Without a shadow of a doubt, when "A Brother's Journey" hit the shelves, it was a literary product of it's time. In a 2005 Radio Four interview with Richard Pelzer, "Women's Hour" began it's feature with a brief introduction of what, at the time, was termed "hot property" - the somewhat "curious phenomena" of child abuse. In February of that year, the "Best-Seller" list alone contained FIVE novels documenting abuse: covering sexual assault from a step-father, a mother with Munchausen Syndrome (by proxy), a battle with anorexia, a psychologist's view-point and the immovable novel written by Richard's brother - the legendary "A Child Called It". It wasn't just the radio stations that picked up on the surprisingly wide-appeal of the genre, the national tabloids were also quick to recognise this growing obsession with a subject that was becoming more and more popular - despite it previously being so stigmatised. Many questioned "why" people read books that are, by their very nature alone, never truly "enjoyable". It was suggested that some of us are motivated to read these books out of a sense of "guilty relief" - recognising that no matter what happens in our lives, there is always someone out there that is worse off than we are. For some of us, the appeal lies in a sense of amazement and disbelief that these things can actually happen to living, breathing human beings: for others, the need to read stems from a sense of satisfaction gained from the victory of the underdog - as Alexandra Pringle, the publisher of Judith Kelly's "Rock Me Gently" points out, people "...want to think that you can make your way against tremendous odds". Various sociologists concluded that the motivation behind reading these books is much more sinister - that we do it out of a curiosity and overwhelming sense of fear: as one reviewer pointed out, "In times of high anxiety, guilt is always on the rise. We should not forget that our society idealises the role of the family and especially creates the myth of the perfect mother. Idealised figures can, however, quickly become perceived as evil". In other words, we open the book to compare ourselves to the aforementioned matriach, worrying constantly that we share certain characteristics, or indulge in certain actions, that could be misconstrued as "child-abuse". In a world of post-9/11, Jerry Springer-esque, "Reality TV", some have suggested that it is the maccabre fascination of the voyeur that forces us to open the pages to such horrific stories. Having created a culture of "airing and sharing" our problems, through the grief-sharing experience that was 9/11, "...it's the norm now to talk about the problems in your life - people no longer suffer in silence". Whatever your personal motivation is to try this book, I am certain that if you can overcome it's literary failings, this harrowing and emotional story will touch you to the very depths of your soul.
Briefly, "The story of Dave Pelzer is a legend of our times: the shattering tale of the child called 'It'. When Dave was twelve the police removed him from the household, but the cycle of abuse continued. With Dave's departure, Richard, at the age of nine, became the target for his mother's artillery of insanity: the victim of savage beatings leading to hospitalisation; the boy denied clean clothes; the one who 'deserved' whole bottles of Tabasco sauce poured down his throat. Ultimately, the only way to survive was to escape. As well as evoking the torturous environment in which he lived, Richard B Pelzer recounts how he managed to leave it, and how he arrived at his ultimate destination. For "A Brother's Journey" is a voyage of both body and spirit, one that led Richard to a place of safety, to redemption, and to reconciliation with the whipping boy, who once again, is his brother".
What amazes me about the vast majority of reviews that I have read about this book, is that the reviewer has totally lost sight of the fact that the article is supposed to be, well, a book review - basing their "rating" of the book solely upon their judgements on the author himself. Some reviewers have condemned this book having challenged it's authenticity - suggesting that both Richard and David grossly exaggerated ther plight. This is argument has been expounded by those who believe that this novel was deliberately written (and subsequently published) AFTER Cathy's death, so she was unable to exercise her right to reply. Other's have pointed at the denial of Ruth Jones (Richard's grandmother) and Stephen Pelzer (his brother) that these events took place - suggesting that the books belong more in the fiction section of the library, than the factual. For those of you who are inclined to agree with these beliefs, or those of you who wonder "why" nothing was done to help Richard if the abuse he suffered was so well-known, please bear in mind that Stephen has, on record, recanted back and forth over his series of events, that Ruth is likely to be providing a sense of protection for her shamed-daughter and that, thirty years ago, people were very reluctant to be the first to point the accusatory finger when it came to child abuse (N.B. Even when David was taken away from his childhood home by the police, the situation was never fully addressed due to a breakdown in communication between Richard's "lower" and "middle" schools). Some reviewers have gone so far as to berate his novel on the basis of the "fact" that he is apparently jumping on his brother's band-wagon. Ironically, Richard is the first to admit he wrote this book for "selfish" reasons - but that is not to mistake "selfish" for "financial". Richard saw this book as a vehicle, not only for closure on his own story, but to show those who have suffered a similar ordeal that it is possible to undergo the journey from "little boy" (or girl) to "responsible, normal person". Capitalising of his brother's success was never his intention - had it been (and this is a point expounded by Richard himself) he wouldn't have waited ten years after the publication of his brother's book to "cash in". For those of you who believe that Richard is merely replicating David's account, note that the two stories are virtually "mutually exclusive" in so far as the cycle of abuse would have been merely linear had David not "escaped" in the first place.
I am also astounded by the fact that some reviewers criticised the book on the basis of Richard's treatment of David in childhood. Whilst, I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, suggesting the book is a five-star read, given it's repetivitveness, inability to engage and unintentional cataloguing of abuse (Richard specifically set out NOT to merely document the abuse) nor I am suggesting that what Richard did was right; what I am suggesting, however, is that Richard's brave self-descriptive "willingness" to be his mother's partner in abuse implies a "choice" in agreement - a "choice", that in reality, simply was not there.
Ironically, the real tragedies of the book lie in the story that is never implicitly revealed through the novel. It is a real shame (and I mean that genuinely) that Cathy was never made to take responsibility for her actions, despite Richard's attempts to install a sense of situational ownership into her. Just prior to her death, he tried to talk to his mother about what she had done. Yet years of alcohol has taken their toll, and she simply could not (or would not) remember what had gone on. For me, the real heart-break lies in the fact, that even now, Richard still feels an underlying sense of loyalty to the woman that hurt him for so long. In reality, there is no justification for what happened, no motivation for what his mother did or insight into why she did it. Despite that, in the afore-mentioned Radio Four interview, he still found it necessary to "defend" (I use this term very carefully) his mother's actions by implying that the burden of becoming a parent to five boys so close in age (thereby interupting her social life) and the fact that a long and happy marriage did not materialise, eventually became "too much for her", forcing her to seek an outlet, someone to blame, for the way in which things turned out. Right up until the day of publication it would seem, Richard was still able to raise something positive about the woman who had been so fundamentally negative.
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