This book was OK. I get what Mira was trying to do, and she did do it. The rooms were well thought out and did leave many impressions and were a fine introduction to the memories she shared with us, but it seemed that we spent a lot of time wandering those rooms in a meaningless way, especially for the times when Mira had left home and country with only cursory, or none at all, returns to the original point/room.
What she didn't do was transport me. The nearly constant (and therefore insufferable) allusion to paintings, music, and stories may be beneficial in relating a story if it is a shared experience because it can be used as a vehicle to relate feelings, thoughts, impressions in an effective and wordless manner, BUT if the experiences are unshared, well, then, it just falls flat. Like it did here. Or worse, it begins to seem that there may be someone doing a form of name dropping to 'normalize' the rest of their lives. I may be projecting here.... however this book is an example of a failed attempt at that type of connection. It is as meaningless as her, or her mother's, listing of random things as a coping mechanism. The greater sin than that failure, however, is that she knew we were unfamiliar with a couple of the paintings and tried to describe them to the full emotional effect. IT NEVER WORKS! DON'T TRY IT! IT DRIVES ME MAD! Also, the few and far between attempts at a lyricaland beautiful prose falls flat, mostly because she uses beautiful, and faintly connected, phrases at the beginning of each room/chapter.
The underlying story is sad. She grew up with a mentally ill mom, the schizophrenia only worsened, until she went away to school. That, however wasn't enough, she (and her older sister) made the decision to change their name and limit all contact with their mother. The 17 years that they didn't see their mother and had limited mail contact with her seemed to me to be the most tragic, because it is the story of a woman keeping someone at arms length even though they'd really like to find the real her under all the illness. The mother, meanwhile, becomes a homeless, blind, and toothless charactere, but the arrival of terminal cancer seems to bring things full circle. The two grown sisters return once again to hold a vigil, or more accurately witness, their mothers death with an attempt to connect with her now that she's physically incapacitated and her illness is less obtrusive to their relating. The mom dies. The girls wander down memory lane a bit. The End.
Is it tragic? Yeah, sure. It isn't enough though. Tragic does not make a story. Insight and lyricism do. Along with a more tightly woven story. Naming it 'Memory Palace' is no excuse to warder aimlessly for the whole second half of the book.
I will say that when she did mention my home town of Northampton MA as a place where she saw her (apparently) mentally ill husband, she was putting into code that she had landed in the nest of mental health services. Northampton had a state hospital and since it's closing, has been liberal enough to really work at providing community services to those mentally ill left (or 'released') in the town. It didn't just bury it's head. Another shared experience that Mira thought would help convey a deeper meaning without her needing to really work at it, but unless you know the town, it won't. Northampton may be a world of it's own, but those who've never lived there will have no idea why you mentioned it. I do love that town though!