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My Year Of Living Vulnerably
From Rick Morton, the author of the bestselling, critically acclaimed memoir One Hundred Years of Dirt comes a dazzlingly brilliant book about love, trauma and recovery, My Year of Living Vulnerably.
In early 2019, Rick Morton, author of acclaimed, bestselling memoir One Hundred Years of Dirt, was diagnosed with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - which, as he says, is just a fancy way of saying that one of the people who should have loved him the most during childhood didn't.
So, over the course of twelve months, he went on a journey to rediscover love. To get better. Not cured, not fixed. Just, better. This is a book about his journey to betterness, his year of living vulnerably. It's a book about love. What love is, how we see it, what forms it takes, how we practice it in our lives, what it means to us, and how we really, really can't live without it, even if, like Rick for many years, we think we can.
As he says: 'People think they want cars, and they will, to get to jobs and appointments in cities and regions where public transport has failed them. But what gets them into those cars, out of the house, out of bed for God's sake, is love.'
Praise for A Hundred Years of Dirt
'Morton is fresh ... He's brilliant.' Helen Elliott, The Monthly
'Dark and provocative ... It's one of the saddest books I have read in a while, and one of the most honest .... I think this book should be read by every Australian.' Stephen Romei, The Australian
'Morton is a crack storyteller and his words and stories are infused with genuine compassion.' Christos Tsiolkas
In early 2019, Rick Morton, author of acclaimed, bestselling memoir One Hundred Years of Dirt, was diagnosed with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - which, as he says, is just a fancy way of saying that one of the people who should have loved him the most during childhood didn't.
So, over the course of twelve months, he went on a journey to rediscover love. To get better. Not cured, not fixed. Just, better. This is a book about his journey to betterness, his year of living vulnerably. It's a book about love. What love is, how we see it, what forms it takes, how we practice it in our lives, what it means to us, and how we really, really can't live without it, even if, like Rick for many years, we think we can.
As he says: 'People think they want cars, and they will, to get to jobs and appointments in cities and regions where public transport has failed them. But what gets them into those cars, out of the house, out of bed for God's sake, is love.'
Praise for A Hundred Years of Dirt
'Morton is fresh ... He's brilliant.' Helen Elliott, The Monthly
'Dark and provocative ... It's one of the saddest books I have read in a while, and one of the most honest .... I think this book should be read by every Australian.' Stephen Romei, The Australian
'Morton is a crack storyteller and his words and stories are infused with genuine compassion.' Christos Tsiolkas
320 pages, Paperback
Published March 17, 2021
161 people are currently reading
1466 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 165 reviews
June 28, 2021
5★
“Happiness as a goal is a rort. If you don’t believe me, stare into the eyes of one of those wellness influencers and see if the experience doesn’t immediately give you a panic attack.”
I haven’t read Aussie writer Rick Morton's first book yet, One Hundred Years of Dirt, a memoir about his childhood, which was the stuff of nightmares. Those nightmares have carried over into adulthood, but somehow, some way, he has managed to become – or seems to have become – a fully-functioning journalist and author. [I just read it - see below!]
His writing style is varied, sometimes conversational, with self-deprecating humour, and other times it’s deeply philosophical, with historical and literary references.
“On the outside at least, I appear to be an extremely well put together human being. This is a well-crafted ruse. It’s as if I was built by an apprentice in God’s workshop who was very good at sewing on the outfits but forgot to tend to the inside. On the inside, it’s a mess in there. I imagine my innards resemble a dropped tart. Perhaps you can see what they used to be, though dessert has been cancelled all the same.”
When he was finally diagnosed with complex PTSD, from his early trauma, a lot of things made sense. Until then (and possibly even now), people offered their own advice.
“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to slug someone who says my at times crippling anxiety and suicidal ideation exist because I’m thinking about it all wrong. You know, just, kind of, think nicer?”
I can’t say being diagnosed made him feel any better, but it did send him down the fascinating brain research rabbit hole to find some answers. One of the therapies was flooding his brain with positivity. He was wired up and then watched a screen where pictures gradually appeared of cute animals, beautiful landscapes, and the like.
