronan because I was equipped with the belief that shit happens,” she said. Rapp also turned to classic literature and contemporary authors for how others contemplated and coped with the subject of death and grief.
“I realized that chaos is just the reality in life. If we can just honor that, understand that any one of us could drop dead at any moment, which we know, but don’t want to know, then we would live life differently. We wouldn’t get annoyed that they (children) didn’t get into a fancy preschool, or become lawyers or doctors.” She talked about kids as people. “They are not projects,” she said.
“Ronan never talked or walked. He was so beautiful and sweet, and had the best energy and presence. He was my kid. That is what he did, that was the span of his life. Does it suck? Sure. But it wouldn’t have sucked any less if he killed himself at 35 because he was depressed. No one knows what’s going to happen. And I find that really comforting,” expressed Rapp.
At the time of Ronan’s diagnosis, Rapp thought she would die. The thought of her son dying was too much to bear. Writing helped Rapp. She realized that to honor Ronan, to show her love for him, she had to go on. She came to realize her experience of grief was an expression of her deep and everlasting love for her son.
Rapp has been writing her whole life. Her first book, Poster Child: A Memoir (2007) is about her growing-up a March of Dimes poster child. Due to a congenital defect, by age six, Rapp’s leg was amputated above the knee. She learned to talk publicly about her disability. Even with her handicap, she strived to have a perfect body and life.
The Still Point of the Turning World is a continuing memoir. It reflects Rapp’s experience as a mother and the change in her life by loving her son with all her heart. The book is poetic, philosophical and beautiful. Her writing is personal, intellectual and profound. It is an important view on the subject of death, grief and most importantly life. In time, Rapp may have more to say on the subject — her journey clearly is not over.
Rapp writes, “It is a unique and terrible privilege to witness the entire arc of a life, to see it through from its inception to its end. But it is also an opportunity to love without a net, without the past, but right now.” Loss is a part of life. The lesson of The Still Point of the Turning World is to live and love fearlessly every moment.
