Five Days Gone

I hate to write a bad review of a book because literature is so subject to taste. But this was truly one of the most pointless, dull books I’ve ever read half of. I heard the author on NPR and thought it was an intriguing topic, but it just couldn’t have been more boring. And it was more expensive then most books!

In Five Days Gone: The Mystery of My Mothers Disappearance as a Child, Laura Cumming sets out to solve the intriguing mystery of her mothers brief abduction at age three. Her mother did not learn of the incident for decades. Nor was she told she was adopted until ten years after her disappearance. About both instances, her parents were close-mouthed, as was the entire village. Cumming seeks to uncover the facts of the kidnapping, and more challenging, to learn why the townsfolk remained so taciturn. She therefore goes into great detail about the rural English landscape and historical setting, details which interest Cumming as she investigates her roots, but wont engage readers because they fail to explain the silence. We are also introduced to many characters, who are hard to keep straight because many dont come to life on the page. As a fiction writer who extensively researches my books (see my Amazon author page www.amazon.com/author/asewovenwords), Ive learned to include only information that furthers character and plot development. Cumming is too self-absorbed to pare down her narrative. Because her mother (and father) were artists, she draws analogies between famous paintings or photos and people and scenes in her search. Some succeed; too many are forced. Most disappointing, while Cumming paints a loving and sympathetic portrait of her mother, readers dont emerge with any deep insights into why, decades hence, the community still refuses to talk.

This book hit deep chords within me. It deserves the praise and readership it is getting. Laura Cummings tells the story of a woman who miraculously broke the chain of generations of trauma from parental abandonment; she grew up to be an artist and the authors sunny, loving, and dedicated mother.

Two mysteries form the heart of this story. One has to do with this woman and her family: Who is this womanBetty, Grace, or Elizabeth (she calls herself Elizabeth)who are her parents, and why are the answers to these questions kept secret from her for decades? The other has to do with the triumph of this woman herselfhow did she transform her experience of childhood isolation and abandonment into love and creativity, which she showered on her children and grandchildren and with which she infused her art. Laura Cummingss book unravels the first question. The answer to the second question remains a mystery, but this book is a testament to the truth of her mothers triumph. As a person with a complicated family history that includes abandonment by my biological father and deep, loving bonds forged with non-blood relations, I related to a great deal in this book, and I admired both Elizabeths resilience and her fragility. I also admired Ms. Cummingss love for and dedication to her mothershe gives her mother the understanding, compassion, and celebration few parents ever dream of ever receiving from their children.

It is not a perfect bookis there one? Its flaws are limited to these: a fair bit of repetition and a stylistic breathlessness about the mystery of her mothers origins. The Mozart of Amadeus criticizes Salieris music for having too many notes. Similarly, Ms. Cummingss book has too many words and dramatic wind-ups. That being said, Salieri wrote gorgeous music worth listening to and celebrating. Ms. Cummingss story is indeed a gorgeous work of art and an even more beautiful work of love.

This book sounded interesting when a Book club member picked it, but I struggled to get through it. The way it is written is confusing and much of the time I didn’t know who the author was writing about or quoting. It sounded like a good mystery but instead is really just a very sad, family memoir.

I disliked the author’s device, which was to tell the story through tiny photographs. I understand why she did this; since she was not there for the events she wanted it to be more authentic. But it became annoying. This book is a memoir, not truly a novel, and it went back and forth in time too much; I had difficulty remembering who was who. It would have helped, perhaps, to refer to Vida consistently as “Grandma Vida.” As the story progressed I found it more interesting, but had I not felt obliged to read it for a book club I would have set it down after the first chapter.

If she had indeed written it as a novel, I feel it would have been more interesting for the reader. She could have brought each character to life rather than made us wonder about why they did what they did.

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