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Where You End and I Begin
A daughter’s remarkable and unflinching exploration of the unconventionally intimate relationship she shared with her mother—a brilliant and charismatic woman haunted by past trauma. When her daughter is eight, Leah McLaren’s mother abruptly fled her life as rural house wife in search a glamorous career in the city. In the chaotic years that follow, Cecily lurches from one apartment, job and toxic romance to the next. In a home without rules or emotional boundaries, Leah and Cecily become confidants—a state of enmeshment that suits them both. Their bond is loving but also marked by casual indifference. Cecily’s self-described parenting style of “benign neglect” is a hilarious party joke, but for her daughter it’s reality. In Leah’s first year of high school, Cecily makes a disclosure that will forever alter their From 12 to 15, Cecily confides, she was the lover of her 45-year-old married pony club instructor. The trauma of the “Horseman,” she explains, is the reason for all her ill-conceived life choices, including marriage and motherhood itself which she now bitterly regrets. For years after, into adulthood, Leah is haunted by the specter of the Horseman. He is the nameless darkness she observes in Cecily and worse yet, recognizes in herself. Eventually she sets out to discover truth of what became of her mother’s rapist. Leah believes she will find solace in the facts, but first she must grasp a deeper That this story—her story—is not the Horseman’s after all. A riveting and devastating portrait of mother and daughter, Where You End and I Begin explores the way intergenerational trauma is shared between women and how acts of harm can be confused with acts of love.
256 pages, Hardcover
Published July 26, 2022
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July 28, 2022I will not read this book because it shares the story of sexual grooming and assault of a child without permission. Leah McLaren calls it a shared narrative but it is literally not her story to tell.
I suggest people read the essay by Cecily Ross in the Literary Review of Canada.
I support the survivor not the story teller.
https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
I suggest people read the essay by Cecily Ross in the Literary Review of Canada.
I support the survivor not the story teller.
https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
December 7, 2022
didn't actually read and don't plan to. just here to help tank reviews.
If you have read or are considering reading this, read this first, from the victim who was sexually assaulted by McLaren as a child:
https://twitter.com/zoegreenberg/stat...
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
If you have read or are considering reading this, read this first, from the victim who was sexually assaulted by McLaren as a child:
https://twitter.com/zoegreenberg/stat...
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
December 7, 2022
This author sexually assaulted her friend and described it in this memoir as if it was a consensual threesome. That's fucking reprehensible.
https://www.opindia.com/2022/12/canad...
https://www.opindia.com/2022/12/canad...
August 8, 2022
This review contains spoilers.
“It’s hard to love a mother whose bottomless desire for connection is delineated by an abject fear of being needed.”
—Leah McLaren
“I have never been very good at this mothering thing which requires a degree of selflessness that simply has never been in me. The truth is that I am not the sort of person who should have had children.”
—Cecily Ross
Back in the day when print newspapers were still a thing, I used to spend part of each weekend reading my way through the once thick Saturday Globe and Mail. I regularly read Leah McLaren’s column, which regaled readers with the observations and experiences of an upwardly mobile young single woman. McLaren occasionally got herself into trouble with her confessions. One sometimes wondered why she disclosed the things she did. Did she not know that she was giving out too much information? Did she not care? Or was there perhaps an inordinate need for attention? She drew flak from many quarters, even when she wasn’t indiscrete. Some of the attacks were vicious. She was a woman some apparently loved to hate.
At some point McLaren moved to London, married, and had children. I believe she still writes for some Canadian papers and magazines, but I’ve not really followed her career since I stopped reading The Globe. Since Canada’s population is small and the celebrity pool tiny, however, you really don’t have to make much effort to get wind of someone’s upcoming book or an event, and McLaren, it could be argued, is a minor celebrity here.
Now, for reasons I don’t fully understand, she’s written a memoir that focuses on her relationship with her mother, Cecily Ross, who is herself a writer. A few years ago, Ross wrote an absorbing and well executed novel about English-born Susanna Moodie, an early Canadian female literary figure (who was also the focus of an early collection of poems by Margaret Atwood). Ross is clearly a creative but difficult woman, who has evidently had her struggles with turbulent emotions. Had she been of a later generation, it’s likely that the childhood trauma she experienced —the “central defining event” of her life (but not the only cause of her troubles)—would’ve been handled in a very different way by her parents. Possibly, too, she would have felt freer not to go down the domestic road—marriage and children—at all. Some people should not become parents. Unfortunately, they usually aren’t wise enough to know this in time.
As it turned out, the main event in Cecily Ross’s life and her emotional turmoil impacted a lot of other people, as her daughter’s memoir shows. I went into this book entirely cold, knowing none of the details. Even so, I was less surprised than I expected to be by McLaren’s revelations about her upbringing in general or her mother in particular. Where families are concerned, I think messiness and dysfunction are the norm, rather than the exception, but obviously, there are degrees of dysfunction. The family described in this memoir certainly isn’t the craziest one I’ve read about.
