by Erin Brubacher
I realized Erin Brubacher was a kindred spirit on page 24 when she has her narrator admit to drawing a heart instead of a cross on her goddaughter’s forehead with the holy water at her baptism (plus she has the same name as my best friend which I know doesn’t mean anything but … yes it does).
This story is told through vignettes. The narrator outlines parts of her adult life: being married and amicably divorced in her 20s, trying for a child in her 40s, and friendships made along the way. For the most part, she uses nicknames to describe others in her life, The Turtle, The Kid, The Gilmore Girl, granting anonymity and blurring the line of fiction.
“…I am feeling too sentimental to joke about beloved ghosts.”
These Songs I Know By Heart, p. 20
Her tone is such a comfort; non-judgemental, honest, earnest. This is a deeply personal account that pulls no punches in talking about love, motherhood, IVF, grief, friendship, step-mothering, and Covid. Though we have next to none of the same life experiences, this all still felt very relatable. It was like listening to someone I’ve looked up to, a big sister or cousin. The narrator invites us into her life without any pretence that makes her instantly amiable.
“I once mistook loving a story for loving a person.”
These Songs I Know By Heart, p. 53
While some of the scenes take place on a camping trip or even through her time living in Europe, large swaths of these recollections take place in Toronto. I love reading books set in my backyard. I love hearing others’ perspectives of this city (and I understand why it’s not always positive). Despite much of the Toronto setting being through Covid, it was still exciting to recognize certain neighbourhoods and the familiarity added another layer of reassurance to the text.
The only character whose name is used is the narrator’s best friend, Alice. They met at a party and since have gone on annual camping trips. I love how female friendship is represented through their relationship. They aren’t always in constant contact or communication but still are always there for each other. I felt this was so much more realistic an example of friendship than what we so often read about in popular fiction. This friendship had ebbs and flows.
“We are all grieving time.”
These Songs I Know By Heart, p. 171
A fictional memoir or not, I truly hope the woman this narrator represents is happy and gets all that she wishes for. If this is Brubacher, partly her or entirely a work of her imagination, it is still someone I couldn’t help but care for, admire even. She is proof that there is no correct order in which to live life, there are no milestones that need to be checked off, and that nothing we do needs to be linear to have meaning.
Thank you so, so much Bookhug Press for sending me this wonderful novel!
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