“It is as if all the motivational posters from the internet decided to hold a convention, at which I was the sole guest in attendance. They were beautiful and funny and I watched them slowly appear over half an hour, while the sensors on my earlobes and scalp sent signals back to the therapist’s computer.
. . .
‘The picture-story mode of presentation favored by the unconscious has the appeal of its simple utility. A picture can be recalled in its entirety whereas an essay cannot,’ McCarthy says.” (author Cormac McCarthy)
McCarthy has an interest in language and likens it to a virus that has infected our brains. But that’s a whole nuther rabbit hole!
The structure of the book is divided into chapters on topics which necessarily cross over into each other’s territory, since it’s hard to speak of one without including some of the others.
Touch - The Self – Forgiveness – Animals – Beauty – Masculinity – Loneliness – Kindness – Dysfunction – Doubt – Next – Beginnings
He returns frequently to the little boy he once was who was so traumatised that he grew up to be a wounded man. He learned about his condition from a reading at a writers’ festival by poet and writer Dr. Meera Atkinson from her book Traumata.
Wow! This is a revelation. He knows about his anxiety and depression and memories, but this is different.
“Atkinson’s simple explanation of trauma as something that lives – it is not merely remembered, it is reanimated – described what had been happening to me for years now.
. . .
A world of bones can live in that sense of isolation, can make themselves at home in your desolation. And they rattle and rattle for the rest of your days. Sometimes they clatter so hard they knock you right out of yourself. Dissociation, doctors call it. A phrase I had not yet come across and yet had lived.”
As a journalist and traveller, he would have a hard time avoiding possible triggers.
“In my reporting job, covering social affairs from all corners, I traverse the full range of human suffering. Addiction, mental illness, entrenched intergenerational poverty, the trauma of institutions on the old and disabled. Grief. Injustice. Homelessness. The staggering hurt of hope offered and snatched away.
. . .
Trace the lines back far enough and you will find someone who should have loved them and couldn’t, which begat the perpetuation of neglect and emotional abuse down the generations. Go back far enough in any direction and the evidence is knotted together through family breakdown, abandonment and the stories of a thousand people who all wanted to be loved in one thousand specific ways, but who never were.”
Given his personal background, it must be an extra challenge to cover these stories, but he is passionate and committed and continues to champion their causes. He discusses the medical material, the psychological discoveries, the theories, the experiments and philosophy.
At the end of the book, there is an extensive list of sources relevant to each of the twelve topics. They include references to fiction, research, music, films, news articles, and whatever other media I've overlooked.
There is so much to think about that I read it in stages, letting it soak in before going further. This is current and includes the Covid 19 Pandemic and the effects of lockdowns on people who are already traumatised.
He set himself a broad task of trying to understand aand explain the connections between love and the brain and trauma, and I think he has done a mighty job of it. It’s not finished – his task, I mean – but the structure he’s established lends itself to adding thoughts and information in the form of further essays or books, which I hope he does.
- - - -
I've just read his previous book, a memoir, One Hundred Years of Dirt and reviewed it.
Link to my review of One Hundred Years of Dirt
“Happiness as a goal is a rort. If you don’t believe me, stare into the eyes of one of those wellness influencers and see if the experience doesn’t immediately give you a panic attack.”
I haven’t read Aussie writer Rick Morton's first book yet, One Hundred Years of Dirt, a memoir about his childhood, which was the stuff of nightmares. Those nightmares have carried over into adulthood, but somehow, some way, he has managed to become – or seems to have become – a fully-functioning journalist and author. [I just read it - see below!]
His writing style is varied, sometimes conversational, with self-deprecating humour, and other times it’s deeply philosophical, with historical and literary references.
“On the outside at least, I appear to be an extremely well put together human being. This is a well-crafted ruse. It’s as if I was built by an apprentice in God’s workshop who was very good at sewing on the outfits but forgot to tend to the inside. On the inside, it’s a mess in there. I imagine my innards resemble a dropped tart. Perhaps you can see what they used to be, though dessert has been cancelled all the same.”
