The last two chapters of Dominique Browning's memoir Slow Love prove she's a talented writer. They're poetic, original, descriptive, wistful and hopeful. A true joy to read.
However, if I hadn't promised to finish reading her memoir before writing this review for the BlogHer Book Club, I would have tossed it aside after the first few chapters because of unnecessary details, a confusing timeline, and my own pure frustration.
Editor-in-chief of House & Garden magazine when it folded in 2007, Browning was also mired in a longterm relationship with a legally-separated man who refused to leave his wife. Despite the explanations and excuses Browning offers, I couldn't understand how someone her age at her level of success didn't wave goodbye to him long before.
Slow Love describes her depression and journey back to the surface, but as much as I wanted to, I had a tough time finding sympathy for her. For one thing, losing her job didn't throw her into the financial crisis it would so many others. She was very fortunate.
But perhaps I couldn't identify with her because I've been in a constant state of employment transition for more than thirty years and never based my self-worth on any of my jobs. Perhaps it's because I learned decades ago that a woman doesn't need a man to be "complete", that you can't change people or depend on them for your happiness.
Perhaps I'm the fortunate one, after all.
Long Hollow 
Leave a reply to Barbara Shallue Cancel reply