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The Invisible Girls
Twenty-seven-year-old Sarah The barge had it all - a loving boyfriend, an Ivy League degree, and a successful career - when her life was derailed by an unthinkable aggressive breast cancer. After surviving the grueling treatments - though just barely - Sarah moved to Portland, Oregon to start over. There, a chance encounter with an exhausted African mother and her daughters transformed her life again.
A Somali refugee whose husband had left her, Hadhi was struggling to raise five young daughters, half a world a way from her war-torn homeland. Alone in a strange country, Hadhi and the girls were on the brink of starvation in their own home, "invisible" to their neighbors and to the world. As Sarah helped Hadhi and the girls navigate American life, her outreach to the family became a source of courage and a lifeline for herself.
Poignant, at times shattering, Sarah The barge's riveting memoir invites readers to engage in her story of finding connection, love, and redemption in the most unexpected places.
A Somali refugee whose husband had left her, Hadhi was struggling to raise five young daughters, half a world a way from her war-torn homeland. Alone in a strange country, Hadhi and the girls were on the brink of starvation in their own home, "invisible" to their neighbors and to the world. As Sarah helped Hadhi and the girls navigate American life, her outreach to the family became a source of courage and a lifeline for herself.
Poignant, at times shattering, Sarah The barge's riveting memoir invites readers to engage in her story of finding connection, love, and redemption in the most unexpected places.
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 437 reviews
April 21, 2013
Very mixed feelings about this one; but I think it's well worth the read. This memoir was really three stories, two of them very absorbing and the third...well, for me, not so much. Briefly, a young woman who was raised in a fundamentalist religious home, grows up to far surpass what was "expected" of a woman. She earns two degrees, becomes a medical professional (with plans also in journalism) but develops breast cancer in her twenties. This part of the story was chilling, heart-breaking, inspiring as she battles through set back after medical setback, all the while enduring spiritual, emotional, and romantic disappointment. Through the entire book, she struggles w/ her faith, and especially through her protracted battle w/ cancer, nearly giving up on God. After her medical ordeal (nearly two years), she relocates to Portland and meets, by chance, a refugee Somali family (a mother w/ five little girls) who are living in desperate poverty.
Her taking this family under her wing and trying to help in every way she could, was fascinating. In a very real sense, the family saved her as much as she saved them. This part of the book was a sad revelation of the difficulties and hurtles many refugees face, even here.
She continued to struggle w/ her beliefs, but at last found her way back to real faith. This was as important to her as overcoming her illness, but the ending bothered me...the indications were she was becoming intense enough in her re-discovered faith, to begin proselytizing, beginning w/ a young prositute she meets on the street. For someone of faith, this aspect of the book might be very inspiring, but I found her childhood church and the clergy in it to be misogynistic and narrow-minded. Since she is a generous and extremely giving person, I'm hoping her brand of religion might differ from how she was brought up. She continues to write and publish, mainly to publicize the plight of political refugees, and even raise enough money to send the little girls to college one day. I guess that kind of faith, even I can believe in.
Her taking this family under her wing and trying to help in every way she could, was fascinating. In a very real sense, the family saved her as much as she saved them. This part of the book was a sad revelation of the difficulties and hurtles many refugees face, even here.
She continued to struggle w/ her beliefs, but at last found her way back to real faith. This was as important to her as overcoming her illness, but the ending bothered me...the indications were she was becoming intense enough in her re-discovered faith, to begin proselytizing, beginning w/ a young prositute she meets on the street. For someone of faith, this aspect of the book might be very inspiring, but I found her childhood church and the clergy in it to be misogynistic and narrow-minded. Since she is a generous and extremely giving person, I'm hoping her brand of religion might differ from how she was brought up. She continues to write and publish, mainly to publicize the plight of political refugees, and even raise enough money to send the little girls to college one day. I guess that kind of faith, even I can believe in.
January 5, 2015
I have no doubt that Thebarge means well. However, this memoir is disjointed, self-serving, and completely privilege blind. It is half of the story; a minute glimpse into the plight of a family of Somalian refugees wholly through the lens of a young, American cancer survivor. We get zero time with the family outside of Thebarge's judgements of and interactions with them. Without these pieces of the story, I have a very hard time believing this project was created to benefit this Somalian family. (Not to mention that enlisting local organizations would insure that the family gets long term assistance and resources from trained professionals.) Ultimately, Invisible Girls reads as a vanity project to salve the author's feelings of loss and displacement. Will not recommend to anyone ever.
September 26, 2014
I wanted to like this book, I really did. It was recommended to me by a dear friend who is also a writer, and the topic of immigrants and poverty and spiritual growth are close to my heart. But I can't recommend it. Either the writer is too young to be writing memoir or she is still too close to the events in the book to be able to provide much depth or perspective. I think it's the former, because the tone is self-absorbed and self-congratulatory (we are told about two dozen times that the little girls shriek and race to hug her each time she arrives at their apartment).
The spiritual journey is shallow and not well fleshed out, although it's supposed to be a major part of the book. The structure is clunky and the time frame is hard to follow; she's always moving back and forth in time with no markers. I'm afraid I don't have much good to say about it. On to the next memoir on my list...
The spiritual journey is shallow and not well fleshed out, although it's supposed to be a major part of the book. The structure is clunky and the time frame is hard to follow; she's always moving back and forth in time with no markers. I'm afraid I don't have much good to say about it. On to the next memoir on my list...
February 12, 2013
I was drawn in by the title of this book, and I must say I am still unclear who exactly Ms. Thebarge means. Is it her, because of her breast cancer diagnosis at an early age; is it the family of Somalians she befriends; or the little girls of that family that are invisible?
This was not an easy read because of all the disjointed ideas and fragmented thoughts. While this is a her account of her experience with medical issues, I found it difficult to believe/understand some of the claims. I, too, am a breast cancer survivor, but I never once felt " invisible" becuase of it, and I never once felt less than compassion and caring and true concern from all levels of the medical profession with whom I had contact.
The final point of this book was Ms. Thebarge's concern about who was going to help the little girls go to college. What a naive leap was made here. These are children who didn't know what toilet paper was for, have beds; they didn't know what silverware was, or even have chairs to sit in. The mother still couldn't speak or understand English without her daughter translating by the end of the book. And Ms. Thebarge worries who will pay for college? What about who will help them with their basic daily needs and socialization?