When he was finally diagnosed with complex PTSD, from his early trauma, a lot of things made sense. Until then (and possibly even now), people offered their own advice.
“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to slug someone who says my at times crippling anxiety and suicidal ideation exist because I’m thinking about it all wrong. You know, just, kind of, think nicer?”
I can’t say being diagnosed made him feel any better, but it did send him down the fascinating brain research rabbit hole to find some answers. One of the therapies was flooding his brain with positivity. He was wired up and then watched a screen where pictures gradually appeared of cute animals, beautiful landscapes, and the like.
“It is as if all the motivational posters from the internet decided to hold a convention, at which I was the sole guest in attendance. They were beautiful and funny and I watched them slowly appear over half an hour, while the sensors on my earlobes and scalp sent signals back to the therapist’s computer.
. . .
‘The picture-story mode of presentation favored by the unconscious has the appeal of its simple utility. A picture can be recalled in its entirety whereas an essay cannot,’ McCarthy says.” (author Cormac McCarthy)
McCarthy has an interest in language and likens it to a virus that has infected our brains. But that’s a whole nuther rabbit hole!
The structure of the book is divided into chapters on topics which necessarily cross over into each other’s territory, since it’s hard to speak of one without including some of the others.
Touch - The Self – Forgiveness – Animals – Beauty – Masculinity – Loneliness – Kindness – Dysfunction – Doubt – Next – Beginnings
He returns frequently to the little boy he once was who was so traumatised that he grew up to be a wounded man. He learned about his condition from a reading at a writers’ festival by poet and writer Dr. Meera Atkinson from her book Traumata.
“‘My body is at the ready for flight. I can’t switch my nervous system off. It scans and calculates tirelessly, antennae out for threats,’ Atkinson read aloud. ‘The body remembers.’”
Wow! This is a revelation. He knows about his anxiety and depression and memories, but this is different.
“Atkinson’s simple explanation of trauma as something that lives – it is not merely remembered, it is reanimated – described what had been happening to me for years now.
. . .
A world of bones can live in that sense of isolation, can make themselves at home in your desolation. And they rattle and rattle for the rest of your days. Sometimes they clatter so hard they knock you right out of yourself. Dissociation, doctors call it. A phrase I had not yet come across and yet had lived.”
As a journalist and traveller, he would have a hard time avoiding possible triggers.
“In my reporting job, covering social affairs from all corners, I traverse the full range of human suffering. Addiction, mental illness, entrenched intergenerational poverty, the trauma of institutions on the old and disabled. Grief. Injustice. Homelessness. The staggering hurt of hope offered and snatched away.
. . .
Trace the lines back far enough and you will find someone who should have loved them and couldn’t, which begat the perpetuation of neglect and emotional abuse down the generations. Go back far enough in any direction and the evidence is knotted together through family breakdown, abandonment and the stories of a thousand people who all wanted to be loved in one thousand specific ways, but who never were.”
Given his personal background, it must be an extra challenge to cover these stories, but he is passionate and committed and continues to champion their causes. He discusses the medical material, the psychological discoveries, the theories, the experiments and philosophy.
At the end of the book, there is an extensive list of sources relevant to each of the twelve topics. They include references to fiction, research, music, films, news articles, and whatever other media I've overlooked.
There is so much to think about that I read it in stages, letting it soak in before going further. This is current and includes the Covid 19 Pandemic and the effects of lockdowns on people who are already traumatised.
He set himself a broad task of trying to understand aand explain the connections between love and the brain and trauma, and I think he has done a mighty job of it. It’s not finished – his task, I mean – but the structure he’s established lends itself to adding thoughts and information in the form of further essays or books, which I hope he does.
- - - -
I've just read his previous book, a memoir, One Hundred Years of Dirt and reviewed it.
Link to my review of One Hundred Years of Dirt
April 19, 2021
I somehow assumed that this book was going to be about living vulnerably in the economic sense. My bad! I could have read the blurb, but even that is somewhat misleading.