McLaren writes that her mother’s childhood trauma cast a shadow over the family she created with Jim McLaren, whom she met in high school and wed soon after. It’s hard to disagree. To cut to the chase: in the summer of 1964 when Cecily Ross was 12, she was raped by her 45-year-old instructor at the Caledon Riding Club. “The Horseman” was a married man with four children, two of whom were older than Cecily. He was, McLaren acerbically writes, “a man who broke horses and girls, taking his pleasure where he could.” Regarding his attentions as evidence of his devotion, Cecily continued to meet with this predator—even after her father had caught the two together in a cottage on the family farm, sent the man and his family packing, and grounded his daughter for three weeks. The Horseman would collect her after school in his pick-up truck and take her to the woods. She believed she was in love with him. This went on until she was fifteen, at which point she angrily broke things off. She’d discovered she was not the only one.
According to McLaren, Cecily’s experience was an open secret in the Ross family, a story Cecily herself told “in countless iterations and contexts, to therapists and husbands, friends, lovers, family, including me. She’d written a thinly veiled novel based on the story, which she despaired of getting published. Later . . . [she] publish[ed] the story in a magazine.” McLaren acknowledges that the pedophile’s physical violation of her mother was “not nearly as complicated or lasting as what he did to her mind, which was, perhaps, to create a kind of confusion, a set of limitations, when it came to her ability to love or be loved.” The author also admits (in what I took to be a tone of barely controlled fury) that the story of the abuse was used by her mother to explain and excuse “all the circumstances of my childhood.”
McLaren documents those circumstances in her book, focusing primarily on her experiences after her parents’ divorce, when she was eight and her sister, Meg, was six. The girls lived mostly with their father (and, for a time, with his pathologically rule-oriented girlfriend as well). They occasionally stayed with their mother, who’d become a reporter for a local newspaper. Some might describe Cecily’s parenting (or lack of it) as benign neglect. It’s true that the micromanagement of children’s lives, helicopter parenting, can be harmful, and a hands-off approach is sometimes beneficial . . . but neglect? Can it really ever be benign? According to McLaren, she not infrequently was left to look after her little sister, even when Meg was ill. There’s also a disturbing story of Cecily’s maltreatment of a family pet, which I found distressing and enraging to read. Later, at the age of thirteen, Leah would move to Toronto where her mother had relocated. By the age of fourteen, she was living an unsupervised, “feral” life; she could be out all night, even when a serial rapist—the depraved Paul Bernardo—was on the loose, and her mother would think nothing of it. There were few rules and even fewer personal boundaries (hence the title of the memoir). Anything could be discussed, including the details of Cecily’s multiple “disastrous affairs.” Leah was confidante and comforter. Theirs was more a sibling than a parent-child relationship. Psychologists would identify it as a classic example of “enmeshment” a.k.a. “emotional incest.” In fact, a fellow student at the arts high school McLaren attended introduced her to the term, and she subsequently looked it up in the school library:
emotional or covert incest. Def: A type of emotional abuse. It occurs when a parent consistently violates the normal boundaries between themselves and child. Sometimes called “enmeshment.” In an emotionally incestuous relationship, a caregiver depends on the child for support. This reverses the norms of parenthood and means that the child has to prioritize the needs of the adult.
The memoir sometimes shifts forward from childhood and youth to 2020 when the author travelled from London to New York for a “girls’ weekend” with her mother. This was when the matter of the memoir was broached with Cecily and McLaren announced that she had a book deal.
It is not entirely clear to me why Ms. McLaren wrote the book. Possibly, it’s because she has always written about herself and considers Cecily a part of that package. Her mother claims in her 2020 Literary Review essay that Leah saw the story as “great material” and “even as a chance for us to connect.” A friend of mine has opined Leah wrote it for the money. Whatever the reason(s), it is evident from reading it, that the violation of the body and psyche of a child casts a long shadow. The psychological harms end up impacting all those close to the victim, including her children.
This memoir has understandably created controversy. Was it right to air the story of a family in this way? It’s hard for me to imagine being a person who’d want to publicly share material of this kind. I don’t believe McLaren actually does “appropriate” her mother’s story—Cecily Ross had already told it in 2020 in the Literary Review of Canada, after all—nor does she provide graphic details or sensationalize it in any way. What McLaren does do is give an account of what it was like to be Ross’s child—along with some of her characteristic oversharing. (I could have done without the details of the author’s sexual history. Some things never change.) Would it have been wiser for McLaren to wait until after her mother’s death for this painful and brutally honest book to go out into the world? Probably. However flawed Cecily Ross may be, I tend to believe that her daughter’s publishing the memoir while Ross is alive is unkind. But if the book were withheld until after her mother’s death, the audience the author possibly most wanted to reach would be gone.
