Raucous family memoir meets medical adventure in this heartfelt, hilarious book exploring the public and private theaters of illness.
After a tumor bursts in Mike Scalise’s brain, leaving him with a hole in the head and malfunctioning hormones, he must navigate a new, alien world of illness maintenance. His mother, who has a chronic heart condition and a flair for drama, becomes a complicated model as she competes with him for the status of "best sick person." The Brand New Catastrophe is a moving, funny exploration of how we define ourselves by the stories we choose to tell.
Mike Scalise is the author of THE BRAND NEW CATASTROPHE (Sarabande Books, 2017), which received the 2014 Christopher Doheny Prize from the Center for Fiction. His work has appeared in publications like the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, the Paris Review, Agni, and a few others. Mike has received awards, fellowships, and scholarships from Yaddo, Bread Loaf, Ucross, and was the Philip Roth Writer In Residence at Bucknell University a while back.
I had the pleasure of reading an early copy of this book-- and it is somehow funny, heart-rending, and oh-so-true all at the same time. Scalise's memoir isn't just a story about a medical catastrophe, it's a story about how we make stories out of all our catastrophes, and how we understand the over-the-top things that happen to us. (Plus family. It's also about how we understand family.) How can a memoir about a brain tumor be funny? Honestly, I don't know how he did it-- but it IS funny, and somehow also teaches us about being human; living in our dangerously mortal bodies; and adapting to the way life changes our very ideas of who we are. Also, the sentences are stunningly intricate and wry and very, very smart.
Buy this book. You will have a damn good time reading it.
Funny book about a serious subject: a brain tumor ruptures a young man's pituitary gland which destroys his ability to make hormones and has many other effects on his body, his relationships with his girlfriend, his parents, and the ability to hold a job.
I was mostly interested in this book because he also has acromegaly, a disease that my father had. The author had a more severe case than my father, but it helped me understand what happened to my Dad, who never talked about his disease and I never knew why his body changed the way it did. So thanks to Mike Scalise for giving me insight on that.
I bought my copy of The Brand New Catastrophe after attending one of Mike Scalise’s readings (which I highly recommend; he’s very entertaining), which he subsequently signed. The inside cover now reads, “Hope you don’t hate this.” (We also had a very awkward conversation during the signing where I mentioned that I review books and I’m pretty sure he flinched at that statement, probably imagining me destroying his life’s work on my Internet blog.)
As it happens, I did not hate The Brand New Catastrophe—and I’m not just saying that because I exchanged two sentences with its author. But I very easily could have, because I generally dislike memoirs. I’m more drawn to fiction for its escapist nature, and sometimes memoirs have a really self-indulgent air that makes me think, “Yeah, well what makes your life so special that it’s worth me reading about it?” There are exceptions to this, of course, and Scalise’s is one of them. I think the main reason it works is because it steers clear of the expected self-pitying, self-righteous tropes a book like this could easily take on. It’s very dry and witty, almost too much so at times—the prologue is possibly the weakest part of the novel because in its authoritative “how not to tell a sob story” approach, it almost veers back into that self-indulgent “look at how all-knowing I am” attitude of your average memoir. But this attitude fades as the book progresses and, if we’re being completely fair, I suspect the main reason that I find this tone obnoxious is because it’s actually true. We all like to martyr ourselves and tell sob stories that make us out to be brave, or act like life-altering events were no big deal because then other people will see us as brave and experienced and above things like self-pity. It’s annoying, yes, but it’s something humans do—and Scalise acknowledges this hypocrisy (and even vain competitiveness) while making no excuse for it. And, thankfully, Scalise never employs that awful soap operatic trick that makes his illness out to be something that changed him for the better or taught him the meaning of life or whatever. He treats it for what it is: something that happened to him, that continues to play a huge part in his everyday life, and is frustrating and inconvenient but still an undeniable part of his existence.
The whole book is also peppered with entertaining anecdotes and tangents. Luckily, Scalise’s life is filled with people who are interesting for complete strangers to read about: his stories about his relationship with his father or his friend Jeff Stibner are particularly funny (the PowerPoint presentations from the father are so ludicrous that the fact that they aren’t fiction pretty much justifies this memoir’s existence in the first place), and his exploration of how his relationships with these people changed in the years after his diagnosis is compelling and thoughtful. It’s also rewarding to watch how Scalise progresses throughout the course of his novel, from a dry, quipping twenty-something to a more self-aware, less self-centered man fifteen years later; there’s one passage near the end of the novel talking about how he began to live his life in constant apprehension as a result of his disease and how he missed his recklessness as a high schooler, and it sounds cliched when I write it here but it’s actually one of the better passages I’ve read this year.