Morton is a thirty-four-year-old journalist. He grew up on a remote farm. His father was in many ways the stereotypical farmer - grunty, action-oriented and lacking an emotional IQ. Not the best father for anyone, no especially for a sensitive boy like Morton, who happens to be gay.
In 2019, he was diagnosed with Complex PTSD, as he puts it - "it's a fancy way of saying that someone who should have loved me didn't", in his case his father. Morton goes on a journey of self-discovery, of learning about trauma and how to get better, how to move on.
On this journey, he veers on many paths - some more or less related to the main issue.
I was impressed with the smooth transitions between so many things from trauma, therapy, toxic masculinity, loneliness, sexuality, education, climate change, religion, science, even the pandemic.
If you expect/demand a linear, black and white, has-all-the-answers kind of book, this probably won't be up your alley.
Morton is a good writer, possessing a great deal of self-awareness and the ability to stay curious and ponder life's bigger and smaller aspects.
Morton is a thirty-four-year-old journalist. He grew up on a remote farm. His father was in many ways the stereotypical farmer - grunty, action-oriented and lacking an emotional IQ. Not the best father for anyone, no especially for a sensitive boy like Morton, who happens to be gay.
In 2019, he was diagnosed with Complex PTSD, as he puts it - "it's a fancy way of saying that someone who should have loved me didn't", in his case his father. Morton goes on a journey of self-discovery, of learning about trauma and how to get better, how to move on.
On this journey, he veers on many paths - some more or less related to the main issue.
I was impressed with the smooth transitions between so many things from trauma, therapy, toxic masculinity, loneliness, sexuality, education, climate change, religion, science, even the pandemic.
If you expect/demand a linear, black and white, has-all-the-answers kind of book, this probably won't be up your alley.
Morton is a good writer, possessing a great deal of self-awareness and the ability to stay curious and ponder life's bigger and smaller aspects.
December 17, 2021
A complex, beautifully written portrait of trauma. Rick takes us on an incredible journey as he is diagnosed with complex PTSD and works not to be cured, but to be better. The honesty is breathtaking at times and we are lucky to have this book from a “national treasure”.
Read
August 24, 2022My words seem wildly inadequate to discuss Morton’s words. I would much rather quote his words but don’t want to diminish their effect when you read them in full glorious context. This book of trauma, love, grace and ideas has torn me asunder. With his signature humour Morton writes of his diagnosis with complex post-traumatic stress disorder in the most raw, revealing and honest ways possible. It truly feels like he has held nothing back and it’s a rare privilege to bear witness. Morton’s insatiable curiosity is evident on every page as is his empathy with all who suffer in large ways and small. He is a mighty fine writer and I’m prepared to write a 10,000 word think piece about his use of similes. Books like this are rare and deserve to be treasured.
March 21, 2021
Rick is a skilled writer and this book has a journalistic essence about it. I found I wanted more.. I really wanted to delve into a more personal side of Rick and feel his vulnerability within himself more than the social commentary.
April 4, 2021
I was drawn to this book for two reasons: (a) my current interest in the neuroscience of trauma (specifically, for me, understanding the role of the brain and nervous system in relation to chronic pain), and (b) I love listening to Morton speak, and through his writing comes his voice and down to earth sense of humour.
This “messy, living document” - Morton’s description not mine - does more than offer insight into another’s experience of trauma (and the unconscious operations of the brain), it explores topics of the self, animals, beauty, masculinity and more. I wasn’t expecting to be tangled in the arms of an octopus, chasing chickens, or listening to Itzhak Perlman play the violin (yes, I googled this), but Morton manages to thread all of the unexpected back to the subject of recovery and love.
I love the references to my favourite poet, David Whyte. Beauty is my favourite chapter, and the chapter on forgiveness allowed me to see that the right thing to do is forgive that younger self and move on. “He is tired, can’t you see that? He fought so hard. We survived, because of him. He can enjoy his valour from the bleachers, free from pain.” (p287)
“It is enough, I think, to know that we are not the sole authors of our lives.” (p43)
“I might never understand the meaning of my own life, but there is beauty in the effort.” (p137)
I will forgive the editing error on page 22…OOPS! Not sure how that one was missed.
