It’s not weird to read books written by people you know, but it certainly is when it’s ABOUT people you know. And that’s exactly the case with Liz Levine’s Nobody Ever Talks About Anything But the End. Liz, a well-respected director based out west, suffered two great losses in the past 15 years or so – the death of her first love, Judson, and then 10 years later, her sister, Tamara. I didn’t know Judson, but I did know Tamara – she and I went to the same school and graduated the same year (Liz is also a BSS (Bishop Strachan School) Old Girl (alumna), a few grades above us). I also knew one of the Levine brothers from Queen’s.
The book is a memoir, written in vignettes, in alphabetical order, no longer than a few pages in length – all a look into Liz’s life. Each is represented by a word. It’s also a deep look into what it’s like to live with mental illness and how it affects family. While I expected the book to be rough, I didn’t expect it to be THAT rough. Mental health truly affects the entire family – immediate and extended – not just the individual. There were a few sequences where Liz describes in great detail, including one where Tamara and her mom met at a coffee shop and she started screaming at her. It must have been so difficult for their mother.
Tamara’s death affected Liz very differently from the death of her childhood friend (and first love/boy she kissed), Judson. Judson went to the boys’ school next door and was a son of a family friend (from what I gathered). While they did date, they weren’t meant to be – Judson eventually came out. Unlike Tamara, Liz was more prepared for Judson’s death as he had cancer. But still, it was a loved one and this impacted her greatly. The two of them had a tradition every December – they called it the “Jewboree” – ….. and the Boxing Day after his death, Judson’s brother, Josh, showed up at Liz’s family home. Because of Josh’s resemblance to his brother, it was as if she was seeing him…a mirage.
A few of the vignettes stood out for me. One was called “High School.” Liz goes back to her alma mater where a friend of hers was being honoured with an award. At the event, Liz notices a few tables of women nearby. It is filled with women celebrating their 20 year reunion – Tamara’s class. My class. She said many of the women seemed to have noticed her, but no one said anything TO her. It was too awkward. I was there. I was one of those women who didn’t say thing (if I even saw her at all). And Liz, I publicly apologize on behalf of myself and the 98ers if this had been the case. Or maybe we just didn’t see you at all. We were probably too busy taking selfies or pictures at the photo booth. Others were hilarious (and a welcome change to an otherwise depressing topic), including one entitled “Rabbi” – an Orthodox rabbi led (is this the right term?) shiva at her mom’s home. Liz and (most of) her family are not religious, yet, this guy was there, leading shiva. The rabbi was making her mother uncomfortable. He said he was there for a brother, who had since become religious. To kick him out, she gave him the tightest of hugs, including a bit of a…shimmy…that probably scared the living daylights out of him as many very religious Jews did not touch members of the opposite sex they were not related to. Liz’s father later said the guy probably went home to take a “scalding hot bath” to get rid of the sinful encounter!
I liked how Liz weaved a bit of humour (like the rabbi story) into such tragic circumstances. It made the book easier to read, especially when it involves some people you know. I found out about the book on an Old Girl Facebook group and because I want to support fellow Old Girls, bought the book almost immediately. It’s also a quick read, and, in fact, can be read out of order (though you might need to be familiar with some of the people she talks about). It was also an education for me, on how mental health can affect an entire family. While I’m an ally and advocate on mental health awareness, I wasn’t aware on what kind of toll it can take on a family, even after a child becomes and adult and moves out on her own. Liz’s parents, siblings and even Liz herself were all affected. And the family, being as privileged as they are, were STILL unable to help her. And while Judson’s death also affected Liz, it definitely didn’t the same way Tamara’s did.
I know I’m a little late posting this review. I read the book back in the summer and now it’s November. But as a mental health advocate – and a person who sees a therapist – it’s important to be open about issues and to help people understand that being “sick” isn’t just a physical thing. I come from a culture which not only believes that depression doesn’t exist, but also that admitting you need help from a mental health perspective means something is “wrong” with your family, not only in the past, but the future as well (okay, mental health is often genetic, but still. To say that you’re “ruined” and that you’re “losing face” seems wrong – and make the situation even worse). I just hope that more people discuss how mental health affects not only them, but their family as well. And that more people, regardless of heritage, we need to be more open and discuss how it not only affects those of us who have “issues,” but for family members to talk about how it affects them. I certainly hope that things will change quickly and that people will become more accepting of this as being a health issue. We’re more accepting of cancer now. Why can’t we be for mental health? Especially these days?
