No One Tells You by Carlo Gébler gobsmacked me; I can’t get it out of my head. I expect it will live with me for years to come. Gébler is the elder of Irish writer Edna O'Brien's two sons, an accomplished author in his own right and a lifelong daily journal keeper. In this memoir—with quoted contemporaneous journal entries serving as his foundation—Gébler relates how his mother's health deteriorated over her last several years—from the early days of COVID until her death in July 2024—and how her stubborn determination to continue working sustained her. Early on, Gébler draws an analogy between opening a set of nested, ever-smaller Russian matryoshka dolls and O'Brien's visible diminishment as she inched toward death. That process is honestly and heartbreakingly illustrated with a year-by-year retelling of his communications and visits with his mother. Finally, Gébler relates his own reluctant recognition that we children too are mortal, are next in line at the cliff of extinction. For me, it all landed uncomfortably close to home. It is all too painfully true, and rarely shared. It is stunningly beautiful.
[While Goodreads says this book won't be published until late November 2026, as of late September 2026, it was widely available in Irish bookstores. That's when and where I purchased my copy.]