This “messy, living document” - Morton’s description not mine - does more than offer insight into another’s experience of trauma (and the unconscious operations of the brain), it explores topics of the self, animals, beauty, masculinity and more. I wasn’t expecting to be tangled in the arms of an octopus, chasing chickens, or listening to Itzhak Perlman play the violin (yes, I googled this), but Morton manages to thread all of the unexpected back to the subject of recovery and love.
I love the references to my favourite poet, David Whyte. Beauty is my favourite chapter, and the chapter on forgiveness allowed me to see that the right thing to do is forgive that younger self and move on. “He is tired, can’t you see that? He fought so hard. We survived, because of him. He can enjoy his valour from the bleachers, free from pain.” (p287)
“It is enough, I think, to know that we are not the sole authors of our lives.” (p43)
“I might never understand the meaning of my own life, but there is beauty in the effort.” (p137)
I will forgive the editing error on page 22…OOPS! Not sure how that one was missed.
April 28, 2021
4.5 Stars.
Definitely one of the most important books I've read this year. This is so genuine, heartfelt and pivotal. I'm so glad I put aside the time to get through this and take it all in.
Definitely one of the most important books I've read this year. This is so genuine, heartfelt and pivotal. I'm so glad I put aside the time to get through this and take it all in.
June 4, 2021
Really, I read this book in the lead up to hearing the author speak over the Easter long weekend - with the final chapter s to go.
*Hangs head*
Usually, I enjoy reading, but I honestly think this one works best as an audio book read by the author. I adore Rick Morton, and could ‘hear’ his voice while I was reading this.
This is a roller coaster of a read, with moments of genuine insight and grace. Dark moments are what this book is about (keep the tissues handy), but overall a memoir of a gifted mind and heart.
*Hangs head*
Usually, I enjoy reading, but I honestly think this one works best as an audio book read by the author. I adore Rick Morton, and could ‘hear’ his voice while I was reading this.
This is a roller coaster of a read, with moments of genuine insight and grace. Dark moments are what this book is about (keep the tissues handy), but overall a memoir of a gifted mind and heart.
August 29, 2021
I’m finding it difficult to rate this book because there were some chapters I LOVED and some that were so difficult to get through. I think I wanted it to have more personal reflection & stories than it did. A lot of it was social commentary, which was interesting but not what I was expecting.
April 26, 2021
A beautifully written look into the author’s year focusing on recovery after a diagnosis of complex PTSD. Chapters focus on topics such as touch, forgiveness, masculinity, and loneliness (among others) and are told with raw honesty and a touch of humour.
March 27, 2022
We are all of us pockmarked by the scars of things that should have been otherwise, the way the moon bears the craters of collisions in space that it could do nothing to avoid. We exist on a continuum of people ranging from those who got the best at the most appropriate time to those who got little or nothing and never when they needed it the most.
I have two young sons, one is 3 years old, one is 5 years old. I love them both dearly. The 5-year old is in preprimary school, in a relatively rich neighbourhood. His classmates are unusually kind. He has a friend, his best friend in the world, and they have a love for each other that I do not remember from my own childhood. Almost every day they gift each other paintings. When my son is sick for a day I get a message from his friend's mother asking when my son comes back, her son is worried. Most days, my son's friend waits outside the school for my son to arrive, or vice-versa.
It saddens me greatly that in all likelihood, this will not last. The world's meanness will come in. Mostly in the form of others' ideas of what a boy, or what a man, should be. The first boy who mocks my son and his friend will mock from a place of his own hurt.
It took me more than ten years to look at my own preconceptions, find where they held me back, and try and start change within myself. Much has changed out there, I hope that others will walk a shorter path.
I find parts of myself in this book.
I do wish I could grab some of these more severe men and make them understand what I have had to discover by cutting away the confected, infected, parts of myself.
Morton writes about the trauma, the PTSD he has inherited from a broken home. You may have read his autobiography One Hundred Years of Dirt, on growing up in that home in rural Queensland as a gay boy. My Year Of Living Vulnerably is a follow-up in themes, on Morton trying to get past the trauma and open himself up to the world.
