Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox

 Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox, illustrated by Julia Vivas

Rating: 5 quirky stars

During the first few years of my parents' divorce, I didn't think there would be much good to come of it, for me. But, as it always does, time proves one wrong. I realized how much I had to gain from certain new people in my life that appeared because something else disappeared. Carmen is one of those people. Carmen is my stepfather's mother, and she is the best character in my real life that I have. She is one of the strongest women I have ever met, which means to say that she is stubborn beyond belief, hard-headed to a fault, and so strong-willed that it's hard to leave a conversation with her without feeling frustrated. But man is she cool. I don't wonder what she was like as a younger version of herself in Germany before she married a soldier and became a more ordinary American than she really would have preferred because I can't imagine a diluted version of Carmen.

How does Carmen fit in with Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge? Good question. I come from a long line of tangent-talkers, so I'll cut to the chase: First, this book is about memory, and about memory loss. Young Wilfred Gordon lives next to an old folks' home, and befriends all of its characters. His favorite, Miss Nancy, is losing her memory--he finds this out because his parents are talking about her. Being so young, he's oblivious to such big concepts as "memory" so he goes to his friends, those wise wrinkled ones at the old folks' home, to find out. They each tell him something different: "Something warm" or "something funny" or "something sad" and he goes to find something of his own that represents that something in order to help Miss Nancy regain her memory. It is a quirky book for the children's section, and the few times I've explained what this book is about to other mothers, their eyes widen.

Obviously, Miss Nancy has Alzheimer's, as does our beloved Carmen. The woman whose intellect and personality was once so fierce, strong, spot-on, and quick is now murky, confused, unsure, and lost. It is hard to watch, and I have the comfortable spot of watching from several hundred miles away. But can you imagine watching someone who was once such a force shrink? It breaks my heart.

And, at the same time as Carmen is losing her memory, Lorelei is gaining hers. It is just mind-boggling to watch a little girl and old woman be in a very similar spot at this very moment, but each with a very different future. These days, I am so aware that Lorelei is now so aware, and will be able to remember some of these days for decades to come. In the first few years of her life I realized that memory was more of a feeling, just knowing that she was beloved and admired and cherished created an aura of a memory that, hopefully, will be a good foundation for the rest of her memories both in this house and beyond. And here is Carmen, who is currently at the twilight of her journey, who might be able to remember random things--hopefully incredibly wonderful highlights of her incredible and often wonderful life--but not always specifics. Hopefully her memory at this point is like an infants--a warm, secure feeling, rather than specific anything. For me, it is just a crazy thing to even attempt to wrap my head around.

But Mem Fox, through this book, somehow does it. Mem Fox says "I decided to write a book that might bring children and the elderly together in the hope that teachers would initiate the inter-generational contact." (Check out the story of how she wrote it and who the characters represent.) I am in awe that she was able to bring such grace and wisdom to Miss Alice, and such sweet naivety and gentleness to Wilfred Gordon in such few words, with beautiful, somehow floating illustrations by Julia Vivas. Bravo. I can only hope that some spirit or magic is passed between my little Lorelei and the grand Carmen somehow, someway.