COUNTING BACKWARDS

A middle-aged couple contends with dementia.

One day, Addie’s husband comes home and tells her, “You look like my wife, but you are not my wife.” Then he adds, “My wife is prettier than you are.” This pronouncement comes as one in a long line of increasingly erratic behaviors for Leo: What begins with hallucinations leads inexorably to stabbing his nephew with a kitchen knife. Kirshenbaum’s latest novel, which features the same irresistibly bittersweet dry wit as her others, follows Addie’s journey alongside Leo to understanding what’s gone wrong with his mind. It takes them nearly two years to reach a diagnosis: Leo has early-onset Lewy body dementia. In short, vignettelike chapters written in the second person, Kirshenbaum traces Addie’s increasing social isolation, her financial worries, and the many, many different shades of feeling she has for Leo, whom she adores, resents, and misses even as he is (technically) still with her. Kirshenbaum’s use of the second person is so seamless it’s easy to forget about it completely; as a reader, you simply hop into Addie’s shoes and carry on. And if the storyline occasionally sags, that seems to be part of the point: Kirshenbaum is meticulously mapping a segment of life so often stigmatized and associated with shame. At one point, Addie finally tells her best friend, Z, just how bad it’s gotten with Leo. Z’s response is devastating: First he tells Addie how sorry he is, and when she asks why, he says, “Everyone will be talking about how pathetic [Leo] is, and they will pity you and avoid you. No one wants to be around that.” Kirshenbaum’s book is the precise opposite.

An exquisitely nuanced mix of bleak humor and heartrending drama.