He's a journalist by trade so some of the chapters become less autobiographical, more non-fiction investigations into the research and sociology of aspects of trauma. In other chapters he digs deep into himself (some trigger-warnings are needed - sexual violence).
Look, I'll be honest with you. Maybe I am writing this book for myself. It's a message in a bottle written during stolen glimpses of clarity to a man who, I know from experience, is prone to crab-walking away from relevation.
I am happy that such books are being written, are being published, and are being read. It makes me hopeful that my sons may have the opportunity to live a fulfilling life.
April 22, 2021
This is one audiobook I did not want to come to an end.
Listening to Rick describe love, relationships and vulnerability certainly took me on some guided journeys.
I learnt loads of interesting facts , laughed at common aussie predicaments and had tears in my eyes a few times.
I love listening to Rick talk about his Mum , Deb.
A very special relationship they obviously share.
Also I am not a hugger but I love the way Rick says cuddle !
5 out of 5 stars.
I bought the book but couldn't bear to crack the beautiful spine so I chose the audio version and am so glad I did.
Listening to Rick describe love, relationships and vulnerability certainly took me on some guided journeys.
I learnt loads of interesting facts , laughed at common aussie predicaments and had tears in my eyes a few times.
I love listening to Rick talk about his Mum , Deb.
A very special relationship they obviously share.
Also I am not a hugger but I love the way Rick says cuddle !
5 out of 5 stars.
I bought the book but couldn't bear to crack the beautiful spine so I chose the audio version and am so glad I did.
June 5, 2021
Much preferred Morton’s first book “One hundred Years of Dirt” but this book carries on his personal account of a tough life as he recants his story of a year recovering from PTSD. Morton is very in touch with his emotions and thoughts and has a great gift in being able to write about them for us to share. He writes with a sense of humour despite obviously being someone who despairs. His chapters on touch and kindness were beautiful and rewarding however I felt like a lot of the book was a bit rambling and meandering.
April 15, 2021
An absolutely outstanding book. Rick’s ability to weave research with personal experience is so flawless. His language is earth shatteringly good and he makes you stop to laugh while listening. Strongly recommend audiobook
July 7, 2021
Although I found this a bit heavy going at the beginning I ended up enjoying this tremendously. I like how the book was written in themes (as opposed to months) and particularly enjoyed: animals, masculinity, and loneliness.
Read
April 10, 2021DNF.
Read
May 14, 2021Thanks to Netgalley for a copy of this book for an honest review.
I'm afraid this was a DNF for me...not sure if it's the timing not being right but I just couldn't do it.
I'm afraid this was a DNF for me...not sure if it's the timing not being right but I just couldn't do it.
August 4, 2021
This was probably a 3.5 book for me. I liked 100 years of Dirt but I found this book was a bit all over the place. Some good points were made so I think it would be good so some.
February 23, 2023
A fascinating book that I thought was going to be very much about RM’s introspection on love and finding it. I read about cephalopods, Japanese society, philosophy, psychology, gamergate and much more.
Beautiful written and nourishing food for thought.
I need to go back and read 100 Years of Dirt now.
Beautiful written and nourishing food for thought.
I need to go back and read 100 Years of Dirt now.
October 24, 2021
Really quite a beautiful and heroic read. True to title, Morton makes himself very vulnerable but doesn’t descend to navel-gazing - a memoir that expertly wends its way to a conclusion that love and healing (if that is possible) cannot eventuate without making oneself vulnerable.
January 12, 2024
This book is a collection of personal essays. I wouldn't really call it memoir either - although most incorporate reflections from Morton's life, they are more generally musings and sharing of his personal philosophy. Many had interesting moments, but they tended to feel overlong. Some great turns of phrase and a distinct (and pleasant) narrative voice, but it also felt a lot of the time like things I have read before (Masculinity is confining! Emotions are good! Be nice!). I did finish it, but with a sigh of relief that we were done. I think it would have been better with less content and generally tighter editing of the stories so they end before you want them to.
