The first page of The Full Catastrophe is an ominous paragraph-long sentence describing the loss of the author’s eldest son, Eric, which sets the tone for the rest of the book. In this memoir about loss, author Casey Mulligan Walsh wants readers to consider how to live through and beyond grief, how to belong fully to family, and how to love when we are afraid of further loss. Mulligan Walsh illustrates that when we operate out of fear to shield ourselves from pain, we will miss out on authentic connection. She writes, “True belonging requires me to be myself, embrace my gifts and struggles, and share them without fear.” In other words, by operating out of fear to try and protect ourselves from conflict and loss, we will miss out on fully experiencing life.

The Full Catastrophe is broken into five chronological sections which make the narrative easy to follow and effectively highlight the narrator’s internal growth. The sections explore Mulligan Walsh’s childhood, the beginning of her first marriage, the challenges in that marriage, the loss of Eric as a young adult, and the aftermath. Mulligan Walsh begins with a devastating account of her parents’ health issues and deaths before she was twelve. In her loneliness as a young adult, Mulligan Walsh meets and marries Will, whose family seemingly accepts her. During their marriage, she and Will have three children: Eric, Kyle, and Kate.

Mulligan Walsh’s reflections about motherhood masterfully connect to her own mother’s love. Early on, she recounts times with her mother: “Evenings, when she hugged me in the kitchen and rubbed my back, every inch of my body knew I was loved.” Warm memories like this caused me to relive my own mother’s hugs and reassurances through happy adventures, growing pains, and disappointments. These recollections also powerfully transition into Mulligan Walsh becoming a mother who wants to share the same love with her children. When discussing how this desire leads to conflict, I was particularly caught by the description, “The transition has been gradual, from Mom as protector to Mom as obstacle.” Mulligan Walsh is often forced to play the role of law enforcer with her children because her husband refuses to align with her on schoolwork or even safety. Knowing about Eric’s death makes the bumpy relationship all the more difficult to read, but these disagreements make Mulligan Walsh’s portrayal of motherhood multi-dimensional.

To create this at turns warm and then devastating narrative, Mulligan Walsh’s writing style is economical, conversational, and reflective. She avoids dense prose and instead saves metaphors and complex sentence structures for when they will be most impactful. While describing her dedication to remaining married to Will despite their ever-growing differences, Mulligan Walsh writes:

Determination, I see now, is not always a positive quality. It can spur you to great things. It can also make you blind, unable to see when enough is simply enough. Yet I'm unwilling to be the one to blame for blowing apart the family I've spent my adult life fighting to hold together. No, I reason when I can bring myself to think about it, I’ll work a while and we'll get our feet on the ground. When we're in a more stable position financially, when Eric is set with college, then maybe Will and I can find a way to part on civil terms.

Being able to see the growth in the narrator through the increasingly complex reflections creates a continuously compelling narrative. Mulligan’s habit of mixing shorter sentences with profound complex ones keeps the pace and rhythm of the narrative engaging.

Beyond her effective writing style, The Full Catastrophe is also captivating because of an unexpected but vital thread on the pursuit of empathy without a loss of self. At various points, Mulligan Walsh recounts her mother-in-law’s defense of Will even when he is clearly unwell and harming his family. Admittedly, as a reader, I found myself villainizing the mother-in-law and Will for their toxic behavior. Yet, Mulligan Walsh challenges this perception by reflecting, “What I couldn’t see was how fear could explain the things that others did that hurt me and those I loved, that most of the things other people do are not about me.” She refuses to create one-dimensional antagonists who hinder her from achieving her desires. By providing compassionate reminders, Mulligan Walsh encourages us to contextualize others as whole people.

Although she demonstrates compassion, Mulligan Walsh’s refusal to sacrifice her individuality for those who hurt her ensures there are protective limits to understanding. These people remain in her life because they must, not because her empathy is a reason to forget their behavior. Contextualizing their behavior helps the narrator process the pains they have inflicted and how people she loves can make hurtful decisions. Readers can consider whether this fits into their path to moving through the grief others have caused them. The Full Catastrophe pursues belonging and the grieving process. Within these inexhaustible topics, Mulligan Walsh shows readers a way to travel through their own catastrophes of love and loss.