This may have been a blog jounal of interest, but it doesn't merit a book. At least not a book where so many thoughts have been intertwined just to try to make a link between two separate and distinct stories.
I do applaud the author for stepping outside her comfort zone and befriending these people. She just needs to crystallize her thoguhts and be more clear on the development of a new life for her new friends.
This was not an easy read because of all the disjointed ideas and fragmented thoughts. While this is a her account of her experience with medical issues, I found it difficult to believe/understand some of the claims. I, too, am a breast cancer survivor, but I never once felt " invisible" becuase of it, and I never once felt less than compassion and caring and true concern from all levels of the medical profession with whom I had contact.
The final point of this book was Ms. Thebarge's concern about who was going to help the little girls go to college. What a naive leap was made here. These are children who didn't know what toilet paper was for, have beds; they didn't know what silverware was, or even have chairs to sit in. The mother still couldn't speak or understand English without her daughter translating by the end of the book. And Ms. Thebarge worries who will pay for college? What about who will help them with their basic daily needs and socialization?
This may have been a blog jounal of interest, but it doesn't merit a book. At least not a book where so many thoughts have been intertwined just to try to make a link between two separate and distinct stories.
I do applaud the author for stepping outside her comfort zone and befriending these people. She just needs to crystallize her thoguhts and be more clear on the development of a new life for her new friends.
December 31, 2014
Absolutely seeped in self-congratulation and condescension, with no small amount of Christian evangelizing. There's probably a good story in here and a worthwhile cause, but... well, the last line of the book is literally a child telling the author "... when I grow up, I want to be just like you." FIN.
May 5, 2013
I read this post from Sarah on a Saturday, ordered the book almost immediately and had it in hand early the next week. Within 36 hours from the time I glanced at the first pages, I'd read the entire thing. I hardly ever do this – some books take me months to read.
A number of things about this book intrigued me. First is the interplay between the story of how a young woman grappled with a double mastectomy and her interaction with a Somali family lost in a culture they didn't understand.
Second, she reaches a hope-filled conclusion as to where God is when the pain and loneliness are louder than any other sounds and people don't know what to say or do so they withdraw. Finally, she calls attention to a population in the United States in need of serious consideration: Immigrants who are treated as though they don't exist due to ethic, linguistic, and religious differences; therefore, their lives here in the land of the free and the home of the brave are made even more challenging. Sarah helps us see this doesn't have to be and can be changed one family at a time.
A number of things about this book intrigued me. First is the interplay between the story of how a young woman grappled with a double mastectomy and her interaction with a Somali family lost in a culture they didn't understand.
Second, she reaches a hope-filled conclusion as to where God is when the pain and loneliness are louder than any other sounds and people don't know what to say or do so they withdraw. Finally, she calls attention to a population in the United States in need of serious consideration: Immigrants who are treated as though they don't exist due to ethic, linguistic, and religious differences; therefore, their lives here in the land of the free and the home of the brave are made even more challenging. Sarah helps us see this doesn't have to be and can be changed one family at a time.
May 2, 2013
A memoir. I seem to be reading more memoirs these days than I have at any other point in my life. Maybe it's because more people are writing them? Or because people are taking memoir more seriously? Or because I'm taking memoir more seriously now that I've hit the wise, old age of 26? Probably, it partially has something to do with the rise of blogs and the coveted blog-to-book-deal dream.
I think this one was a blog-to-book-deal. At least, TheBarge mentions a blog. I tried to find it, but all I found was a wiped template with a few pages advertising the book. Now that a publisher is paying her for her story, the blog is dead.
This makes me sad for blogs.
Sarah TheBarge does have quite the story, and certainly a story that belong on paper, reaching more people than her blog would have, perhaps. At the age of 27, her life fell apart when she discovered blood on her shirt and, upon squeezing her breast, realize something was very very wrong. A double mastectomy. And then, it recurred. Essentially, TheBarge lived through a nightmare.
A few years later, in a new city, trying to restart her life, she meets a Somalian woman and her children on a bus and a new part of her story begins as she gets to know the family and helps them survive in the new and unfamiliar country.
It was a touching story. Emotional. Difficult to read. There were times I had to close the book on my commute home or face the embarrassment of crying on the subway. But, this book is also problematic in two very different ways.
1) Are you familiar with the White Saviour Complex? Admittedly, I was warned before I started this book that its pages are filled with it, so perhaps it was all the more glaring for me, this idea that Westerners, specifically white westerners, will save Africa, that, without us, they will be lost, suffering savages. This complex is generally attached to the attitude of Westerners when they go to African countries, but I couldn't ignore its presence in this book as well. TheBarge muses more than once about what would have happened to Hadhi, the Somalian woman, and her children if she hadn't met them on the bus that day. The problem with this? Hadhi is not empowered by TheBarge's attitude. Her work to care for her children, to eke out a life for them in this new place goes unacknowledged.
I would never say that we shouldn't acknowledge our privilege and recognize that we can help those who struggle here at home or in other countries. I'm not saying that TheBarge should have ignored this family on the bus. I'm not saying that she shouldn't have done all the things she did, bringing them gifts, helping them make ends meet. But her attitude about what she was doing irked me. Help, yes, but don't assume that you are the only thing protecting them from sure death and suffering.
2) TheBarge grew up in a strict Baptist community. The book is strongly Christian, which, being a Christian myself, I actually enjoyed. She makes some beautiful realizations about God and suffering as she struggles with her illness and her relationships. But, as she described her upbringing, her church, and the community in which she was raised, I became frustrated with what she wasn't saying. She shrugged off the emotional abuse, in one breath using it for shock value and in another, dismissing the actions of others as normal, as not their fault, as justified and rationalized. She holds the hurt of being abandoned by her church community and her boyfriend as she struggled through treatment at arms length, unwilling to acknowledge how absolutely shitty they were to her. It bothered me. Sometimes, I think people use religion as an excuse to be terrible to their kids, their spouses, those who are, in some way, under their control and no one ever holds them to their actions.
At the end of the book, I felt a little bit like TheBarge wasn't necessarily ready to write her story yet. It felt raw at times (see above, crying on the subway), but at others, she seemed to be holding the reader or her experience at arms length, laying out facts and actions without exploring them further, without letting the reader into the deep, gut-wrenching pain she must have gone through. Her journey was powerful, but in this book, I don't think she allowed it be.
http://www.thisdustyhouse.com/2013/05...