October 11, 2021
Thank you, Rick, for this beautiful, heartfelt memoir with thorough research and wonderful meanderings. Hard reading at some points, but so glad I put it down and picked up when I was ready. This is a worthy addition to the world. I learned much and felt even more. Thank you.
May 19, 2021
This was the sort of book you had to stop regulalry and think about the ideas expressed. I feel I might go back and read chapters again soon. It was a great read.
April 4, 2021
Rick Morton’s 'My Year of Living Vulnerably' is not the book I expected. Used to being lulled by the linear narratives of fiction, I was expecting a similar story-like memoir.
Instead, Morton’s ‘My Year…’ is part memoir, part treatise; a gathering of biographical experiences, research and Morton’s own thoughts spiralling around a series of quite disparate chapter headings, such as Touch, The Self, Animals…
Beginning with more personal chapters outlining his condition and the childhood environment that led to his sickness, Morton, who suffers from complex PTSD, talks about lack of touch as “…a kind of death, a deletion of the soul…” (p.39) Yet, despite it all, he is determined to live, his search for beauty and connection a driving force in his life and work.
Eclectic in scope and excellently researched though his writing is, it took me several chapters to reorient myself to Morton’s thought process and writing style.
But I persisted and, almost halfway through ‘My year…’, in the midst of the chapter entitled ‘Beauty’, Morton caught me by surprise with his unravelling of ‘appoggiatura’. I was moved to tears and we forged an unbreakable connection.
“Beauty’s task,” Morton asserts, “is to make us look for it.” (p.153)
Just as Morton describes, I had been asked to look for beauty in his work and, once found, it became apparent everywhere.
“Beauty’s gift is that we may spend a lifetime within a single moment,” Morton says, (p.156) going on in a later chapter to describe the kindness of a man offering a single rose to a woman undergoing an abortion, playing the piano as the procedure took place.
Beauty, kindness, farewells… Morton moved closer to my own open wound as I acknowledged my need to say goodbye to a family member, still unburied, who had passed away during Covid.
“Farewells are sometimes the way we get better,” Morton says, acknowledging the need to cut loose our inner child.
Morton concludes his work with a great quote from Camus’ ‘Nuptials’ about the human condition, that despite all there is this:
“I love this life with abandon…this sun, this sea, my heart leaping with youth, the salt taste of my body and this vast landscape in which the tenderness and glory merge in blue and yellow.”
Though as ‘orphans’ we are never young, through vulnerability we can move past the pain and hurt to “…learn patiently and arduously how to live…” (p.295)
It's our best living that we need to find, love and beauty that we must seek to discover in the moment.
While 'My year of Living Vulnerably' may not have been the book I expected, in many ways it was the book I needed. I finished the journey far richer for it, the reward being the pearls discovered along the way.
NOTE: Thanks to Harper Collins for the reading copy.
Instead, Morton’s ‘My Year…’ is part memoir, part treatise; a gathering of biographical experiences, research and Morton’s own thoughts spiralling around a series of quite disparate chapter headings, such as Touch, The Self, Animals…
Beginning with more personal chapters outlining his condition and the childhood environment that led to his sickness, Morton, who suffers from complex PTSD, talks about lack of touch as “…a kind of death, a deletion of the soul…” (p.39) Yet, despite it all, he is determined to live, his search for beauty and connection a driving force in his life and work.
Eclectic in scope and excellently researched though his writing is, it took me several chapters to reorient myself to Morton’s thought process and writing style.
But I persisted and, almost halfway through ‘My year…’, in the midst of the chapter entitled ‘Beauty’, Morton caught me by surprise with his unravelling of ‘appoggiatura’. I was moved to tears and we forged an unbreakable connection.
“Beauty’s task,” Morton asserts, “is to make us look for it.” (p.153)
Just as Morton describes, I had been asked to look for beauty in his work and, once found, it became apparent everywhere.
“Beauty’s gift is that we may spend a lifetime within a single moment,” Morton says, (p.156) going on in a later chapter to describe the kindness of a man offering a single rose to a woman undergoing an abortion, playing the piano as the procedure took place.
