Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

A debut graphic memoir about elder care in America by an expat coping with her mother’s dementia. Dorrance’s upbeat, airy linework packs an unsuspecting emotional wallop as she ruminates not only on her mother’s demise, but on her own life, shaped in part by other rifts and losses. Over gossamer washes of watercolor, Dorrance often eschews the traditional frames of a comic strip to create a hazier story, adrift between real-life scenes and more fluid, sketchier memories. After learning that her mother was in the hospital, the author flew from England back to her childhood home to tend to her. But her proactive attempts were muddled by “the tug of [her] past,” as well as by sibling tension, insurance claims, and care logistics, all of which left little room for her to properly process her impending loss. Dorrance let humor guide her through these difficult days, and the narrative often pushes away the dreadful reality of her mother’s dementia with a high dose of levity. At times, this counterpoint between humor and grief is revelatory. In one scene, Dorrance stubbornly bickers with Death itself, a predictably costumed specter with a black hood and scythe. Moments later, any cartoonish cheekiness is obliterated by Dorrance’s rendering of her mother, wide-eyed but staring emptily, muttering about her missing purse. Other visual gags are more quirky than powerful. In a tired recurring bit, Dorrance draws herself in a crown and mantle every time someone mentions her British accent. In another scene, she imagines a psychoanalysis session with the ghost of Dr. Ruth. Elsewhere, she pretends she’s a contestant on Let’s Make a Deal as she makes decisions about her mother’s care. These tonal diversions always snap back to reality with a devastating whiplash, which can feel detrimental to the pacing and emotional intensity. A delicately drawn, unconventional chronicle of loss. Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.