Rating: 3.5
“It’s hard to love a mother whose bottomless desire for connection is delineated by an abject fear of being needed.”
—Leah McLaren
“I have never been very good at this mothering thing which requires a degree of selflessness that simply has never been in me. The truth is that I am not the sort of person who should have had children.”
—Cecily Ross
Back in the day when print newspapers were still a thing, I used to spend part of each weekend reading my way through the once thick Saturday Globe and Mail. I regularly read Leah McLaren’s column, which regaled readers with the observations and experiences of an upwardly mobile young single woman. McLaren occasionally got herself into trouble with her confessions. One sometimes wondered why she disclosed the things she did. Did she not know that she was giving out too much information? Did she not care? Or was there perhaps an inordinate need for attention? She drew flak from many quarters, even when she wasn’t indiscrete. Some of the attacks were vicious. She was a woman some apparently loved to hate.
At some point McLaren moved to London, married, and had children. I believe she still writes for some Canadian papers and magazines, but I’ve not really followed her career since I stopped reading The Globe. Since Canada’s population is small and the celebrity pool tiny, however, you really don’t have to make much effort to get wind of someone’s upcoming book or an event, and McLaren, it could be argued, is a minor celebrity here.
Now, for reasons I don’t fully understand, she’s written a memoir that focuses on her relationship with her mother, Cecily Ross, who is herself a writer. A few years ago, Ross wrote an absorbing and well executed novel about English-born Susanna Moodie, an early Canadian female literary figure (who was also the focus of an early collection of poems by Margaret Atwood). Ross is clearly a creative but difficult woman, who has evidently had her struggles with turbulent emotions. Had she been of a later generation, it’s likely that the childhood trauma she experienced —the “central defining event” of her life (but not the only cause of her troubles)—would’ve been handled in a very different way by her parents. Possibly, too, she would have felt freer not to go down the domestic road—marriage and children—at all. Some people should not become parents. Unfortunately, they usually aren’t wise enough to know this in time.
As it turned out, the main event in Cecily Ross’s life and her emotional turmoil impacted a lot of other people, as her daughter’s memoir shows. I went into this book entirely cold, knowing none of the details. Even so, I was less surprised than I expected to be by McLaren’s revelations about her upbringing in general or her mother in particular. Where families are concerned, I think messiness and dysfunction are the norm, rather than the exception, but obviously, there are degrees of dysfunction. The family described in this memoir certainly isn’t the craziest one I’ve read about.
McLaren writes that her mother’s childhood trauma cast a shadow over the family she created with Jim McLaren, whom she met in high school and wed soon after. It’s hard to disagree. To cut to the chase: in the summer of 1964 when Cecily Ross was 12, she was raped by her 45-year-old instructor at the Caledon Riding Club. “The Horseman” was a married man with four children, two of whom were older than Cecily. He was, McLaren acerbically writes, “a man who broke horses and girls, taking his pleasure where he could.” Regarding his attentions as evidence of his devotion, Cecily continued to meet with this predator—even after her father had caught the two together in a cottage on the family farm, sent the man and his family packing, and grounded his daughter for three weeks. The Horseman would collect her after school in his pick-up truck and take her to the woods. She believed she was in love with him. This went on until she was fifteen, at which point she angrily broke things off. She’d discovered she was not the only one.
According to McLaren, Cecily’s experience was an open secret in the Ross family, a story Cecily herself told “in countless iterations and contexts, to therapists and husbands, friends, lovers, family, including me. She’d written a thinly veiled novel based on the story, which she despaired of getting published. Later . . . [she] publish[ed] the story in a magazine.” McLaren acknowledges that the pedophile’s physical violation of her mother was “not nearly as complicated or lasting as what he did to her mind, which was, perhaps, to create a kind of confusion, a set of limitations, when it came to her ability to love or be loved.” The author also admits (in what I took to be a tone of barely controlled fury) that the story of the abuse was used by her mother to explain and excuse “all the circumstances of my childhood.”
McLaren documents those circumstances in her book, focusing primarily on her experiences after her parents’ divorce, when she was eight and her sister, Meg, was six. The girls lived mostly with their father (and, for a time, with his pathologically rule-oriented girlfriend as well). They occasionally stayed with their mother, who’d become a reporter for a local newspaper. Some might describe Cecily’s parenting (or lack of it) as benign neglect. It’s true that the micromanagement of children’s lives, helicopter parenting, can be harmful, and a hands-off approach is sometimes beneficial . . . but neglect? Can it really ever be benign? According to McLaren, she not infrequently was left to look after her little sister, even when Meg was ill. There’s also a disturbing story of Cecily’s maltreatment of a family pet, which I found distressing and enraging to read. Later, at the age of thirteen, Leah would move to Toronto where her mother had relocated. By the age of fourteen, she was living an unsupervised, “feral” life; she could be out all night, even when a serial rapist—the depraved Paul Bernardo—was on the loose, and her mother would think nothing of it. There were few rules and even fewer personal boundaries (hence the title of the memoir). Anything could be discussed, including the details of Cecily’s multiple “disastrous affairs.” Leah was confidante and comforter. Theirs was more a sibling than a parent-child relationship. Psychologists would identify it as a classic example of “enmeshment” a.k.a. “emotional incest.” In fact, a fellow student at the arts high school McLaren attended introduced her to the term, and she subsequently looked it up in the school library:
emotional or covert incest. Def: A type of emotional abuse. It occurs when a parent consistently violates the normal boundaries between themselves and child. Sometimes called “enmeshment.” In an emotionally incestuous relationship, a caregiver depends on the child for support. This reverses the norms of parenthood and means that the child has to prioritize the needs of the adult.
