Bloom: A Review

Disclaimer: I'm not a book reviewer. I don't do this as a profession. There are many more talented people out there who review books. However, I read books - tons of them. I don't know how many books I've read in my lifetime, but it could be close to 10,000 (that's probably an exaggeration) So I have a fairly strong sense of what good writing looks like. And although I can't always agree that a book is "captivating" (just because it's a classic, for instance), I can certainly come to appreciate another reader's opinion. So if you've read Bloom, feel free to debate with me.

The lowly blogger's ultimate dream - a post goes viral, sponsors flock to your site, and publishers are pounding on your door, asking for a "tell all" memoir. It's happened a number of times (think Julie and Julia), and it will happen again.

And so it happened to Kelle Hampton, who wrote a heart wrenching blog post about her daughter's birth (when it was discovered she had Down Syndrome), and watched as the world shared the link, and then shared it some more.

Fast forward a couple of years, and the memoir is now on bookshelves. Bloom tells the story of Nella Cordelia's birth, and the family's realization that little Nella has an extra special chromosome. Interspersed in the present day story are short anecdotes from Kelle's own childhood (a bit of a dysfunctional family life, with a scandalous divorce in a tight-knit church community) and her life pre-children.

So...what's to like about this book? First off, it's gorgeous. The paper is coffee table quality, and about half the space is dedicated to Kelle's bright and airy photographs (who doesn't love photographs of the Floridian landscape? Is Floridian a word?). And if you're an avid reader of Kelle's blog, you'll be hit with her familiar style of writing. Her editors have clearly done a great job in keeping her "brand" in check.

Kelle provides just enough information to the reader to satisfy our curiosity, without over sharing. The book offers a very brief glimpse into her family life, her past and what she is working through at the present. But if you're looking for mud slinging or shocking stories, you won't find any. Just as Kelle's blog offers on a daily basis, this book is a tale of triumph - oh, and joy. Plenty of joy.

What's not to like about the book? Here's where my inner book critic eagerly jumps into the foray.

Her writing is somewhat repetitive. There are definitely chapters (or paragraphs) that involve family dialogue and stories, and these are the more interesting bits. The rest follows Kelle's style of grand similes and hyperbole, with quotations from the masters of poetry (e.g. Mary Oliver) thrown in here and there. Oh, and crying. Lots and lots of crying. She is clearly a creative, artistic and emotional individual, but it did grate on the nerves once or twice that the crying had to be described again.


And here's the other thing - if you're a parent of a child with special needs, this book (and probably Kelle's blog), might not be to your taste. Most likely, your days are not spent combing the beach for shells, and you may have a hard time summoning the "rah rah rah" attitude that Kelle imbibes. I can't imagine what a special needs parent goes through, but I know if my own life with a completely healthy child is any indication, I might maintain Kelle's optimism about 25% of the time. I'm British, what can I say. We love to whine and complain.

Despite some criticism, I liked this book, and I'll continue to read the blog. I look up to people with uncontrolled enthusiasm for life. I've always been attracted to positive women, and they represent to me the person I hope I may one day become (in another life of course...I'm still British in this life). When my house is a wreck and my child is screaming, looking at Kelle's blog doesn't make me jealous or sad. It just fills me with joy, and brings back memories of all the wonderful vacations my family spent together in Florida.

If nothing else, Bloom is the ultimate in self help. It's cozy, breezy, and warm, just like a Florida sunset. So grab your Pina Colada and enjoy. If it's not worth the $25 (in hardcover), it's certainly worth a trip to the library.

Hating the annoying, or loving the unreachable?

I've recently become enamoured with a blog called Enjoying the Small Things, which I'm sure many of you have heard about. I came across it because of her famous post about her daughter's birth story. As a doula, I am constantly reading birth stories, in the hopes of gleaning any extra information I can about labour, birth and baby care. This helps me to be better informed for my clients.

So much to my surprise, when I was one day googling "Kelle Hampton" (the author of the blog), and came across a whole gaggle of links referring to terms like "kelle hampton annoying" and "kelle hampton hating." With some time to waste, I clicked on the links and began reading.

Twenty minutes later, I came to the conclusion that we could all do with a little more love in this world. Naive? Perhaps. Stupid? Most certainly not.

I was able to draw a link between these "kelle haters" and a recent column I read by Christie Blatchford about the death of a Canadian politician, Jack Layton, and the letter that was released by his family posthumously. In this column, Christie ridicules the eloquent words of Jack Layton, writing that the letter "shows what a canny, relentless, thoroughly ambitious fellow Mr. Layton was. Even on Saturday, two days before he died, he managed to keep a gimlet eye on all the campaigns to come."

She also points out that he wrote this in conjunction with his party president, chief of staff, and wife, which somehow suggests that it was no more than the wasted words of a conniving politician. Two days before death, I'm not sure many people could write an eloquent letter without a little help. When my grandfather passed away from colon cancer, his decline was quick and devastating, and he wouldn't have been able to put pen to paper if he tried.

And yes, of course the letter had a political message - what would you expect of a fellow who had risen so high, so fast, only to see it all slip away in a month's time? What Christie fails to consider is that perhaps Mr. Layton's letter had a deeper meaning than simply a desire to be boastful and vain. I didn't know the guy personally, but if I take what I know from friends who DID know him, I see him as a person who truly cared about the well being of all human beings. You don't come across these types of people very often, and it's even rarer for such a stellar guy to also be a charismatic and effective leader.

I don't feel angry with these "kelle hater" bloggers and columnist Christie Blatchford, but I do feel sorry for them. Somewhere along their life paths, they have become the epitome of cynicism, and this saddens me greatly. Although I respect their right to comment on social, political and cultural issues (as I am doing right this minute), it strengthens my resolve to live differently. What I hope for myself and my family, is that we never get to the point where we find the creativity, positiveness and confidence of other people to be annoying....or worse, "vainglorious."

Is it so bad to embrace things that are sappy? Is it so horrible to rejoice in the beauty of this life, even for brief and fleeting moments? Would our world be any worse off if we followed Jack's advice?

What I suspect deep down (and perhaps have even felt at times) is that those people who become cynical are truly desiring something they find to be out of their reach - as mothers, perhaps it is the image of the "perfect" family; as women, it might be our perceived notion of beauty (we're never thin enough, pretty enough...); as human beings, is it the desire for love, forgiveness or empathy?
 
The next time you read something, watch something or talk to someone and have the knee-jerk reaction to ridicule, criticize or condemn, stop for a moment and tap into your desires. What is it you truly want? What do you see somewhere else (or IN someone else) that you sense is missing in your own life? Because that hole is certainly there, and you will try to fill it with your cynicism, anger and sadness.
 
For now, I will fill any holes I find with the joy of the small things and will remain in awe of the beauty of Kelle's pictures and Jack's letter. When I'm gone, I hope to be remembered for taking delight in things, not taking the delight out of things.