THE ORDER OF THINGS

In Gormley’s memoir, a successful executive returns home to care for her mother and, eventually, herself.

After growing up in Ohio, the author’s career in marketing took her to the heights of the corporate ladder; she had fabulous apartments in glamorous cities like New York, Chicago, and San Francisco, but she also found herself on the edge of a nervous breakdown: “I thought I might get fired. I needed to quit.…My job was not my life, but I couldn’t figure out what my life was without my job.” That sentiment would change in an instant when she received the call informing her that her mother had cancer—only one year after losing her father. Without hesitation, Gormley left her high-powered executive job at Adobe to take on a “grown-up gap year” in which she would care for her mother back in Ohio. As Gormley recounts the year spent taking her mother to doctor’s appointments, each with more depressing diagnoses than the last, she also delves into her own psychological issues. Since she was a child, Gormley strived for “gold stars,” achievements that ranged from straight-A report cards to promotions to obsessive calorie-counting. With the time off of work and the help of some long-distance therapy sessions, Gormley was finally able to confront some of the origins of these issues and even start to prepare for a new life with the handsome cousin of a neighbor, Camillus Musselman. (“Who falls in love when their mother is dying?” she asks herself, but Camillus’ charm was too great to resist.) Gormley soon found herself on a new path that would lead to owning an art gallery in Ohio and continuing the work of “untangling” herself from the memories of her beloved, late mother—which, as she says, is “something I will keep doing for the rest of my life.”

Gormley’s style makes inventive fun of the concise, corporate messaging from her former career; pivotal scenes and emotional revelations become bullet-pointed lists or simple, choppy declarations. It’s a rhythm that feels specific and refreshing, bringing a punchy and enjoyable tone to her heavy subject matter. She also has an eye for peculiar and unexpected details, crafting imagery that stays with readers long after her book is over, including playful descriptions of her boyfriend's wrists (a body part she never expected to be attracted to); the haunting death rattle sound that signaled the ends of both of her parents’ lives; or the sharp contours of her hip bones jutting out of the bath, a marker of her “progress” in staying thin (just one of the many effective ways she conveys an array of powerful emotions around her history with anorexia). No matter the weight of the subject, Gormley maintains a steady sense of humor—she and her mother have hilarious repartee even in the darkest moments, and there are plenty of corporate gags peppered throughout (like her recipe for “Martha-Stewart-Fired-Me Cookies”). This keen eye and quick wit tie the memoir’s different themes, from self-help introspection to family tragedy, together into one cohesive whole.

A distinctive voice delivers an entertaining and insightful look at family and mental health.