The memoir sometimes shifts forward from childhood and youth to 2020 when the author travelled from London to New York for a “girls’ weekend” with her mother. This was when the matter of the memoir was broached with Cecily and McLaren announced that she had a book deal.
It is not entirely clear to me why Ms. McLaren wrote the book. Possibly, it’s because she has always written about herself and considers Cecily a part of that package. Her mother claims in her 2020 Literary Review essay that Leah saw the story as “great material” and “even as a chance for us to connect.” A friend of mine has opined Leah wrote it for the money. Whatever the reason(s), it is evident from reading it, that the violation of the body and psyche of a child casts a long shadow. The psychological harms end up impacting all those close to the victim, including her children.
This memoir has understandably created controversy. Was it right to air the story of a family in this way? It’s hard for me to imagine being a person who’d want to publicly share material of this kind. I don’t believe McLaren actually does “appropriate” her mother’s story—Cecily Ross had already told it in 2020 in the Literary Review of Canada, after all—nor does she provide graphic details or sensationalize it in any way. What McLaren does do is give an account of what it was like to be Ross’s child—along with some of her characteristic oversharing. (I could have done without the details of the author’s sexual history. Some things never change.) Would it have been wiser for McLaren to wait until after her mother’s death for this painful and brutally honest book to go out into the world? Probably. However flawed Cecily Ross may be, I tend to believe that her daughter’s publishing the memoir while Ross is alive is unkind. But if the book were withheld until after her mother’s death, the audience the author possibly most wanted to reach would be gone.
Rating: 3.5
August 3, 2022
Hello Goodreaders,
Leah McLaren the author here.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing this book.
I'm sorry to say that one of the reviewers below (MK Lynde) has failed to disclose a personal connection -- she is a close friend of my mother, who has made no secret about her anger over the book. Our relationship is a complicated and troubled one (if you want to know why, I encourage you to read the memoir) but for the purposes of this forum I wanted to flag that MK's response is not an objective critical response to my work (which I welcome and encourage) but a personal attack motivated by bias. Note that she freely admits that she has not bothered to read the book.
Had MK read it, she would have known that I deal point by point with the very issues she raises and in fact I have endeavoured to do so with sensitivity and great care. In the memoir I mention the essay she links to -- published over 18 months ago -- and I quote from it directly. The book is intended (and has been received) as a nuanced look at a complicated mother-daughter relationship. It's heartbreaking to me that it should be misinterpreted in this way, but such is life. I just want other readers to understand the background before forming critical opinions themselves.
For more recent and relevant context, both on the book and how it came to be please read the following piece of analysis published just yesterday in the Toronto Star.
https://www.thestar.com/amp/politics/...
For an objective critical take see The Guardian review below.
https://amp.theguardian.com/books/202...
I have known MK Lynde for years. I know her to be a decent person but I wish she had read my book before levying judgement and she has no been transparent in failing to disclosure her personal connection to the work. This lack of transparency and due diligence is a violation of Goodreads standards. If this bothers you as a user of the site I urge you to report her review to the administrator.
Goodreads is an extraordinary community which exists for readers who wish to share and discuss literature on its own merits. Personal grudges should not be styled as objective critical takes. To do so is, in my view, an insult to the spirit of this forum.
I hope anyone reading this will take the time to read my book and make your own decision. I look forward to reading your reviews (positive, negative or luke warm as the case may be!) and I will will be checking in and engaging regularly to address any queries or concerns. This is a great community and resource and appreciate your time and attention.
Yours sincerely,
Leah
Leah McLaren the author here.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing this book.
I'm sorry to say that one of the reviewers below (MK Lynde) has failed to disclose a personal connection -- she is a close friend of my mother, who has made no secret about her anger over the book. Our relationship is a complicated and troubled one (if you want to know why, I encourage you to read the memoir) but for the purposes of this forum I wanted to flag that MK's response is not an objective critical response to my work (which I welcome and encourage) but a personal attack motivated by bias. Note that she freely admits that she has not bothered to read the book.
