In "Slices," Violet Wilson looks back at her first years away from home, first at college, then after dropping out, as she struggles to make sense of her urges to cut herself. She doesn't offer neatly wrapped-up explanations of her motivations; the vignettes focus on what she thought and how she felt in the moment. The few dispassionate memories of childhood abuse are not served up as "A-ha!" explanations, since that's not how it felt at the time. There is a lot of confusion, a lot of shame, and a lot of failed attempts to connect. But there are also some patient friends, a couple of morbidly comic moments in a mental hospital and at a funeral, and, by the end, a tiny smidgen of hope that Violet will find her way.
What, I can't review my own book? It's not like I'm giving it a full 5 stars.
My main complaint is that there's no closure, no ending, no redemption. I understand that the author is finally working on the next chapters, but I've been waiting 10 frickin' years already! I mean, how long does it take to distill a lifetime of abuse and the resulting maladaptive coping mechanisms into accessible prose?
That said, I am intrigued enough by what I've read so far that I'll most likely continue when the next volume comes out. I just hope there's a happy ending; I've heard that the author is doing pretty well these days, but until she gets off her butt and writes about it, I'm not sure I buy it.
When I was seeing my favorite therapist 20+ years ago, I remember telling him that I wished I had a vcr in my brain that I could tape how I was feeling and then give it to him so he could see how I felt since I didn't have the words to describe it. I liked this first book of the trilogy because Wilson describes how I was feeling when I had panic attacks, when I dissociated, when I self-harmed. It wasn't exactly the same, but it was so close that I'm calling this the VCR tape I wanted to give Dr. A.