I think this one was a blog-to-book-deal. At least, TheBarge mentions a blog. I tried to find it, but all I found was a wiped template with a few pages advertising the book. Now that a publisher is paying her for her story, the blog is dead.
This makes me sad for blogs.
Sarah TheBarge does have quite the story, and certainly a story that belong on paper, reaching more people than her blog would have, perhaps. At the age of 27, her life fell apart when she discovered blood on her shirt and, upon squeezing her breast, realize something was very very wrong. A double mastectomy. And then, it recurred. Essentially, TheBarge lived through a nightmare.
A few years later, in a new city, trying to restart her life, she meets a Somalian woman and her children on a bus and a new part of her story begins as she gets to know the family and helps them survive in the new and unfamiliar country.
It was a touching story. Emotional. Difficult to read. There were times I had to close the book on my commute home or face the embarrassment of crying on the subway. But, this book is also problematic in two very different ways.
1) Are you familiar with the White Saviour Complex? Admittedly, I was warned before I started this book that its pages are filled with it, so perhaps it was all the more glaring for me, this idea that Westerners, specifically white westerners, will save Africa, that, without us, they will be lost, suffering savages. This complex is generally attached to the attitude of Westerners when they go to African countries, but I couldn't ignore its presence in this book as well. TheBarge muses more than once about what would have happened to Hadhi, the Somalian woman, and her children if she hadn't met them on the bus that day. The problem with this? Hadhi is not empowered by TheBarge's attitude. Her work to care for her children, to eke out a life for them in this new place goes unacknowledged.
I would never say that we shouldn't acknowledge our privilege and recognize that we can help those who struggle here at home or in other countries. I'm not saying that TheBarge should have ignored this family on the bus. I'm not saying that she shouldn't have done all the things she did, bringing them gifts, helping them make ends meet. But her attitude about what she was doing irked me. Help, yes, but don't assume that you are the only thing protecting them from sure death and suffering.
2) TheBarge grew up in a strict Baptist community. The book is strongly Christian, which, being a Christian myself, I actually enjoyed. She makes some beautiful realizations about God and suffering as she struggles with her illness and her relationships. But, as she described her upbringing, her church, and the community in which she was raised, I became frustrated with what she wasn't saying. She shrugged off the emotional abuse, in one breath using it for shock value and in another, dismissing the actions of others as normal, as not their fault, as justified and rationalized. She holds the hurt of being abandoned by her church community and her boyfriend as she struggled through treatment at arms length, unwilling to acknowledge how absolutely shitty they were to her. It bothered me. Sometimes, I think people use religion as an excuse to be terrible to their kids, their spouses, those who are, in some way, under their control and no one ever holds them to their actions.
At the end of the book, I felt a little bit like TheBarge wasn't necessarily ready to write her story yet. It felt raw at times (see above, crying on the subway), but at others, she seemed to be holding the reader or her experience at arms length, laying out facts and actions without exploring them further, without letting the reader into the deep, gut-wrenching pain she must have gone through. Her journey was powerful, but in this book, I don't think she allowed it be.
http://www.thisdustyhouse.com/2013/05...
February 8, 2019
This is really three books in one.
There is the story of how Sarah meets a Somali refugee family on a train and immediately feels a connection with them, and so befriends the mother and her five girls and becomes a part of her life.
Then there is the flashback story to when, at 27, Sarah was diagnosed with breast cancer. This is told with very honest emotion and feelings ; not just the shock and physical pain, but also how it seemed that her friends, and fiancee, all seemed to distance themselves from her at a time when she needed them most.
Lastly is Sarah's story of faith. I am not a religious person, so this part was hard for me to relate to, and tbh, by the end of the book she had become a little too evangelical for me. However, I appreciate her devotion and her ability to keep her faith through very difficult times. Particularly considering the fundamental upbringing she had.
And so the invisible girls are the refugee family who are brought to America with no skills, money, or language to be able to live effectively. It is also Sarah who became invisible to everyone through her illness. And it is also the girls Sarah grew up with in a fundamental christian upbringing who were seen as a means to procreate and have no further value outside of being a mother.
It is a memoir, so we are obviously getting one viewpoint, but it did make me wonder about what support networks are available in the US for refugees. It seemed that without Sarah's support the family would have starved and/or frozen at some points. There is also the slight cringe factor that she would buy them pizzas, and soap and toilet paper... and never really explained why she didn't go to a refugee or migrant center to get the family some help (I can only assume they exist there?). But Sarah was rather broken from her experiences and needed the family perhaps more than they needed her.
An interesting novel, for which the proceeds are being used to send these 5 Somali girls to college. How fascinating it would be to read their stories in the years to come.
There is the story of how Sarah meets a Somali refugee family on a train and immediately feels a connection with them, and so befriends the mother and her five girls and becomes a part of her life.
Then there is the flashback story to when, at 27, Sarah was diagnosed with breast cancer. This is told with very honest emotion and feelings ; not just the shock and physical pain, but also how it seemed that her friends, and fiancee, all seemed to distance themselves from her at a time when she needed them most.
Lastly is Sarah's story of faith. I am not a religious person, so this part was hard for me to relate to, and tbh, by the end of the book she had become a little too evangelical for me. However, I appreciate her devotion and her ability to keep her faith through very difficult times. Particularly considering the fundamental upbringing she had.
And so the invisible girls are the refugee family who are brought to America with no skills, money, or language to be able to live effectively. It is also Sarah who became invisible to everyone through her illness. And it is also the girls Sarah grew up with in a fundamental christian upbringing who were seen as a means to procreate and have no further value outside of being a mother.
It is a memoir, so we are obviously getting one viewpoint, but it did make me wonder about what support networks are available in the US for refugees. It seemed that without Sarah's support the family would have starved and/or frozen at some points. There is also the slight cringe factor that she would buy them pizzas, and soap and toilet paper... and never really explained why she didn't go to a refugee or migrant center to get the family some help (I can only assume they exist there?). But Sarah was rather broken from her experiences and needed the family perhaps more than they needed her.
An interesting novel, for which the proceeds are being used to send these 5 Somali girls to college. How fascinating it would be to read their stories in the years to come.
