I came across this book because the writer has Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) (aka CFS), an illness that I also have (and am homebound b/c of). I don't remember the details of how I came across the book, only that when I saw it existed--a graphic memoir by someone with ME with content about living with ME--I was really looking forward to reading it. (I tend to really enjoy graphic memoirs).
But I hadn't read anything by Knight before and no idea what to expect.
Once I picked "The Facts" up, I couldn't put it down. It's such a quietly absorbing and compelling book. A memoir about what it is like growing up as an afab person, constantly being barraged with all of these messages basically saying your worth lies in care taking others and in your future as wife and mother. I'm a trans guy, but I was "socialized as female" as some word it, and so I am familiar with these messages, but I have also been living as a queer person for nearly thirty years and one wonderful thing about being a queer trans person is that I have managed to get away from a lot of the social pressures that people often experience in more heteronormative communities.
It is hard to imagine the pain of being an adult and constantly being told your life isn't meaningful and will never be meaningful until you have children. And that you haven't fulfilled your duty as a human until you've had children. (Kind of a continual stream of comments from other people along those lines.) And then to either choose to not have children, or, to be unable to have children...
One thing I did notice while reading this is that there seems to be quite a bit of similarity in the way people treat you when you have a chronic illness like ME and when you are an adult cis woman who does not have kids. People are dismissive, intrusive, decide it is their business to "fix" your situation (regardless of whether it's a situation that they know very little about), people suddenly think they are experts on your life (and know more about your life than you do), and they also suddenly become medical experts (just without the actual expertise).
Anyway, this is a beautiful book. I love the art, the pacing, the honesty, the reflection, the celebration. Life is painful, and life with chronic illness can be deeply challenging (to put it mildly), and Knight acknowledges the struggles but also shows her search to find and celebrate meaning and joy and love in the life that she has (rather than focusing all of her time and spoons mourning the life that she doesn't have.)
Here is a GR Review by Sally Whitehead that I enjoyed:
It's quite difficult to put into words the impact a book like this can have.
For many who are "childless by circumstance" the process of 'acceptance' is indeed "a small quiet room" (thank you, Cheryl Strayed) and one which is revisited often in order to re-evaluate the complexities and paradoxes thrown up in one's life as a result of such circumstances.
Paula Knight "goes there", and she goes there with brutal honesty, warmth, humour, deep-rooted poignancy, and for many readers I'm sure, with painfully reassuring familiarity.
Some have criticised the ending of this memoir for reading too much like a "manifesto". But, to those for whom the social "otherness" alluded to is indeed a "fact of life", there IS a sense of needing to habitually assert your okay-ness in a world of norms which are often alienating and (albeit unintentionally) non-inclusive.
A powerful, compelling and important book. (less)