So, I guess to put it shortly: this is a very readable and amiable novel, pleasantly casual and clever without ever being pretentious. It muses about how illnesses and big (often bad) events in our lives shape us, and how we in turn choose to tell these stories. And, more to the point, how these stories can become the story of our lives, the one we always tell to others, and seem to sum up most of who we are (or at least for a certain amount of time, until that life event is later replaced by another life event). But the point of the book (I think) is to emphasize how we need to balance between embracing these catastrophes as parts of who we are while not making them the be-all end-all of our existence—and, while writing an entire memoir about this experience might make it seem like this is the be-all, end-all of Scalise’s existence, that wasn’t the impression I received as I moved through the book. I see The Brand New Catastrophe as less of a disease book and more of a story about navigating life and the trials of family and adulthood, with the diagnosis serving as a backdrop and framing device. But that’s my take on it—and whatever way you choose to view it, it’s a smart, thought-provoking read, crafted with a great amount of consideration and care.
Had to pick this up after seeing the author at a reading. This was such a good read! It has something for everyone: illness memoir, family stories, finding a job after college, existential crises, masculinity, long-term romance, aging friends, and love in many forms. I had fun reading this.
Also, I could totally geek out about the form of this. If memoir's goal is to, "read like fiction" nowadays, this is a well paced, visual tale that kept me as engaged as any piece of media can these days. The story is a meandering one as opposed to one written in a straight line, and it allowed me as a reader to adapt to different scenarios in a way the main character might have.
Teacher friends: if you're looking for a nonfiction book (or just accessible prose) for intro or advanced classes, there is a lot to talk about here.
Brilliant! Mike has been diagnosed with a rare brain tumor at age 24. This is a story of the emotional and physical trauma he endures, but more so, an insight into medical practice and its impact on the psychological well-being of patients. Every doctor should read this book. This book should be required reading for medical students. Doctors don't know what their patients endure, and what difference a caring attitude can make. It is funny, poignant, and remarkably honest.
This is more of a family drama and a coming of age story than an illness narrative in some ways - it was interesting at parts but I didn't connect with the author in ways I hoped I would. There were some sections I really enjoyed and could relate to, as I've been dealing with a brain tumor the last year. I had a very different experience with my timeline of treatment so reading his was fascinating (though it could have been shorter).
edited: upped from 3 stars to 4 stars after reading some terrible brain-tumor related YA books.
Strangely riveting, humorous, and often poignant memoir of the author's experience with a rare pituitary disorder called acromegaly. The details of how his illness affected his relationships with others--especially his mother, but also his wife, friends, and co-workers--made the book a more intimate and roundly satisfying read. Glad I read this one.
Working with PEN/Faulkner has introduced me at a lot of great books; it's especially enjoyable when I get to know the authors first. In person, I always appreciated Mike's intelligence and dry wit, both of which were evident in this book about his disease journey. (I just vomited a little, but that's the best phrasing I can muster now.) So much of the book resonated with me as a person with a chronic illness. Mike, I applaud your candor. And, lord help me, you've inspired me to take a stab at telling my own tale.
Four and a half stars. (Goodreads! Give me some half stars to work with!)
I'm not sure whether I would like Mike Scalise in real life. I know I would've found his 20-something self obnoxious, a "class clown" type who tries to frame his illness narrative for the entertainment value. (In his defense, though, his story is genuinely amusing in parts! Dr. Sunshine, indeed.) But he, like his illness, comes to some equilibrium as the book progresses--his condition becomes less acute, as does his drive to "perform" its story for others.
But throughout, he tries to make meaning from his decade-long condition, and in a fresh way. There is no talk of "overcoming" his condition, no assurances that it's "made him a better person", like so many disease memoirs and blogs do. He's not out to demonstrate that it's possible to live well with this particular thing wrong with you. His condition just is, and it's something he has 1) had to learn to live with, and 2) had to learn to interpret, both to himself and to others. The recounting and interpreting is often a delight to read, because of phrases like, "...whose face now was a dubbed-tape version of the one she fell in love with..." So, I often enjoyed his company on paper, anyway. :)
An amazing memoir- the voice of the narrator is extremely compelling. I found myself laughing and questioning societal norms all at the same time. A little disconcerting...in the good way. 10/10 will definitely read again (probs this summer) and recommend to all readers of good books.
