If the dead are never safely dead, and the past never past, the beauty of Tasha is in Morton’s very struggle to get Tasha right on the page, once and for all. With humility and grace, he tells us that he has failed his mother by not seeing her as a full and complete person, one with great courage, complexity and strength. But it is a gift of mature adulthood — and perhaps the work of writing memoir — to see our parents as people who exist outside of their centrality in our lives.

[A] bracing account.

... superb.

... a beautifully rendered story of filial love that paints a vivid portrait of both its subject and its author.

Morton's novels all have in common a calm, caring voice that imbues the prose with a wry, pained tenderness, as if shaking its head at the human folly it describes. That same voice sustains this memoir.

...hilarious yet tender.

A biography wrapped in a memoir.

A son's loving and hard reflection of his mother.

Morton has an appealing style and shares his challenges...with a dose of humor and self-deprecation. He’s also honest about his hesitancy to bring his mother into his own home and his own feelings of inadequacy. This is a personal story, but anyone facing the same challenges will be nodding along in agreement..

Unstinting yet tender.

The author’s revised portrayal of Tasha is both comic and tender. He recounts frustrating, absurd conversations.