The Mercy Papers: A Memoir of Three Weeks (Hardcover)

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Key Phrases: The Mercy Papers, Robin Romm, New York (more...)

Editorial Reviews

From Bookmarks Magazine

Robin Romm is no stranger to documenting loss, as her two collections of short fiction attest. Although she didn't set out to document the last weeks of her mother's life for publication, The Mercy Papers distills the emotion of those earlier stories of loss into one highly personal episode. Romm is an adept guide who doesn't hesitate to expose the raw nerve. Her memoir treads a fine line—there is an intense intimacy that can leave the outsider overwhelmed and a bit cold, but there is also a powerful, empowering familiarity to readers who have experienced similar pain and loss. Even with glimmers of humor (particularly relating to her grandfather), The Mercy Papers is a book that can be hard to read—but well worth the effort.
Copyright 2009 Bookmarks Publishing LLC

From Booklist

Romm presents a wrenching chronicle of the three weeks before her mother’s death from cancer. Her skills as a poet are obvious in the lyrical language she uses to describe her sadness and fury as her mother grows increasingly weaker. Though Romm still sees flashes of the bright, witty civil rights attorney her mother was, she cannot avoid detailing her rapid decline. As Romm’s mother succumbs, Romm relies on her dog, Mercy, for comfort and support. She fights attempts by Barb, a nurse, to speed her mother’s passing with drugs and turn it into some sort of strange theater with CDs for the dying and other trappings. All the while, she knows that the clock is moving inexorably toward her mother’s death. Romm’s piercing and personal look at loss will speak to anyone who has coped or is coping with the death of a loved one. --Katherine Boyle

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 224 pages
• Publisher: Scribner; 1 edition (January 6, 2009)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1416567887
• ISBN-13: 978-1416567882
• Product Dimensions: 8.1 x 5.2 x 1.1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 15.2 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.2 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (43 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #254,742 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

9 of 9 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars "The truth of loss is loud and ferocious.", January 4, 2009

By	Julee Rudolf "book snob" (Oak Harbor, WA USA) - See all my reviews

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If you've lost a parent, then you're likely to better empathize with author Robin Romm in her "memoir of three weeks." The short sorrowful time was the last of her mother's life, spanning portions of October and November 2004. Robin describes the woman she remembers from her pre-debilitated days as, (p 144) "the one who dispenses legal advice, knows what's showing at the MOMA, cooks cornflake chicken while simultaneously doing laundry and balancing her checkbook, potty-trains the dog, corrects your grammar, counsels sparring couples, and remembers exactly where she puts everything." At nineteen, during her freshman year of college, she learned of her 46 year old mother's grim diagnosis: stage iv breast cancer. One doctor gave her a year, the other, ten. Suffering through a series of treatments, she survived nine years with the insidious disease. Her daughter's story is one of regret (time not spent with Mom); resentment towards her doctor-father, of whom she writes, (p 147) "for the nine years my mother was ill, he checked out;" disdain for the horrid hospice nurse who had (p 3) "no interest in my mothers' life" and seemed to want to dose Jackie Romm with drugs to hasten her death, "She's building a boat to sail my mother out," and a bit of conflict with her mother's long-time lawyer friends, (p 148) "there's competitiveness brewing in the kitchen-who can make Mom lucid, who can spend the most quality time with Mom." Family, friends, and church members rally around the dying woman, trying as best they can to provide comfort. Robin deals in her own way, trying to prolong her mother's life, quarreling with hospice workers and caregivers, and hanging out with friends, amidst a sometimes chaotic household filled with persons and pets.

The only real fault I find with The Mercy Papers is that it is not divided into chapters. Part One, 172 continuous pages, ends with Jackie Romm's death. And it seems disrespectful to stop reading at any point during that section. Part Two, the funeral, fills only twenty pages, followed by the five-page Afterword. Some might take issue with the fact that few would want to be "portrayed" in such a state: sick, withered, weary, and not much longer for this world. Romm, an only child and writer by trade, gets that. Of it she writes, (p 209) "...she would have wanted her journey to be something others could use." It was useful to me. From reading it (often overwhelmed with tears), I realized that my father's sudden and unexpected death (of chf at 62), could have been worse. And I don't begrudge those insensitives who tried to comfort me in the aftermath with, "At least he didn't suffer," quite as much as I used to. The Mercy Papers is lovely, lurid, and laudable, especially to those who have lost a parent. Similarly sad: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (especially the beginning) by Dave Eggers, and The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars "The truth of loss is loud and ferocious", March 1, 2009

By	Jill I. Shtulman (Chicago, IL USA) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

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The bond between a mother and a daughter is not easily broken -- not at 40, not at 50, and certainly not at 19, when Robin Romm's mother is diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. During the next 10 years, Romm loses her mother by degrees, and, in this memoir, focuses on the last three weeks of her mother's life.

This isn't a pretty, sentimental book; some may take offense in the author's focus on herself as her mother gets ready to "set sail". I am not one of them. To me, the book is painfully, grippingly honest: it shows the strong and messy feelings that occur when death reaches in and yanks the one person who is one of the centerpieces of our lives -- our mothers.

Romm runs the gamut of all emotions: extreme anger at those who appear to be hastening her mother toward the end, fear of being left alone, vulnerability of watching others, such as her boyfriend, go on with day-to-day lives as she is immersed in the death watch. There is even humor; for instance, Romm hears that when the fingers turn blue, there is only four days left to live. Naturally, she's horrified when she sees that her mother's fingertips are blue, only to find out it's because she was eating blueberries.

There is fury here, and awe, and a sense of retreating back to childhood in emotions and thought processes. This is definitely an unflinching look at death; while others prefer to "close the wound, hurry it shut", the author correctedly senses that this loss will be always life-altering. For those who are navigating loss, at whatever age, I also suggest the excellent "An Uncertain Inheritance", a composite of stories by well-known authors about their experiences with various types of loss. The Mercy Papers deserves kudos for its unfailing honesty.

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Unflinchingly honest, January 12, 2009

By	Comdet - See all my reviews (TOP 100 REVIEWER)

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In The Mercy Papers, Robin Romm presents a warts-and-all peek into her and her family's lives during what was arguably one of the most emotionally wrenching events for her family - the prolonged dying and death of Ms. Romm's mother. Surviving for nine years after her diagnosis, Romm's mother Jackie appears to have spent much of that time suffering varying levels of pain and debilitation. While earlier moments during those nine years are referenced, much of the memoir seats itself in the last few weeks, a useful writing tactic on Romm's part, as it helps the reader feel the real claustrophobia that Romm felt herself during that time. And not only claustrophobia, but ennui, which creep in daily, ultimately making participation in any "normal" activities seem like an obscene act. Romm gets across very effectively that horrifying sense of walking in circles, emotionally.

In the writing of memoirs such as this one, it can be hard to resist the urge to sugar-coat the events, or place the participants in the best possible light. One has to admire Ms. Romm for her willingness to show every family member - and especially herself - experiencing all the conflicting emotions and thoughts that *do* happen - given her characterization of her own mother as a forthright and frank individual, her approach seems to be a fitting service to her mother, as well as to her readers.