Always interesting when an awesomely good writer is able to describe a medical condition in a way that helps you really understand what it feels like to have it.
It was okay. Just based off the description I was expecting a lot more. I thought it would be funnier I guess. It wasn’t terrible. I was just expecting more. The only reason I finished it so quickly was so that I can move on to the next book )and because I was at home with the flu and needed to do something). I’m not a huge fan of reading multiple books at once unless I have to.
Funny and full of heart. I heard the author interviewed on James Scott's TK Podcast and picked up a copy at the AWP bookfair. Scalise's memoir of a pituitary tumor and its rupture kept me pinned to the coach most of all of this beautiful Sunday.
I adored this book; galoopy, bright, funny, dear, scary situation; a celebration of quirkiness; buoyant pathos, a favorite phrase of mine, because that's how a friend described my writing. Superbly done; kudos to the author; may he always be safe and happy, family too
Mike's writing has always been a marvel to me RE: the play between humor and wickedly smart, unpretentious insight. This passage crushed me:
"I wondered if he was thinking what I was, even as I was ashamed to be thinking it. I wondered if he was considering, as I now did, that perhaps he and my mother's true apex of aptitude was merely to have dreams, but not to live them."
Not quite as amusing as he thinks he is. But the really interesting stuff is his parents and his grandfather; I found myself repeatedly saying "What is /wrong/ with these people?" - they are an exceedingly dysfunctional family. One keeps waiting for someone to have a burst of self-awareness or some insight, but this isn't that kind of cheery story.
“Telling a good catastrophe anecdote,” says Mike Scalise, “means becoming a maestro of sympathy.” Not only does Scalise mine his brain tumor story for sympathy points, he breaks it down with hilarious aplomb in his memoir, The Brand New Catastrophe. Scalise’s book covers the months just after he finds out he has acromegaly, a rare condition caused by a tumor on his pituitary gland. The treatment leaves him hormone-less, and struggling to find the energy for tasks that most people do with ease. In life, Scalise bends the tumor story to alter or create his sense of self as he sees fit. What ends up happening is that he discovers he has a talent for narrative. Scalise’s book, then, is his effort to pick apart — dissect, to use a relevant metaphor — why his disaster and illness stories work and how he has successfully crafted them. Sound a little macabre? Scalise realizes that, but he’s all in with gallows humor. He artfully balances coruscating wit with gritty realism about his disease. Read more at Electric Literature.
From review published at Electric Literature February 13, 2017.
It's really a 3.5 more than a 4, but I'm rounding up because he manages to make a really readable book out of what could otherwise have become just a disease memoir...and, despite the impact his condition has had on his life, it's not even that compelling of a disease, given that it's been mostly controlled for more than a decade. He has a lot of interesting points to make, but I will say that in some cases I'm not really sure he makes them. In particular, the parallels and conflict with his mother...I didn't really get it. I feel like he was implying more than I was infer from his narrative. And the various points didn't really weave together; they just sort of crossed over, and we went with them, but they tended to leave me feeling a bit distanced from the whole thing. But he was honest and relatable and likable and I learned a few things, so I'm definitely not complaining. Much.
I felt some pressure to love this as I was encouraged to read it by a friend of the author. It was fine. There are some funny parts-TGIPF, the interaction with Lucille, brewing decaf... The behaviors of Mike's mother were painfully relatable though not to my own mother, but a close relative I deal with often. I'm certainly not mad I read it but for me, it could've been about 100 pages shorter as I had to force the finish after about 170-ish.
Full disclosure: I used to work with the author (but not at any of the places mentioned in the book). That fact doesn’t affect my rating of the book: It’s just the reason I heard of it. I read this book in the midst of a family catastrophe, and man, it is resonating, as well as insightful, funny, and very human.
Mike Scalise is a fun and likable writer which makes following his horrendous story of an early brain tumor palatable. The beginning engaged me the most but I stuck with this out of pure curiosity. Sometimes, my interest waned. I waffled between a 3 and 4 rating but he seems like such a great guy!
3.5 stars This took me awhile to finish. It was well-written, but felt long. I wish there had been some pictures included...although it seems the author is extremely self-conscious. Interesting to learn about a condition I knew nothing about.