Had MK read it, she would have known that I deal point by point with the very issues she raises and in fact I have endeavoured to do so with sensitivity and great care. In the memoir I mention the essay she links to -- published over 18 months ago -- and I quote from it directly. The book is intended (and has been received) as a nuanced look at a complicated mother-daughter relationship. It's heartbreaking to me that it should be misinterpreted in this way, but such is life. I just want other readers to understand the background before forming critical opinions themselves.
For more recent and relevant context, both on the book and how it came to be please read the following piece of analysis published just yesterday in the Toronto Star.
https://www.thestar.com/amp/politics/...
For an objective critical take see The Guardian review below.
https://amp.theguardian.com/books/202...
I have known MK Lynde for years. I know her to be a decent person but I wish she had read my book before levying judgement and she has no been transparent in failing to disclosure her personal connection to the work. This lack of transparency and due diligence is a violation of Goodreads standards. If this bothers you as a user of the site I urge you to report her review to the administrator.
Goodreads is an extraordinary community which exists for readers who wish to share and discuss literature on its own merits. Personal grudges should not be styled as objective critical takes. To do so is, in my view, an insult to the spirit of this forum.
I hope anyone reading this will take the time to read my book and make your own decision. I look forward to reading your reviews (positive, negative or luke warm as the case may be!) and I will will be checking in and engaging regularly to address any queries or concerns. This is a great community and resource and appreciate your time and attention.
Yours sincerely,
Leah
December 9, 2022
EDITED DECEMBER 9, '22:
Every person who gave this book a positive review needs to reconsider their praise. Leah is despicable and this book should be removed from all current shelves. Public Random House and Leah need to be held accountable for her disgusting behaviour.
At best, this book allows the reader to consider the impacts of intergenerational trauma. However, in what Leah describes as ‘benign neglect’ she faces none of the additional barriers surrounding intergenerational trauma. Add being poor, or Black, or an immigrant, or English as a second language, or disabled, or if the cycle of sexual abuse was continued, or or or. Leah is from a relatively privileged and unscathed background, growing up as a middle-class white woman, attending drama schools and having a highly nepotistic connection to the world of journalism. If intergenerational trauma is a topic that you (the reader) would like to explore deeper, I encourage you to read works written by Black, Indigenous and other authors of diverse backgrounds.
At worst, this book exposes the story of sexual assault without the consent of the survivor. As we move into an age of openness surrounding sexual assault conversations, there must be a deeper discussion about who’s story it is to tell. This is clearly a moral dilemma that the author has been facing, which is why she viciously defends her decision to publicly out her mother. The way she described her mother’s rape as a ‘clandestine relationship’ effectively places blame on the victim and insinuates a consensual dynamic. Not only does the author discuss her mother’s sexual assault without permission, she does so in a way that victim blames, shames, and redirects the effects of the abuse to claim her own suffering from the situation.
Additionally, context surrounding Leah’s perceived neglect is important to understand. Leah is likely a latchkey kid – a generational phenomenon characterized by lack of parental oversight and attentiveness. The latchkey generation has been described as “a group of people whose personal identity was in part shaped by the independence of being left alone after school”. As Leah has recounted, the 'abandonment' from her mother began at 8 years old. For the time period, this was not an isolated situation nor a unique upbringing. I will recognize that attachment issues formed in childhood can be devastating, however Leah’s story adds little value to the discussions of intergenerational trauma and sexual assault. This book has only been given a platform due to existing connections within the industry and the way in which she is using this platform is more sensational than it is critical.
Every person who gave this book a positive review needs to reconsider their praise. Leah is despicable and this book should be removed from all current shelves. Public Random House and Leah need to be held accountable for her disgusting behaviour.
At best, this book allows the reader to consider the impacts of intergenerational trauma. However, in what Leah describes as ‘benign neglect’ she faces none of the additional barriers surrounding intergenerational trauma. Add being poor, or Black, or an immigrant, or English as a second language, or disabled, or if the cycle of sexual abuse was continued, or or or. Leah is from a relatively privileged and unscathed background, growing up as a middle-class white woman, attending drama schools and having a highly nepotistic connection to the world of journalism. If intergenerational trauma is a topic that you (the reader) would like to explore deeper, I encourage you to read works written by Black, Indigenous and other authors of diverse backgrounds.
At worst, this book exposes the story of sexual assault without the consent of the survivor. As we move into an age of openness surrounding sexual assault conversations, there must be a deeper discussion about who’s story it is to tell. This is clearly a moral dilemma that the author has been facing, which is why she viciously defends her decision to publicly out her mother. The way she described her mother’s rape as a ‘clandestine relationship’ effectively places blame on the victim and insinuates a consensual dynamic. Not only does the author discuss her mother’s sexual assault without permission, she does so in a way that victim blames, shames, and redirects the effects of the abuse to claim her own suffering from the situation.
