One of the greatest fears that one can face in life is memory loss. The idea of everything being upturned due to some cognitive issues can create a horrifying consequence not only for those who are experiencing it, but those around them. In Lisa Genova's "Still Alice," she explores this perspective from an especially tragic standpoint, in which Alice experiences an early on-set Alzheimer's diagnosis and finds a ticking clock forming. There's little she can do to resolve the issue, instead of finding most of the novel an attempt to cope. It's a novel of a life uprooted, in desperate need of some miracle. With a clinical approach that explores it from a tender and loving angle, the novel is a beautiful look into a life slipping away without disappearing. The trick is to hold onto it and cherish the moments while one can.
One of Genova's greatest accomplishments in "Still Alice" is her ability to emphasize that her protagonist is one of the more unsuspecting people. Little should suggest that she was capable of getting Alzheimer's, but it is quickly clear how cruel biology can be. As a university professor with a healthy lifestyle, her midlife is going well until it isn't. It starts with small lapses in memory, making one able to doubt that anything is wrong. Maybe she's just preoccupied with too many thoughts. In a macular sense, Genova is packing the early pages with establishment that counterbalance the life that was with allusions to the life that will be.
She has a loving family who even then aren't ready for the sacrifices that are about to occur. As it becomes clear that things are sliding from good to worse, they seek doctors' help, doing everything they can to put her on experimental treatments and group meetings that will connect her with resources. There is that wing and a prayer that shines through the supporting cast, desiring things to change. But they don't. It only gets worse. Along with Alice's own frustration, the author spends some time pondering their perspective, their quiet frustration as they try to avoid just shaking her. The insecurity is subtle but obvious. The fear of losing such an important figure in their life creates a simmering sadness that perpetually exists on the backburner. Still, the underlying sense of hope drives the story and the audience's hopes. After all, Alice is too young to have Alzheimer's, right?
Along with perfectly capturing the emotional side of the issue, Genova has clearly done her research. She focuses on the difficult conversations, finding treatments getting full pages while various preventative measures are used as plot devices, doing everything to keep Alice safe. The only issue is that one has to remember to do them, and that becomes more and more an issue. There's a slide into minimalism, where Alice becomes less attached to the world around her, constantly sliding into a more juvenile side. Even then, there's a delicacy to everything that the story doesn't exist as sensationalistic or cautionary. It's more of a tool used to make these stories more accessible, to deplete the taboos surrounding the themes. In that way, the novel feels useful as more than an emotionally eviscerating experience, allowing the clinical side to be complimentary while helping many to cope with potential struggles in their own families.
On its surface, "Still Alice" is a simple, straightforward story that ends exactly how one expects. Even then, that doesn't remove any of the emotional weight that comes with the read. The experiences feel so real and the tragedy of a fragile existence ultimately makes one concerned. It's easy to relate to every character, desiring to see things turn around. Like the best of fiction, there is a desire to doubt the inevitable, to try and find ways to perform a miracle. This time is not one of those, and yet the ending isn't full of tragedy. Yes, Alice is a different person now and there's no idea how her later life will turn out, but what is present is a connection to the audience that will hopefully make them feel less alone if they know someone suffering from Alzheimer's. So much of the narrative mixes emotion with facts in a way that is admirable and, as a result, creates one of a uniquely endearing and substantial reads.
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