This is a collection of essays beautifully woven together to form Sandra Lambert’s memoir. Sandra is a writer, outdoorswoman, kayaking camper, bookmaker, weaver, environmentalist and activist. Having contracted Polio in early childhood, she tells her story with humour, poignancy and an honesty that floored me.

I’ve been trying to write this review for two days now and I really don’t seem to be getting anywhere. The reason is that this memoir has affected me and I don’t know how to express what it has made me feel without opening up. I write sentences then delete them because they seem tacky and shallow so let me start by saying that I chose to read it because I liked the cover and title. The description sounded interesting and, while I very rarely read non-fiction or biographies, it’s about a lesbian so if nothing else, at least I can relate to that. What I wasn’t prepared for was the emotional engagement. Because my words are lacking here are a few excerpts that struck me.

I was immensely irritated at the thoughtlessness of strangers when she’s accosted in the laundromat:
“’My niece, poor thing – it’s a tragedy for her parents really.
She’s afflicted like you. It’s a miracle the way you do for yourself like this, and I’m going to tell them I saw you. It’ll give them a little hope. Now my brother’s wife, she’s a saint.’”
But I also realised that I’ve probably been guilty of the same runaway mouth and insensitivity. Then I shook my head in disbelief that someone who works with people in wheelchairs could even think this:
“The man who fitted my wheelchair, as he kneeled in front of me to check the length of my thighs, should his head, tsked, and told me that I should try not to become lazy. I grabbed the wheels and wondered if it would break his nose if I snapped the wheelchair forward.”
And I was absolutely rooting for the wheelchair to be snapped forward.

There is also a lot of humour and one passage reminded me so much of the awkwardness I had as a child of having to dispose of sanitary towels:
“Instead of the privacy of the narrow hallway, my mother instructed me to wrap the used pad in toilet paper and slip it to her in the kitchen. She was appalled when I tried, in front of my grandfather, father, and sister, to discreetly hand her something that was almost the size of a shoebox. I may have overdone the toilet paper.”

The essays are not always chronological but I found I had a good idea of the approximate era by the described method of mobility. Lambert develops post-polio syndrome in her thirties which is degeneration of muscles not affected by the first polio illness, exhaustion with minimal effort and progressive joint weakness and pain. She doesn’t let it hold her back but her sense of humour failure directly correlates to the level of pain she is experiencing.

This is a wonderful and powerful read which has given me hope, and for that I am grateful.

Book received from Netgalley and University of Nebraska Press for an honest review.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Highly recommended read! Thanks for providing through Net Galley. Five Stars *****

Sandra Gail Lambert's "A Certain Loneliness" has some of the loveliest writing about horrible moments. She has great skill at describing her environment, whether in the woods in Norway, the swamps of Florida, or her own internal landscape as she debates the costs of autonomy with a body that polio continues to devastate. The reader comes away with a new understanding *not* of disability (because wow, the arrogance of such a statement) but of the gap that separates the able-bodied from the ability to understand and empathize, and those who must negotiate every movement others take for granted.
Note: this is a collection of essays, I know, but I admit that the mention in the acknowledgements of the "smokin' hot woman" made me wish that at least one of the essays might have described the romance. I can't help being a sucker for a good love story.

I feel incredibly lucky to have a received an electronic copy of this memoir via NetGalley. As a fan of Lambert's fiction and nonfiction, I've looked forward to publication of this book. It has exceeded my expectations.

The memoir shuttles back and forth through time in a way that seems natural and effortless, in much the way that memory itself works. I'd read many of the chapters in the memoir when they were published as essays in journals over the past few years; the arrangement of them into memoir form increases their power. The chapters resonate with one another to create a singular experience of one woman's life. Lambert's specific disappointments, adjustments, longings, and victories are all grounded in the body via astonishingly beautiful prose that reflects her skill as a close observer of nature.

Readers who are able-bodied will learn much from this book about the day-to-day achievements and perspectives of one woman who lives with disability, and that learning is urgently necessary in today's world where access to health care is so precarious, and disabled people are at the forefront of the fight for healthcare for all. That's not to say that Lambert's book can teach able-bodied readers all they need to know about disability. Like all communities, the disability community is diverse. Lambert's vision and experience is unique to her, as are all our lives.

For me, personally, the most affecting parts of the memoir are those that deal with emotional risk, the costs of being in relationship with others, and the bargains made between the mind and the body. It's a brilliant book about the pain and pleasure of being human, about coming to terms with physical limitations in service of a life without limits. Lambert is simply the best memoirist writing today.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2473371010?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

This book is not just a memoir but a look into the life of someone with disabilities that proves that you can do anything if it means something to you. It also show a different perspective of how persons with disabilities are treated. The book is really a wonderful, eye opening look at all the trials that the author has went through to keep her independence. The world has the idea that they need to take that away from people with disabilities instead of helping them keep that independence. At times in the book you do wish that the author would give more details about things but you understand that even the amount that is given is like opening a wound all over again. This book is definitely worth the time to read and to see how it looks from the other side.