Additionally, context surrounding Leah’s perceived neglect is important to understand. Leah is likely a latchkey kid – a generational phenomenon characterized by lack of parental oversight and attentiveness. The latchkey generation has been described as “a group of people whose personal identity was in part shaped by the independence of being left alone after school”. As Leah has recounted, the 'abandonment' from her mother began at 8 years old. For the time period, this was not an isolated situation nor a unique upbringing. I will recognize that attachment issues formed in childhood can be devastating, however Leah’s story adds little value to the discussions of intergenerational trauma and sexual assault. This book has only been given a platform due to existing connections within the industry and the way in which she is using this platform is more sensational than it is critical.
Read
August 15, 2022DNF 35%
I didn't find the story compelling enough to keep reading. I also questioned whether McLaren could have told this story without sharing the details of her mother's trauma and I think she could have. In fact there is evidence she pressured her mother to give consent "she's given her blessing, she can't take it back." Is that how McLaren thinks consent works? The question is whether it would have sold as many books without the disclosure.
There were just too many things that rubbed me the wrong way: she uncritically refers to the coronavirus as "the Chinese flu" and to her mother's rapist as her "lover." She talks about being poor but also about going to horse riding summer camps. Lastly, whatever recording device was used was too sensitive and picked up all the moist sounds of McLaren's mouth as she spoke. I found it quite awful to listen to.
I didn't find the story compelling enough to keep reading. I also questioned whether McLaren could have told this story without sharing the details of her mother's trauma and I think she could have. In fact there is evidence she pressured her mother to give consent "she's given her blessing, she can't take it back." Is that how McLaren thinks consent works? The question is whether it would have sold as many books without the disclosure.
There were just too many things that rubbed me the wrong way: she uncritically refers to the coronavirus as "the Chinese flu" and to her mother's rapist as her "lover." She talks about being poor but also about going to horse riding summer camps. Lastly, whatever recording device was used was too sensitive and picked up all the moist sounds of McLaren's mouth as she spoke. I found it quite awful to listen to.
December 8, 2022
It is horrifying that the author sexually assaulted another young woman and paints it as consensual in this book. Readers, see Zoe Greenberg's article for the true story. The author seems to be exploiting the pain she caused another for personal gain.
December 9, 2022
Leah McLaren has only ever been particularly relevant as a journalist people love to hate. I have never thought she merited much intensity of feeling at all--her writing is too mediocre and unmemorable. I did consider getting this book out of the library because the sometimes toxic mother/daughter relationship is a subject of interest to me. I'm so glad I didn't read this book after learning of McLaren's writing about her participation in a sexual assault of her friend--a trauma only compounded by McLaren's insistence on writing inaccurately against the wishes of this friend. In her essay on Medium, Zoe Greenberg exposes McLaren's callous, devious, self-serving behaviour around both the assault itself and her writing about it.
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
Penguin Random House also has to answer for their egregious response to this situation.
Leah McLaren has now issued a response to Zoe Greenberg's allegations, and it's as self-serving and dishonest as you would expect. I was particularly struck by this sentence: "I did not, as an adolescent child, assault my older 16-year-old best friend at a pool party." Oh. Okay. So "adolescent children" can't sexually assault other adolescents? Is that true for males as well, Leah? Oh, and she was "older." I guess that also means you must be innocent. I wouldn't expect Leah McLaren to show much insight into herself, but wow, that statement was horrendous and really shows how self-serving and manipulative McLaren is.
I'm seeing in other reviews now that she has also written about her mother's story of sexual assault without her consent. https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
This book should never have been published, but judging from the other reviews here pre-dating these allegations, it wasn't even worth publication on its own questionable literary merits anyway.
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
Penguin Random House also has to answer for their egregious response to this situation.
Leah McLaren has now issued a response to Zoe Greenberg's allegations, and it's as self-serving and dishonest as you would expect. I was particularly struck by this sentence: "I did not, as an adolescent child, assault my older 16-year-old best friend at a pool party." Oh. Okay. So "adolescent children" can't sexually assault other adolescents? Is that true for males as well, Leah? Oh, and she was "older." I guess that also means you must be innocent. I wouldn't expect Leah McLaren to show much insight into herself, but wow, that statement was horrendous and really shows how self-serving and manipulative McLaren is.
I'm seeing in other reviews now that she has also written about her mother's story of sexual assault without her consent. https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
This book should never have been published, but judging from the other reviews here pre-dating these allegations, it wasn't even worth publication on its own questionable literary merits anyway.
December 10, 2022
Right off the bat, as others have shared, these two articles are incredibly important in understanding this book and this author:
-https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
-https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
Memoirs are an especially tricky type of book because they involve the stories of others as they intersect with the author's story. Stories can't be neatly divided into clear ownership and that is most clear when someone is writing about their experiences of their own family and friends. That makes ethics all the more important when writing a memoir.
