I hate novels where parenthood is questioned, simply because all too often I find myself thinking, “Well, I would never do THAT.” So I have to do the whole wood-knocking routine and hope not only to invite divine retribution for being too critical. This is what happened with the novel My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult. After reading the summary of the novel, I knew that I would never make the decisions that the parents shown did. After reading the novel, I wondered what I could really do if my son faced death.
In case you missed the summary, My Sister’s Keeper is the story of Anna, a thirteen-year-old girl genetically conceived to be a match for her leukemia-positive sister. Within minutes of her birth, she was a donor to Kate, sharing her umbilical cord blood to save her sister’s life. When she is thirteen, when the novel is developed, she has been in the hospital almost as long as Kate, donating things like blood and bone marrow. After being asked to donate a kidney, he seeks legal emancipation from his parents. And so the story begins.
One of the things that bothered me was the chapter-by-chapter change of view. It handled very well, and once I got past the irritation stage, I had to admit that it helped move the story forward. And so we passed through the minds of Anna, her attorney, her court-appointed guardian ad litem, her brother, her father, and her mother; in short, everyone who is close to Anna except her sister. Each of these perspectives occurs in the present, with the notable exception of his mother. Instead, we traced the mother’s path to find out that her daughter has leukemia and what decisions led her (and Anna) to the present moment. This was also initially annoying, but it turned out to be a good choice; I’m not sure it would have had the same impact if we just had the mother looking back. It would have been so much easier to judge her in that moment than to see her experience her pain.
In fact, it was from Sara’s perspective that I learned the most and questioned myself. If my little daughter, the light of my life, were threatened with death, how far would I go to save her? Honestly, I don’t think the idea of conceiving a child specifically for that purpose would have even occurred to me, but what do you do once the idea is planted? Also, it’s clear that Sara loves and appreciates Anna, even as she incessantly cares for Katie. It is true that he neglects her, but he also neglects his son, who had been born before the diagnosis, and focuses most of his attention on his sick son. And while this also made me judgmental, it also made me wonder: could I balance my attention on all of my children if one was battling a lifelong illness? How easy would it be to make small decisions that hurt others to save yourself?
In short, I hated this well-written, well-developed, and well-crafted book because it made me think. My moral and religious side rejects the notion of a test-tube baby conceived for a specific purpose, but the mother in me wonders. If my son was starving, how easy would it be to stay true to my moral perspectives and not steal (assuming, of course, that the government was not there to save me)? If someone threatened my child, how far would I go to protect him? In short, when the moment of truth comes, how faithful would I remain?
To fall asleep, I have to make sure that of course I will be perfect in all things. And then hit hard on the nearest wood, and pray that you never have to find out.