April 19, 2013
Sarah Thebarge’s The Invisible Girls: A Memoir is a testament to endurance, hope, and selflessness. Sarah grew up a pastor’s child in a conservative Christian family. As a young adult, her future seemed bright. A bright student, she earned a pair of Ivy League degrees in journalism and medicine. Mr. Right seemed close to proposing. That is until cancer derailed the trajectory of her life and she found herself on the brink of death. After narrowly surviving, she fled her life and found herself in Portland, OR, as far away as she could get. It was there she chanced upon a family of Somali refugee girls on the commuter train. Sarah took a chance and befriended the family. As their improbably friendship developed, Sarah discovered their commonality. She too was a refugee from her own life. She too was oppressed the religious fundamentalism of her tribe, particularly regarding the suffocating roles assigned to women. God was a harsh patriarch who treated her in ways she could not treat her worst enemy. Through the process of losing her life to help this struggling family, she recovers her faith and a God worth worshipping.
Sarah writes in a nimble and understated style. Her characters like Vonnegut’s: Potato chip thin and irresistible. You cannot stop at one, two, or twelve. She recounts each set back, trial, and betrayal with journalistic objectivity, leaving room for the reader to mourn and get angry for her. Her deceptions of despair and hope are equally believable, making her one of the promising voices in the genre of spiritual memoir. I suspect that she, along with Mike Stavlund, are among the brightest in the next generation of spiritual memoirist that will push the genre forward with as much force as Donald Miller and Anne Lamott did a decade ago. This is not to say Sarah’s voice is derivative of either of these giants. Her voice was uniquely forged on the anvil of her suffering, her wisdom was hard won. I look forward to reading more of Thebarge’s work. She has a voice that deserves to be heard for years to come.
Sarah writes in a nimble and understated style. Her characters like Vonnegut’s: Potato chip thin and irresistible. You cannot stop at one, two, or twelve. She recounts each set back, trial, and betrayal with journalistic objectivity, leaving room for the reader to mourn and get angry for her. Her deceptions of despair and hope are equally believable, making her one of the promising voices in the genre of spiritual memoir. I suspect that she, along with Mike Stavlund, are among the brightest in the next generation of spiritual memoirist that will push the genre forward with as much force as Donald Miller and Anne Lamott did a decade ago. This is not to say Sarah’s voice is derivative of either of these giants. Her voice was uniquely forged on the anvil of her suffering, her wisdom was hard won. I look forward to reading more of Thebarge’s work. She has a voice that deserves to be heard for years to come.
August 7, 2015
I give this book 2 stars because I appreciate that the proceeds of the book and donations will go to sending the Somali girls to college. The cause is respectable, but the actual book was close to terrible, in my opinion. The writing was so transparent and bland that I read this in less that two days, which may sound slow to some but is actually pretty quick for me.
The jumping back and forth between her cancer story and helping the Somali family felt just like that: jumping. It was almost like she took two diaries of her life and shuffled them together like you would a deck of cards. The book had the same effect as if I had been challenged to read someone's entire blog as fast as possible but wasn't allowed to read it in order. And each chapter felt like a blog post! Just enough information to let you know what was happening and for her to tell you how she felt about it, but not nearly enough to make me feel a connection to it.
Frankly, I will never read this book again and I would not recommend it to anyone who wants a good book with depth. I respect the girl for what she went through, but that doesn't make her book good. I feel like if she wanted to write a book to raise money for the Somali family, she should have focused on them. However, the majority of the book was about her. I think her writing would have been a lot better if she wrote one book focusing on each story rather than pathetically trying to reconcile them into one.
The jumping back and forth between her cancer story and helping the Somali family felt just like that: jumping. It was almost like she took two diaries of her life and shuffled them together like you would a deck of cards. The book had the same effect as if I had been challenged to read someone's entire blog as fast as possible but wasn't allowed to read it in order. And each chapter felt like a blog post! Just enough information to let you know what was happening and for her to tell you how she felt about it, but not nearly enough to make me feel a connection to it.
Frankly, I will never read this book again and I would not recommend it to anyone who wants a good book with depth. I respect the girl for what she went through, but that doesn't make her book good. I feel like if she wanted to write a book to raise money for the Somali family, she should have focused on them. However, the majority of the book was about her. I think her writing would have been a lot better if she wrote one book focusing on each story rather than pathetically trying to reconcile them into one.
March 5, 2013
When I read the back of the book - I was intrigued. A young woman, lost in life due to her struggle with cancer, encounters a family of immigrants on a bus. She connects with them and finds common ground with the "invisible girls." It's an uplifting journey for the family and the author, though ultimately leaves a bit to be desired.
I'm not sure what the lesson is. I know that we need to make the plight of unseen immigrants more visible. At the end of the day, I understand that there is a huge issue of immigrants and people that are lost in the system. I wound up loving this struggling family and rooting for them. I don't know, however, that the solution that the author found was a sustainable one. I think she found herself and made a difference in this family's life. That is an amazing step in and of itself.
The ending was bittersweet and the story a little disjointed, but in the end, uplifting. I'm glad I read it and have a new appreciation for the struggling families among us.
I'm not sure what the lesson is. I know that we need to make the plight of unseen immigrants more visible. At the end of the day, I understand that there is a huge issue of immigrants and people that are lost in the system. I wound up loving this struggling family and rooting for them. I don't know, however, that the solution that the author found was a sustainable one. I think she found herself and made a difference in this family's life. That is an amazing step in and of itself.
The ending was bittersweet and the story a little disjointed, but in the end, uplifting. I'm glad I read it and have a new appreciation for the struggling families among us.
May 1, 2014
This was a great read for 3/4. The parallel and comparative stories of the authors struggle with breast cancer and the Somali girls' struggle to survive in the US was engaging and heart wrenching. The question of why God would cause or, at least, allow this incredible suffering is a damn good question and not one that I expected the author to really answer.
But all of a sudden she did answer it. She used the story of a child in pain from an IV needle and the mother knowing that the pain was necessary for the child to get well.
So after this incredible story the question of why god allows suffering was answered with the same BS answer that I would expect the author heard during her fundamentalist upbringing. God lets us suffer for our own good and we are too small to understand god's plans. I guess with that logic god isn't powerful enough to accomplish his plans without causing suffering or he is sadistic.