Ethical writing requires an author to be incredibly thoughtful and sensitive as they figure out how to tell their stories and whether to tell certain stories. Sometimes it involves accepting that some stories aren't yours to share or that your story might have to be heavily redacted to respect other people. Sometimes it involves seriously reconsidering your understanding of events and acting in a responsible, thoughtful, ethical way in light of that.
As a reader, I feel I have to trust the author when they share their story if I am to engage with the book at all. That is impossible to do in this case. The severe lack of ethics involved in writing and publishing this book makes it a story that never should have been published. I cannot even take Leah McLaren at her word when describing her own experiences in light of her incredible dishonesty and complete lack of regard (to put it lightly) for others. There is nothing to gain from this book except, unfortunately, for the pain caused to those whose stories were used against their consent, and lied about at that.
-https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
-https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
Memoirs are an especially tricky type of book because they involve the stories of others as they intersect with the author's story. Stories can't be neatly divided into clear ownership and that is most clear when someone is writing about their experiences of their own family and friends. That makes ethics all the more important when writing a memoir.
Ethical writing requires an author to be incredibly thoughtful and sensitive as they figure out how to tell their stories and whether to tell certain stories. Sometimes it involves accepting that some stories aren't yours to share or that your story might have to be heavily redacted to respect other people. Sometimes it involves seriously reconsidering your understanding of events and acting in a responsible, thoughtful, ethical way in light of that.
As a reader, I feel I have to trust the author when they share their story if I am to engage with the book at all. That is impossible to do in this case. The severe lack of ethics involved in writing and publishing this book makes it a story that never should have been published. I cannot even take Leah McLaren at her word when describing her own experiences in light of her incredible dishonesty and complete lack of regard (to put it lightly) for others. There is nothing to gain from this book except, unfortunately, for the pain caused to those whose stories were used against their consent, and lied about at that.
February 11, 2023
i have complex feelings about this book. it can somewhat be summed up by this quote. “when i write my story, i understand joni will perceive it as a violation, a burglary of her truth. and we both know i will write it.”
mclaren’s experiences are her own, but what in this has she co-opted? what right does she have to write others’ stories? i don’t have an answer to that. i’m not sure mclaren has an answer to that. but it was something that bothered me throughout.
mclaren’s experiences are her own, but what in this has she co-opted? what right does she have to write others’ stories? i don’t have an answer to that. i’m not sure mclaren has an answer to that. but it was something that bothered me throughout.
November 16, 2022
Ugh 😩 every page is wine, gin, drink, sick, drunk... What a self indulgent nothing of a book. There's no story, no narrative, no nothing. Boring 🪴
December 18, 2022
The author is an admitted rapist, which she described as consensual sex in this joke of a book. Don’t financially support evil with the purchase of this filth
December 10, 2022
Author committed sexual assault, will not read
January 10, 2023
Simultaneously boring, disorganized, whiny and lacking in the ability to see the perspective of others
December 31, 2022
Leah,
I created an account just to support any and all negative feedback.
I could have lived an entire lifetime never knowing who you are because you've created nothing notable, but alas.
Your legacy is being known as the rapist who likes to breastfeed other peoples children and I'm sure a character with your history will take this backlash as an opportunity to be an even worse person.
You, a blonde-haired-blue-eyed white woman with an abundance of privilege made these choices and swatted away any opportunity (of which you've received more than most) to do right. You decided upon causing harm and stand by your actions with a kale-eating grin all for a memoir nobody asked for.
Cursing your name eternally,
Murphy.
* I urge anyone who is reading this to also seek out the links below in the other reviews to read about the event in question from a place of truth.
I created an account just to support any and all negative feedback.
I could have lived an entire lifetime never knowing who you are because you've created nothing notable, but alas.
Your legacy is being known as the rapist who likes to breastfeed other peoples children and I'm sure a character with your history will take this backlash as an opportunity to be an even worse person.
You, a blonde-haired-blue-eyed white woman with an abundance of privilege made these choices and swatted away any opportunity (of which you've received more than most) to do right. You decided upon causing harm and stand by your actions with a kale-eating grin all for a memoir nobody asked for.
Cursing your name eternally,
Murphy.
* I urge anyone who is reading this to also seek out the links below in the other reviews to read about the event in question from a place of truth.
Read
December 9, 2022This author sexually assaulted someone and included it in her memoir as consensual. Do not spend your money on this https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
December 8, 2022
I reset my password to log in for the first time in years EXCLUSIVELY to tank this vile exercise in sadism.
This author all but gloats about assaulting a former friend in this book under the guise of “a three way”. She even had the gall to send the manuscript to her victim for “vetting” after admitting that she was an active participant in SA-ing that girl and apologizing for it while unknowingly being recorded.
And then she lied in this memoir anyway.
I encourage potential readers to go read what her victim had to say about it instead of giving money to this woman or this publishing company.