Beauty, kindness, farewells… Morton moved closer to my own open wound as I acknowledged my need to say goodbye to a family member, still unburied, who had passed away during Covid.
“Farewells are sometimes the way we get better,” Morton says, acknowledging the need to cut loose our inner child.
Morton concludes his work with a great quote from Camus’ ‘Nuptials’ about the human condition, that despite all there is this:
“I love this life with abandon…this sun, this sea, my heart leaping with youth, the salt taste of my body and this vast landscape in which the tenderness and glory merge in blue and yellow.”
Though as ‘orphans’ we are never young, through vulnerability we can move past the pain and hurt to “…learn patiently and arduously how to live…” (p.295)
It's our best living that we need to find, love and beauty that we must seek to discover in the moment.
While 'My year of Living Vulnerably' may not have been the book I expected, in many ways it was the book I needed. I finished the journey far richer for it, the reward being the pearls discovered along the way.
NOTE: Thanks to Harper Collins for the reading copy.
September 28, 2022
People who are familiar with this writer seem to relate to and value the book - I wasn't so found the writing style disjointed, didn't find what was described on the cover, and wasn't interested in reading about his self therapy. A DNF for me.
January 2, 2023
You know when you are really tired, but just so into a book you can’t stop reading even though it is 11’o’clock at night and you have to be up early tomorrow for work?
And you are starting to nod off, you shake yourself awake, read a sentence, realise you’ve taken none of it in so read it again?
Yep. So I did that with large chunks of this book. Except I wasn’t immersed. I was bored.
At one stage I just skimmed an entire chapter.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The topics covered are so important. Mental wellness, self care and love, intense loving male friendships, homosexuality, abuse, trauma. We need to have a dialogue about all of these issues. They need to be discussed.
Normalising therapy and seeking help when it all just gets too much should be encouraged.
The way these things were all covered makes this book an important piece of writing.
However. There was a lot of waffle. At times it was a real slog.
I appreciate the research and work that has gone into writing this book, but it just did not flow.
And you are starting to nod off, you shake yourself awake, read a sentence, realise you’ve taken none of it in so read it again?
Yep. So I did that with large chunks of this book. Except I wasn’t immersed. I was bored.
At one stage I just skimmed an entire chapter.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The topics covered are so important. Mental wellness, self care and love, intense loving male friendships, homosexuality, abuse, trauma. We need to have a dialogue about all of these issues. They need to be discussed.
Normalising therapy and seeking help when it all just gets too much should be encouraged.
The way these things were all covered makes this book an important piece of writing.
However. There was a lot of waffle. At times it was a real slog.
I appreciate the research and work that has gone into writing this book, but it just did not flow.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 14, 2022
Read for book club. This book had some very interesting aspects and some very unfortunate ones. It felt like an extremely self-involved book with repeated references to the author's other incredibly popular book. Chapters were tenuously linked and the authors words rambled and circled. It was like being stuck at a party, trapped in the corner with a person who will not.stop.talking. At times the conversation is interesting and participatory but at other times you find yourself edging away, looking around and trying to find an excuse to go elsewhere. I was relieved when it ended. I remember some interesting highlights but the overall feeling of wanting to be elsewhere.
December 21, 2021
I felt a little confused and annoyed at times… I really enjoyed the personal story and insights at the beginning but then it went on to talks about a bunch of other stuff - octopuses for example…
It felt like this was a super long personal essay or feature article where the author had to add a bunch of extra research and quotes to meet the word count.
I did not finish… which is something new I’m trying out instead of forcing myself to read things that are jarring or difficult for me to get through.
It felt like this was a super long personal essay or feature article where the author had to add a bunch of extra research and quotes to meet the word count.
I did not finish… which is something new I’m trying out instead of forcing myself to read things that are jarring or difficult for me to get through.
March 18, 2021
Beautiful man, beautiful book.
May 5, 2021
I Much preferred 100 Years of Dirt. I felt Morton was “a straight up waffler” to steal an expression from my 14 year old, in this book.
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