But all of a sudden she did answer it. She used the story of a child in pain from an IV needle and the mother knowing that the pain was necessary for the child to get well.
So after this incredible story the question of why god allows suffering was answered with the same BS answer that I would expect the author heard during her fundamentalist upbringing. God lets us suffer for our own good and we are too small to understand god's plans. I guess with that logic god isn't powerful enough to accomplish his plans without causing suffering or he is sadistic.
September 27, 2018
This book combined two things very relatable to me...
1. Outreach to a family in need of friendship which is something I aspire to and dream of.
and
2. A memoir of a cancer journey something I have not experienced personally but have walked out alongside my mom, grandmother, grandfather, and several friends. Sarah's cancer story even took place at Yale New Haven Hospital where I and my family can navigate the cancer wing quite well.
The Invisible Girls beautifully blends pain and joy, hope and heartbreak, suffering and comfort, love and abandonment. Life, even life with a loving heavenly father, is not all one or the other. Sarah paints the mixed swirl of emotions and experiences with grace and depth.
My one and only complaint about this story is the unresolved musing about the expected roles of women in the church. The author dwells on her childhood and adolescent struggle with feeling marginalized as a woman in a conservative church. When the book ended, I wished for something that would take her frustrations and pain and offer women reading her story a Biblical solution.
Here's to reading stories like this and being inspired to be the next person to smile at the poorly dressed toddler playing peek-a-book with you or extend grace to the woman in charge of a child having a seemingly unwarranted meltdown. "They will know we are Christians by our love."
1. Outreach to a family in need of friendship which is something I aspire to and dream of.
and
2. A memoir of a cancer journey something I have not experienced personally but have walked out alongside my mom, grandmother, grandfather, and several friends. Sarah's cancer story even took place at Yale New Haven Hospital where I and my family can navigate the cancer wing quite well.
The Invisible Girls beautifully blends pain and joy, hope and heartbreak, suffering and comfort, love and abandonment. Life, even life with a loving heavenly father, is not all one or the other. Sarah paints the mixed swirl of emotions and experiences with grace and depth.
My one and only complaint about this story is the unresolved musing about the expected roles of women in the church. The author dwells on her childhood and adolescent struggle with feeling marginalized as a woman in a conservative church. When the book ended, I wished for something that would take her frustrations and pain and offer women reading her story a Biblical solution.
Here's to reading stories like this and being inspired to be the next person to smile at the poorly dressed toddler playing peek-a-book with you or extend grace to the woman in charge of a child having a seemingly unwarranted meltdown. "They will know we are Christians by our love."
April 25, 2013
I am Strictly in a Love/Like relationship with this book, I Love to like it and i like to love it...
phewwwww, where to start?
Anyone who has had Cancer, YOU.FRICKIN.ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!! whether they survived or not, to fight something inside you, you could give up and end it quickly, but you stay and fight! and know you could lose sight of yourself because of it... I hope y'all realise how strong you are even if you can't hold a plastic cup and your eyelids are 10 kilo weights, YOU.ARE.AMAZING!
On with the book, We are thrown in straight away, we know whats happening from the Blurb and there is no, ''oh wait lets back up 2 thousand steps before getting to something the readers already know'' We see the first meeting between Sarah and Hadhi (or rather Sarah and Lelo). I Love the children, Amazing, tender, lovable monsters :P
We do see a lot of back story, Sarah (Sahara) dealing with every aspect of her cancer with a realistic expression of her feelings, I read one other book which briefly covered a cancer patient ending things 'her way' and even though we know she's upset, nervous and 100 other emotions, it didn't scratch what i felt reading this book, we knew every tear, scream of frustration, stabs of pain, emotional breakdowns-a-many... we could feel it, the drowning sensation of never being or feeling alive again.
I love children, always wanted a colony of my own running around someday, and when i read what the cancer had done, i almost curled into a ball, it hit me how easily our choices could be taken away and i hate that so many others must suffer it.
I Found a possible connection between past and present chapters but i'm not going to state it like fact because i'll need to at least re-read the book a few more times to get a grip on what i think i'm seeing. even if its small, there is something in the Past chapters, unresolved issues that are put to a peaceful end in a way. We know how angry she is about everything and the suffocating childhood, but when Sarah is with Hadhi and the girls, something makes the issue settle unconsciously in her mind.
I can certainly see why some would feel like they are reading the same things over and over, the cancer treatments, crying, childhood, Hadhi, the Somali children, but if you dig deep, so much happens, still waters run deep, and as soon as i finish this review i will be recommending this book.
Some of the Chapters could have been merged together and not been so short.
It isn't hidden how ugly situations can be, how poverty is just one big 'turd' with no money, Cancer brings pneumonia to the party and makes life unnecessarily crazy. And i totally felt that the whole 'The husband' scenes were going to get really crazy and found myself thankful it turned out a lot better.
I found the hard-up Religious context hard to swallow at times. It may be because i am not a religious person but it normally doesn't bother me too much but the bright light of love coming from the children more than made up for it.
The ending was surprising and pleasant all in one and i really want to visit the Cancer patient ward and keep them company, Give them the support system that Sarah seemed lacking in.
OH! and before i forget, assholes like Ian are everywhere, as soon as a partner gets sick or things are too tough, they bail out and i think its good they the sick partner knows that anyone who runs away right when their needed most is obviously the last person you ever want to be with. Still wanna kick those chicken's right in the Netherlands and they choke on their own chicken shit!
......
So, i think this book is worth the read, its a peaceful book even though it has stressful situations, it's written so well that it settles me, i can relax and enjoy the story as it goes and not worry about idiotic characters causing unnecessary crap/drama where it isn't needed.
Oh, and i got this book in a giveaway and the review is part of the agreement but to be honest, this book needs more people to realise it's out there and need to read it, like, YESTERDAY! lol.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did :D
xxxx
phewwwww, where to start?
Anyone who has had Cancer, YOU.FRICKIN.ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!! whether they survived or not, to fight something inside you, you could give up and end it quickly, but you stay and fight! and know you could lose sight of yourself because of it... I hope y'all realise how strong you are even if you can't hold a plastic cup and your eyelids are 10 kilo weights, YOU.ARE.AMAZING!
