There comes a time in every person's life when you realise that your parents are only human, that revelatory second when you discover that they are not the giants that you always assumed them to be. It's that moment when you learn that they are in fact just as flawed as everyone else.
Sarah Pinborough does a wonderful job of tapping directly into that sensation. As the family history is explored it is easy to draw parallels between the impending loss of the father and other traumatic events in the past. Old forgotten feelings of anger, grief and impotence resurface and the siblings are forced confront feelings long since buried.
The thing that really struck me about The Language of Dying is that this is an intensely personal story. There is a sense of near voyeurism as you experience the innermost thoughts and feelings of a woman watching her father slowly die and her family drift apart. The writing is so strong that at times throughout the narrative, I felt as though I was genuinely intruding on another person's life.
The relationships between the brothers and sisters, their insecurities, are all laid bare. Though their father may not have been the best parent in the world, he is undoubtedly the lynch-pin of their family unit. The sense that they will all suffer greatly at his loss is palpable.
Effective and subtly affecting this is a beautiful, sometimes harrowing, story that deals with the most devastating of life's experiences in a delicate and thoughtful manner. Anyone who has ever lost a family member or friend, will appreciate the sense of catharsis that Pinborough captures in her writing. There is every possibility that you will be able to relate to the stories darker moments as well.