This author all but gloats about assaulting a former friend in this book under the guise of “a three way”. She even had the gall to send the manuscript to her victim for “vetting” after admitting that she was an active participant in SA-ing that girl and apologizing for it while unknowingly being recorded.
And then she lied in this memoir anyway.
I encourage potential readers to go read what her victim had to say about it instead of giving money to this woman or this publishing company.
January 11, 2023
Curiously tedious and dull. I found myself wondering "what's the point of all these revelations?" It seemed very self-indulgent to me.
December 7, 2022
This book should never have been published. The author, a sexual assaulter, has chosen to re-harm her victim by insisting that the sexual assault was "consensual". Please do not support this author.
January 15, 2023
This is a fascinating book for a professional woman to read — how much of yourself are you allowed to keep to yourself — to protect the time and space you need to succeed — and how much belongs to your children? The equation is different for everyone, and while it seems that the very least we can do for one another is to not judge, it is also true that some baseline targets have to be met for children to feel safe, be safe and thrive. There is a lot controversy surrounding this book, but I think it’s an important one. I could not put it down.
December 16, 2022
I found this difficult to read as I strongly believe storytellers and journalists have an ethical duty to the people they write about not to re-traumatize them.
“I was sexually assaulted when I was 16. Penguin Random House Canada published a memoir by one of my assailants claiming it was consensual” by Zoe Charlotte Greengerg
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
“Leah has read my unpublished novel. She saw my experience as great material, even as a chance for us to connect. I saw it as the appropriation of my story, a story that, if it is to be told at all, should be told by me. After much negotiation, I asked her to drop the idea, and I assumed she had. But over martinis at the hotel bar, she told me she had signed a major book deal. It took me the rest of our few days together to process the news that my daughter would be publishing a tell‑all about my experience and the impact it has had on hers.” By Cecily Ross https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
For more on trauma informed journalism and story background: https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/84...
“I was sexually assaulted when I was 16. Penguin Random House Canada published a memoir by one of my assailants claiming it was consensual” by Zoe Charlotte Greengerg
https://zcgreenberg.medium.com/pengui...
“Leah has read my unpublished novel. She saw my experience as great material, even as a chance for us to connect. I saw it as the appropriation of my story, a story that, if it is to be told at all, should be told by me. After much negotiation, I asked her to drop the idea, and I assumed she had. But over martinis at the hotel bar, she told me she had signed a major book deal. It took me the rest of our few days together to process the news that my daughter would be publishing a tell‑all about my experience and the impact it has had on hers.” By Cecily Ross https://reviewcanada.ca/magazine/2020...
For more on trauma informed journalism and story background: https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/84...
August 20, 2022
A few years ago I found myself sitting beside a charming older man at Easter brunch with friends and family of a Toronto pal. He mentioned his daughter was a writer. “Anyone I’ve heard of?” I asked. “Leah McLaren,” he said. Of course I’d heard about her, and had long read her columns in The Globe and loved her first novel. He mentioned she was writing a book about her relationship with her Mother. Boy was she ever! I had high hopes for this book but feel like the contents would have felt more appropriately unpacked on an analyst’s couch than between the covers of a book. It’s told that way, too - backwards and forwards in time. It’s not that there haven’t been plenty of plenty of engaging memoirs written about complicated Mother-Daughter relationships, it’s just that this one struggles to give you someone to cheer for. I wondered if the only audience Leah McLaren cared about who would read her book was her Mother.
April 12, 2023
Are you $&&$ing kidding me with this self indulgent, narcissistic bull?!? While it’s well written, it’s so incredibly overwritten, drowning in tedious details and trying to connect everything in such a clumsy way. There is no way any self respecting editor or publisher would have let this book be published in this state had it not had the “star power” of a controversial. Canadian journalist behind it.
July 28, 2022
This is one of the memoirs I will probably never forget. McLaren wrote this in such a way that I felt entirely immersed. I felt like I was living beside her the entire time. There are multiple trigger warnings for this one but I’ll definitely be recommending it. I have no words for the emptiness I feel right now, knowing that this is done.
August 6, 2022
A tough upbringing. An overly open one with a different type of mom. Lots of angst. Definitely therapy in writing the book and the mother is worried to be judged harshly. Mothering is hard but rewarding. I tired of the conflict and games and definitely kept wishing they had therapists. Not my type of book.
August 17, 2022
The examination of the relationship between mother and daughter (author) held my interest. However, I felt the author’s sexual exploits detracted rather than added to the essence of the story.
And I continually questioned whether any of us have the right to take liberties with someone else’s story even if that someone; or rather, especially if that someone, is our Mum.
And I continually questioned whether any of us have the right to take liberties with someone else’s story even if that someone; or rather, especially if that someone, is our Mum.
May 11, 2022
Can’t wait to make this a book club pick
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