On with the book, We are thrown in straight away, we know whats happening from the Blurb and there is no, ''oh wait lets back up 2 thousand steps before getting to something the readers already know'' We see the first meeting between Sarah and Hadhi (or rather Sarah and Lelo). I Love the children, Amazing, tender, lovable monsters :P
We do see a lot of back story, Sarah (Sahara) dealing with every aspect of her cancer with a realistic expression of her feelings, I read one other book which briefly covered a cancer patient ending things 'her way' and even though we know she's upset, nervous and 100 other emotions, it didn't scratch what i felt reading this book, we knew every tear, scream of frustration, stabs of pain, emotional breakdowns-a-many... we could feel it, the drowning sensation of never being or feeling alive again.
I love children, always wanted a colony of my own running around someday, and when i read what the cancer had done, i almost curled into a ball, it hit me how easily our choices could be taken away and i hate that so many others must suffer it.
I Found a possible connection between past and present chapters but i'm not going to state it like fact because i'll need to at least re-read the book a few more times to get a grip on what i think i'm seeing. even if its small, there is something in the Past chapters, unresolved issues that are put to a peaceful end in a way. We know how angry she is about everything and the suffocating childhood, but when Sarah is with Hadhi and the girls, something makes the issue settle unconsciously in her mind.
I can certainly see why some would feel like they are reading the same things over and over, the cancer treatments, crying, childhood, Hadhi, the Somali children, but if you dig deep, so much happens, still waters run deep, and as soon as i finish this review i will be recommending this book.
Some of the Chapters could have been merged together and not been so short.
It isn't hidden how ugly situations can be, how poverty is just one big 'turd' with no money, Cancer brings pneumonia to the party and makes life unnecessarily crazy. And i totally felt that the whole 'The husband' scenes were going to get really crazy and found myself thankful it turned out a lot better.
I found the hard-up Religious context hard to swallow at times. It may be because i am not a religious person but it normally doesn't bother me too much but the bright light of love coming from the children more than made up for it.
The ending was surprising and pleasant all in one and i really want to visit the Cancer patient ward and keep them company, Give them the support system that Sarah seemed lacking in.
OH! and before i forget, assholes like Ian are everywhere, as soon as a partner gets sick or things are too tough, they bail out and i think its good they the sick partner knows that anyone who runs away right when their needed most is obviously the last person you ever want to be with. Still wanna kick those chicken's right in the Netherlands and they choke on their own chicken shit!
......
So, i think this book is worth the read, its a peaceful book even though it has stressful situations, it's written so well that it settles me, i can relax and enjoy the story as it goes and not worry about idiotic characters causing unnecessary crap/drama where it isn't needed.
Oh, and i got this book in a giveaway and the review is part of the agreement but to be honest, this book needs more people to realise it's out there and need to read it, like, YESTERDAY! lol.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did :D
xxxx
March 11, 2019
Sometimes you just kind of hate to review a book - or at least I do - because you desperately WANT to give it more stars. Here’s the down side to the book: the writing is a bit juvenile, and if you’re not a Christian, the simplistic view of God and theology will make you a bit crazy. I cringe when Christians wring their hands wondering why God has abandoned them when genocides are still occurring, millions of malnourished babies are dying, and pedophiles exist. The author just can’t accept “randomness” and I want to tear my hair out because of that.
Here’s the good side: it’s a flat out gorgeous story. What this young woman went through is both heartbreaking and inspiring. Her involvement with the Somalian family is amazing and lovely and selfless and to my surprise, she isn’t evangelizing them (or at least she doesn’t admit it), but rather offers them genuine love and friendship, trying to learn about their culture and their lives. And she’s donating all proceeds from the book’s sale to the children’s education, which makes me want to buy some copies at a full-price bookstore. That demands a lot of respect from me.
The bottom line - I could get past her theology and rather simple writing. I finished the book. I admire the author and loved her story.
Here’s the good side: it’s a flat out gorgeous story. What this young woman went through is both heartbreaking and inspiring. Her involvement with the Somalian family is amazing and lovely and selfless and to my surprise, she isn’t evangelizing them (or at least she doesn’t admit it), but rather offers them genuine love and friendship, trying to learn about their culture and their lives. And she’s donating all proceeds from the book’s sale to the children’s education, which makes me want to buy some copies at a full-price bookstore. That demands a lot of respect from me.
The bottom line - I could get past her theology and rather simple writing. I finished the book. I admire the author and loved her story.
June 21, 2017
Many of the reviews complain that the story is too centered on the author herself, when it should have been more about the refugees she took under her wing.
I took it at a greater context, that there are invisibles everywhere, even the author, who as a single, young cancer survivor, didn't quite fit anywhere.
The story wasn't the most well written, but it was compelling, and it provided a small glimpse into the lives of refugees. A reminder that the struggles they face are far greater than language and culture.
I took it at a greater context, that there are invisibles everywhere, even the author, who as a single, young cancer survivor, didn't quite fit anywhere.
The story wasn't the most well written, but it was compelling, and it provided a small glimpse into the lives of refugees. A reminder that the struggles they face are far greater than language and culture.
March 19, 2017
a lot of mixed feelings about this.......
probably more like 3.5
it was a good story with a potential for a really good message but it was pretty fragmented and at times I wished there would have been more of the Somali girls
probably more like 3.5
it was a good story with a potential for a really good message but it was pretty fragmented and at times I wished there would have been more of the Somali girls
July 22, 2018
A beautiful and heartbreaking memoir that reads like a novel. I could not put it down. I grew to love the story and I’m inspired.
July 19, 2022
Mixed feelings here. There are 3 stories here, and they don’t mesh particularly well. I’m sure that this family “saved” Sarah at a very low time in her life. I kept thinking that there was more that she could have done to ensure they had ongoing, sustainable help, rather than what she did. The story of her breast cancer was gut wrenching, but her spiritual re- awakening felt a little…forced is not exactly the right word. A religion that left me at a crisis point in my life is not one that I would go back to. But not having been raised in that sort of faith, I guess I am on the outside. And there were parts of the story that were mentioned, but not expanded on (the loans on her credit rating? Why the mother stopped calling once they moved to Seattle?). These left me with more questions.
