Henderson’s writing will pull at your every heart string. She is raw, emotional, vulnerable. Through it all, she allows herself to be wholly human.

... incredible.

A relentlessly visceral memoir.

Henderson brings a novelist’s sensibility to this memoir of her 20-year marriage and the chronic illness of her husband Aaron; she weaves their history with measured prose and emotion in alternating strands.

... a meticulously detailed, often grueling account of Aaron’s decade-long battle with a bewildering assortment of mental and physical ailments that would test the limits of even the healthiest union and reveals medicine’s frustrating inability to address some intractable conditions.

It is impossible to know or judge a marriage you are not part of.

... enthralling and devastating.

Henderson’s work is most definitely the story of a marriage, and in its searing specificity it may even get at larger truths about marriage as an experience and institution. But this is no typical case study. Her revelations upend the pretty pictures and easy confessions of Instagram, of popular song.

Henderson is self-aware enough to understand that her behavior has been sometimes codependent, and her prose is all fine turns of phrase with the rawest of nerve endings. The sole fault of the book is that it runs too long, with some repetition, and could have benefited from judicious trimming.

... surprisingly bland.