Customer Reviews

Do You Remember Me?: A Father, a Daughter, and a Search for the Self

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Do You Remember Me isn't just about Alzheimer's. I could hardly put it down, even though no one in my family or anyone I know well has ever been diagnosed with this malady. Levine's book is funny, poignant, flinty, tender, and very moving. On a deep and affecting level, it's about the struggles we all go through to remain generous, loving and connected in a world that, more and more, pressures us to shut down emotionally and look out solely for Number One. I read this book over a week ago and am still thinking about it.

I got a great deal out of reading Levine's fascinating book about her father's dementia. It made such compelling reading that the book was hard to put down. What I especially admired was Levine's skillful combining of autobiographical detail and informed discussion of dementia. The two aspects of the book flowed into each other: the autobiographical details provide evidence for Levine's take on debates about dementia. She's fully informed about these debates having read both neuroscientists and psychologists and more on the issue. She is thus able to discuss the science involved without overwhelming the reader.

Second, as with many others I'm sure, elements of Levine's story resonated with my experiences with relatives who are aging. Levine's understanding of dementia and her description of the problems of assisted living were illuminating.

Third, I was persuaded by Levine's view of dementia, and the side she takes in ongoing debates. While in no way denying the biological changes in the brain that go with aging, Levine shows that the way a person reacts to neurological changes (the tangled plaques, etc) depends on her context-on her social and emotional environment. Also, how others respond to one's aging determines one's vulnerability to dementia. This very much fits in with my interest in the social construction of "aging," and in how age discourse impacts on those of us, indeed, aging, from the marketing geared to this group to the continued dismissal and marginalizing of the elderly in a youth-obsessed culture. Levine's analysis of the Cartesian model and what's wrong with it resonates very much with new work by Teresa Brennan, in her posthumous Transmission of Affect. Reader's of Levine's book might appreciate reading Brennan.

Finally, Levine's discussion of the caregiver and different expectations of this role, different possibilities of the role, was very informative.

Levine's openness about her family and personal life is remarkable and draws the reader in. I was fascinated with drama that emerges in Levine's relationship with her mother, and appreciated the irony that Levine could get closer to her father once he could no longer provoke intellectual battles with his daughter: This supports Levine's view that the rational, individual self of the western enlightenment omits many other important ways of being, loving and knowing.

Levine's writing throughout does not get in the way of what she's saying, which, for me, is the highest praise one can give about any writing.

I appreciated the opportunity to read this book. It should be mandatory reading for every social worker, doctor and caregiver!

Just want to strongly echo the other reviews. Loved her thoughtfulness about dementia, relationships and family - and honestly, found it very helpful for thinking about and relating to my aging parents (early 80's) who do not have Alzheimers, but are certainly getting older. A very respectful and loving book, smart. Recommend it a LOT.

Judith Levine has written a powerful book that explores the
many dimensions of Alzheimer's. She challenges common medical
opinions and offers alternatives; she reveals the awesome
conflict between herself and her Mother as they struggle to
face the father/husband's decline; and she bravely listens to her father, trying to be with the self that remains. The family battle over whether to institutionalize and the difficulty in finding adequate home care providers will resonate with anyone
who has faced similar dilemmas. But most important, Levine gives the reader a profound appreciation of the mystery of the apparently disappearing self. Surely readers will now see such people with a new sense of humility and wonder. Thank you, Judith!

With great honesty and insight, Judith Levine chronicles complicated and painful family relationships. These intertwine in the struggle to understand and deal with her father's downward spiral into the world of Alzheimer's. The important message at the end of the author's arduous journey is that the soul of the individual, the self, is ever viable and needs to be respected and nourished while going in new and uncharted directions.
I highly recommend this timely, sensitive, and well-researched book which is both moving and provocative.

As her father's Alzheimer's disease advances in her account, Judith Levine tells of how it is no longer clear whether he knows who she is. She says that he sometimes calls her "Shorty". "Do you remember me?" is what he asks her and others, as a way for him to remember them. "Yes, I do, I remember you well," she replies. This is a beautiful book that reads like a novel, although filled with philosophical musings about the self, and what it means to be a human being while not a "thinking" human being, that require great concentration from the reader. It's deeply moving because Levine had a bad relationship with her father, and, as life would have it, reaches out to him when he is falling ill. Her discussions with her mother are also moving because of the great difficulty in coping with somebody becoming prey to Alzheimer's, and the need for caregivers to build up ways to protect themselves. Levine however does not accept the "standard rule" apparently in Alzheimer's medical and family circles, that in order to care for a patient, one must come to believe that he or she is no longer a "self". That's why the book could be called "Shorty and I" because Levine has written the "I" - her father - into the story. As much as he can be, he's a player, not a subject.

This is a wise book by a wonderful writer. Like its subject matter, it is alternately painful and funny, emotional and intellectual, intimate and political. As she tracks her father's Alzheimers-induced deterioration, Levine refuses either to sugar-coat dementia or to treat those affected by it as less than human. She's similarly compassionate yet unsentimental about the rest of her family, herself included. I've been recommending this book to all my friends -- those who have dealt with the illness of loved ones, and the rest, who will.

A memoir of a New York leftwing Jewish family, a social science analysis of aging and dementia, a thoroughgoing psychological self-analysis - this book really has it all. The story was occasioned by Levine's father's Alzheimer's, but it goes in many fascinating directions to dwell on human relationships, change and growth. Levine, whose previous books I also thoroughly enjoyed for their combination of passionate politics and tremendous writing talent, has bitten off a lot with this memoir, but she is up to the task. I gained an appreciation for dementia I lacked before, and I am actually much less afraid of the subject - this is quite an achievement! The book is as engrossing as a novel, and instead of studiously underlining in my usual fashion, I found myself turning pages eagerly without worrying that I would forget the important points. I am going to recommend this book to several reading groups - and I am confident that they will thank me! This is a really humanistic work and it deserves a wide audience.

Interloper ?; Should a person read a book about a daughter's relationship with her Alzheimer's suffering father and try to relate when having no type of connection ? Being that I'm puzzled sometimes by what motivates me to read certain books, perhaps it boils down to transcendence. With that said, like any jigsaw puzzle of a tale there are pieces apparently missing and pieces overlapping. What I don't fancy about this book is the sometimes extravagant word usage and the over-ambitious stretching of the Memoir format (Cartesian blah-blah). What I definitely do like about this book is: it will cause you to clearly understand despair, develop a seemingly vested interest and assault ones integrity; all at about the same time. To conclude, when life changes on a dime: we might have to learn to cry again, learn to live in a strange new reality and live(ing)... it down is never a smooth experience.

This is a great book in understanding dementia. In fact, I ordered a copy for my youngest daughter who's dealing with my ex-husband's senility. It's extremely helpful for anyone dealing with a partner, family member or friend who seems increasingly disoriented. Especially when people are living longer lives and approximately 50% of people in their 80's suffer from dementia. But the discussions also raise other important issues. For example, the author quotes historian Jesse Ballenger '..we may be reducing old age itself into a spiritless, managed and bureaucratized, and medicalized experience that doesn't amount to much besides an avoidance of disease. That's a pretty hard thing to build your life around.' Which applies to many of us, younger or older, who are inundated with medical information and advertising; The question arises, are we becoming overly concerned about the length rather than the quality of our lives?