May 23, 2013
The book is poignent, funny, and heartbreaking, one of those page-turners that takes you through the emotional spectrum. Sarah weaves together two narratives: her story of being diagnosed at 27 with breast cancer and the treatment that followed, and her subsequent move from Connecticut to Oregon, where she befriended a family of Somali refugees. Over the course of several months, she formed a deep relationship with Hadhi and her five daughters, Fahri, Abdallah, Sadaka, Lelo, and Chaki. Sarah helped them adjust to life in America while, at the same time, they helped Sarah heal from the psychological and emotional wounds her cancer and fundamentalist Christian upbringing left behind.
One of my favorite vignettes in the book is situated in one of the most mundane tasks most Americans take for granted: adjusting the thermostat.
One of the markers of invisibility is the inability to fully participate in a system without outside help. For Hadhi and her family, this was manifest in simple things, like not knowing how to use a thermostat, and in more complex things, like trying to apply for government housing assistance while remaining hidden from an abusive ex-husband. Sarah stepped in from the outside and help make them visible.
Similarly, Sarah’s fundamentalist upbringing created a system in which she believed that her cancer was an expression of God’s anger toward her for something she must have done, though she couldn’t identify what that might be. She is painfully honest about the lack of support she received from her church, her fiancee, and her Christian friends. Sarah became invisible to the church and invisible to that God. It was Hadhi and her daughters who helped Sarah become visible again, but you’ll have to read the book to find out how.
One of my favorite vignettes in the book is situated in one of the most mundane tasks most Americans take for granted: adjusting the thermostat.
Why is it so cold in here? I wondered, realizing that I was still wearing my coat because I was cold, too. “Hadhi, your house is cold,” I said, pointing to Chaki and Lelo, whose teeth were chattering.
Hadhi looked at me helplessly, as if to say there was nothing she could do.
I looked around the living room. There was vent on the wall, but no thermostat or “on” switch. After looking around the apartment for a while, I found the thermostat in the hallway and turned it on. Warm air blew out of the vent in the living room, and the girls began running around the house screaming that I had set their house on fire.
“Everybody relax!” I said, laughing. “It’s not a fire; it’s heat.”
We sat around the vent that was blowing out warm air as though it were a roaring fire. As the girls warmed their firgid fingers and toes against the hot metal grate, I scolded myself. I’d been visiting the family a few times a week for the past month. How could I not have noticed until now they didn’t know how to turn on the heat?
One of the markers of invisibility is the inability to fully participate in a system without outside help. For Hadhi and her family, this was manifest in simple things, like not knowing how to use a thermostat, and in more complex things, like trying to apply for government housing assistance while remaining hidden from an abusive ex-husband. Sarah stepped in from the outside and help make them visible.
Similarly, Sarah’s fundamentalist upbringing created a system in which she believed that her cancer was an expression of God’s anger toward her for something she must have done, though she couldn’t identify what that might be. She is painfully honest about the lack of support she received from her church, her fiancee, and her Christian friends. Sarah became invisible to the church and invisible to that God. It was Hadhi and her daughters who helped Sarah become visible again, but you’ll have to read the book to find out how.
March 7, 2013
The Invisible Girls by Sarah Thebarge took my breath away. Sarah told of her life, her pain, and how a chance meeting of a destitute Somali mother and her five daughters, immigrants who helped to heal her soul, spirit and heart. This is a collage of her personal conflict, past and present, rooted in her strict and structured Christian background, her devastation over being diagnosed with breast cancer, having the surgery and treatment and coming to terms with her new body. What makes this book stand out is that throughout all of her problems, Sarah learned to reach out to others who are struggling in their own way. In taking on the problems of her 'new' family, it gave her a new perspective on faith, life and its trials, with hope for the future where perhaps no one will be invisible to the world anymore.
This ARC edition of The Invisible Girls was provided by NetGalley and FaithWords/Jericho Books in exchange for my honest review. Publication Date: April 16, 2013.
This ARC edition of The Invisible Girls was provided by NetGalley and FaithWords/Jericho Books in exchange for my honest review. Publication Date: April 16, 2013.
October 12, 2013
This memoir tells two parallel stories: one is the story of Sarah's battle with breast cancer in her 20s, the other takes place a few years later when she meets a Somali immigrant mother and her four daughters and becomes involved in their lives. Sarah was raised as a fundamentalist and, throughout her besieging by cancer at such a young age, she also struggles with questions of faith: why would a loving God let something so horrible happen to her? Both stories are very affecting and engrossing. Sarah seems like a caring, truly Christian woman who I think I would enjoy knowing. But the invisibility theme doesn't hang together very well, in my opinion. And she wasn't very coherent in describing what brought her back to faith.
August 30, 2016
Wonderful true story of a young breast cancer survivor who encounters a Somalian family living a below-poverty line existence, and then, together with the help of some friends, reaches out and helps them with some basic needs and forms a familial bond with these "invisible girls' and their mother. Thebarge's writing is beautiful and moving, even though she jumps back and forth in time in each chapter. Inspiring story of struggle, healing and love.
Highly recommend.
Highly recommend.
January 12, 2019
Insight into the experience of immigrants. Sarah Thebarge knows what it is like to be invisible after her early encounter with cancer and so she is quick to see the hurt of others. Overall, the memoir feels a bit indulgent as she makes it a story of her own heroism and victimhood. There isn't a lot of nuance here but it is a quick and interesting story.
January 3, 2015
The story of a girl who helps a desperate family, and in turn pulls herself out of desperation. I thoroughly enjoyed this story. It takes place in my home town, which of course adds interest. I easily recommend this book!
March 6, 2014
A very touching memoir. The author befriends a family from Somalia who just arrived in Portland, and finds that she needs them as much as they need her.
July 18, 2021
this is the first book that wrecked my heart to how crazy good God is. got a sweet spot in my heart for this one
January 15, 2020
Well, that was an unexpected treat. I borrowed this audiobook from the library because I am on long waiting lists for several other books I want to listen to, and this was available. I had never even heard of if before, but thought the synopsis sounded appealing.
I did not expect it to be so lovely. It is not the usual Western-person-helps-poor-person-and-gets-inspiration book. The author herself was so broken and hurting when she met the refugee girls. At first I was worried that it would be a narrative of a woman in her 20s getting cancer and feeling sorry for herself, but then realizing other people feel worse, so they don't feel so bad anymore. That always makes me uneasy. We shouldn't feel good just because other people feel worse than we do. But that wasn't it at all. The girls and Sarah were so very much the same, while outwardly seeming so different. They each filled a huge hole in the other's life.
