Mary Loudon's memoir of her late sister's life is intensely personal. The author does not flinch from graphic detail, she visits the places her sister used to go, the cafés she is supposed to have eaten at, sifts through her paintings, music and letters, seeks out the people she turned to for support, and yet Catherine's personality and substance evades us, even in death. The memoir gives rise to the question whether it is possible to ever know anybody else, even one's own sister.
Mary Loudon resolutely concentrates on her own reactions, she chats with Catherine's nurses, doctor, social worker, newsagent to build a picture of who her sister was. The great achievement is that far from reading like a standard biography, date of birth, place or birth, list of things done, a collage of other people's cuttings, etc., it is the things that preoccupy Mary herself, as Catherine's baby sister, in the immediate weeks after Catherine's death that focuses our attention.
Mary Loudon examines her own and others' apparent callousness in reaction to news of Catherine's death, given Catherine's self-selected isolation from her family and community owing to her schizophrenia, which has thrown her into a world of seemingly incomprehensible paranoia and 'madness'. Mary's description of Catherine's flat is horrific, and the reader shares with Mary the need to comprehend what lies behind the 'madness' of it all, the isolation and the illness. We share Mary's momentary fury that 'they' should have done more for Catherine, whilst at the same time acknowledging that Catherine's own wishes were being respected, not least by her own family. That Catherine came from a normal, kind family - reflected in the personal journals of Catherine's GP father, who went to India personally to find her, but refused to force her or lie to her to return to England - makes the sad story all the more poignant. It made me reflect on all the 'mad' and lonely people one sees tramping around the streets of London, many of them well-spoken, and wonder, who are they? Are they like Catherine? Do they have loving families and friends that they have cut off from their lives because of the ravages of schizophrenia? What can be done for them?
The book gave me enormous food for thought because it made me consider my own community as well as give an insight into how to write a skilful memoir with immense power, without ever falling into sentimentalism, romantism, prurience, nor glossing over hard unpalatable truths, not least about ourselves and our own reactions towards the insane, and our own fears surrounding the issues. A very complex book written simply and beautifully.