Most Helpful Customer Reviews
29 of 32 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
grateful to Kaysen for sharing, November 2, 2001
My opinions about Kaysen's books are shaped largely by the fact that I suffer from the same malady this book describes, vulvar vestibulitis, a form of vulvodynia (literally "painful vulva"). It was an overwhelming relief to read this book, to hear another woman talking about her experience with this disorder and facing many of the same challenges I have faced. Among the two largest of these are trying to talk to friends and family about a disorder that few people know about and that very few feel comfortable discussing (how many friends can you talk frankly about your genitals with? think about it) and trying to have an intimate relationship with someone when sex is painful, difficult, or downright impossible. The book is well-written and very readable. Kaysen even manages to be funny. The novel focuses on Kaysen's personal experience, and does not claim to be a medical guide - this is what makes it an interesting read for anyone, not just those affected with vulvodynia. I disagree with Kaysen's attitudes about potential treatment (she seems to dismiss some things out of hand, in my opinion) but I'm overwhelmingly grateful to her for sharing her experience. Some statistics say that 15% of women have some form of vulvodynia during the course of their life. If more women with vulvodynia - and more who, like Kaysen, are already in the public eye - would speak out about their experiences, the rest of us would not feel so isolated.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No
19 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Vulva, Interrupted - realistic portrayal, October 9, 2001
By A Customer
As in "Girl, Interrupted," Susanna Kaysen focuses her sharp camera-eye on a reality not often talked about. In "Girl, Interrupted" these realities largely centered around mental illness and definitions of such for women. In "The Camera My Mother Gave Me," the realities are vulvar disorders - causes, treatments, explanations, talking with others about it - and figuring out its meaning. I liked this book largely because it was a very true story not just about Kaysen's life, but about many women who struggle with a vulvar disorder - be in vestibulitis (as Kaysen has), vulvodynia, lichen sclerosus - even vulvar cancer. Women with vulvar disorders often wonder if they are alone, why hasn't there been more research in years or in decades (Kaysen and her research and medical colleagues make this point, too) - is this a reflection on mental state? or is there really a physical cause? is it a connection between the two that may exacerbate the terrible lows of the disorder? These are questions that women diagnosed with vulvar disorders grapple with. It was also fascinating to read this book years after having read "Girl, Interrupted" - and to really empathize with her reaction when she is faced with the prospect of having to take tricyclic antidepressants or an SSRI such as Prozac. Having this thread of her autobiographies gave "The Camera My Mother Gave Me" much added weight.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No
19 of 22 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Honest and remarkable., February 2, 2002
My god, what a life Kaysen, the author of "Girl, Interrupted," a memoir about her teenage years in a mental institution, has had. First that and now this -- a follow-up memoir about her experiences years later with a mysterious and ultimately untreatable vaginal syndrome, the main symptom of which is unbearable and constant pain. As she struggles with the pain and her frustration over her doctors' inability to find out what is causing it, she also finds herself battling her boyfriend who has no compassion for her problem and just accuses of her not wanting to have sex with him anymore. Again, Kaysen does not shy away from all the gory details -- including the intense emotional ups and downs that ensue. But it was really her words on chronic pain that truly affected me. The realization, for example, that, honestly, the pain itself isn't the worst part of chronic pain. The worst part is the fact that you can't ever leave it. Even when you are distracted into forgetting it's there -- it's ALWAYS THERE. And this, more than the pain itself, is what makes people with chronic pain so incredibly exhausted. As someone in that category myself (though my pain is in my hands), I could really relate to her stories -- her guilt (is this my fault? did I do something wrong? if I don't want to try something that might help, does that mean I don't want to get better?), her frustration, her fear that it's "all in her head," and, most of all, her ultimate decision not to let it rule her life anymore. She says at one point she felt like she'd become a vagina -- a walking, talking vagina, the pain had so consumed her world. And that changed everything. That was unacceptable. This is a short but incredibly powerful book. Great for chronic pain warriors (I prefer that to "patients" or "sufferers") who crave the validation that comes from hearing someone else articulate what you feel. And, even better, great for the friends and family of CP warriors who struggle to understand but so often just cannot. (...) In the passage just after this one, she describes chronic pain as being like carrying an unwieldy suitcase around. It's not that the suitcase is too heavy to bear -- it's that you can't ever set it down. That's it. That's it EXACTLY. This is a marvelous book. If Kaysen is reading this: thank you.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No
|