If you feel uncomfortable with talk of G-d or religion, then this isn't the book for you. Although not the central theme of the book, Thebarge talks about these things often. She did not shy away from them, nor focus on them. The reader knows religion is a huge part of her life because she weaves her thoughts and actions related to faith so seamlessly into the story. Her faith is not saccharine. She does get angry, but mostly she is searching. I feel like there has to be some kind of higher force because what else would have pushed her to give her number to this family that was just passing by her on a train ride?
Although she obviously broke from the religion of her youth, which she found too harsh and rule-bound, this is not a tell-all about her fundamentalist religion. She is still on good terms with her family, and her parents were a great support during her cancer treatment. In the interview after the book, she says that her parents thoughts on faith and religion have evolved over the years, too.
The one thing that really saddened me was the lack of support from her church when she was sick. I was shocked that the people who signed up for the meal train didn't come through. If there is one thing fundamentalist churches are usually good at, it is bringing food in your hour of need! (Author is obviously not Catholic now, given her common misperception that the Immaculate Conception means that Jesus was born of a virgin, ha, ha.)
I wonder what happened to her fiance, and if she used a fake name for him in the book.
I will look for other books by the author.
I did not expect it to be so lovely. It is not the usual Western-person-helps-poor-person-and-gets-inspiration book. The author herself was so broken and hurting when she met the refugee girls. At first I was worried that it would be a narrative of a woman in her 20s getting cancer and feeling sorry for herself, but then realizing other people feel worse, so they don't feel so bad anymore. That always makes me uneasy. We shouldn't feel good just because other people feel worse than we do. But that wasn't it at all. The girls and Sarah were so very much the same, while outwardly seeming so different. They each filled a huge hole in the other's life.
If you feel uncomfortable with talk of G-d or religion, then this isn't the book for you. Although not the central theme of the book, Thebarge talks about these things often. She did not shy away from them, nor focus on them. The reader knows religion is a huge part of her life because she weaves her thoughts and actions related to faith so seamlessly into the story. Her faith is not saccharine. She does get angry, but mostly she is searching. I feel like there has to be some kind of higher force because what else would have pushed her to give her number to this family that was just passing by her on a train ride?
Although she obviously broke from the religion of her youth, which she found too harsh and rule-bound, this is not a tell-all about her fundamentalist religion. She is still on good terms with her family, and her parents were a great support during her cancer treatment. In the interview after the book, she says that her parents thoughts on faith and religion have evolved over the years, too.
The one thing that really saddened me was the lack of support from her church when she was sick. I was shocked that the people who signed up for the meal train didn't come through. If there is one thing fundamentalist churches are usually good at, it is bringing food in your hour of need! (Author is obviously not Catholic now, given her common misperception that the Immaculate Conception means that Jesus was born of a virgin, ha, ha.)
I wonder what happened to her fiance, and if she used a fake name for him in the book.
I will look for other books by the author.
August 24, 2019
A memoir written by Sarah Thebarge about her breast cancer at age 27 that leads to the loss of all her identity and dreams and her slow climb back to life. Sarah Thebarge was raised as a PK in a fundamental home with quite legalistic rules. When she is diagnosed with cancer, undergoes several surgeries and complications, loses her supposedly future husband, and her career comes to a screeching halt, she loses any trust in God. Sarah moves to Portland, Oregon where she meets a mother had her 5 children. They are immigrants from Somalia and are struggling to survive. Sarah befriends them and in doing so, she finds her way back to health and also her way back to God. This book gets either very low or very high reviews. I suspect it is because this book is written from the Christian perspective and most people seem to be quite intolerant of Christians talking about their perspective. Sarah's struggles with cancer, her deep depression, her anger, her questions of the God of her upbringing are all very real reactions. Writing this memoir would have been cathartic and healing. The finding her way back by forgetting her own misery and helping another person is a way to heal. In this book, Sarah shows through example how to see those who are invisible. The ones we all walk past without a second glance. While this is a book written by a Christian woman, it does not push God on anyone. It is only the story of the author's own search for meaning. Her friendship with the refugees was never about evangelism. She simply saw a need a found ways to meet those needs.
This book (audio, read by Kirsten Potter) was a free audio book from the AudioSync program in 2018.
This book (audio, read by Kirsten Potter) was a free audio book from the AudioSync program in 2018.
September 20, 2017
An authentic, well-told memoir about a Biola and Yale-trained PA who survived St3 cancer, dubbing herself an invisible girl, who then encounters more "invisible girls" ( female Somali refugees) on the MAX in Portland. Yes, ironically, this is the same pub transit lightrail whereby an attack on an ethnic by a Caucasian deranged man occurred this year.
In the midst of second Ivy League Education, she is dx with cancer. Redemptive and explores how humans can save humans, in love. The family saved her during a very vulnerable time, after a dashed dream of love. She saves the family in turn, in so many ways. Also realistically explores human foibles in the face of slogging through 18 months of a real cancer treatment saga. Author struggles and is vulnerable to the reader in her journey of pure determination and survival. Made known to me through Don Miller's latest work, I picked up her story, and simply stayed up and finished it!
Human, real. Honest struggles, epiphanies unpeeled, and admirable. Thebarge's fortitude and strength and loving heart. She, like Yancey, struggled with a fundamental, super conservative Christian background which she had to reconcile and through it, emerges as a heroine with an even deeper faith. Imago Dei featured in here!
Thoroughly enjoyed.
In the midst of second Ivy League Education, she is dx with cancer. Redemptive and explores how humans can save humans, in love. The family saved her during a very vulnerable time, after a dashed dream of love. She saves the family in turn, in so many ways. Also realistically explores human foibles in the face of slogging through 18 months of a real cancer treatment saga. Author struggles and is vulnerable to the reader in her journey of pure determination and survival. Made known to me through Don Miller's latest work, I picked up her story, and simply stayed up and finished it!
Human, real. Honest struggles, epiphanies unpeeled, and admirable. Thebarge's fortitude and strength and loving heart. She, like Yancey, struggled with a fundamental, super conservative Christian background which she had to reconcile and through it, emerges as a heroine with an even deeper faith. Imago Dei featured in here!
Thoroughly enjoyed.
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