Amy Ferris is a very special friend of mine, an important person in my life, but when it comes to writing, I switch into professional mode, my worldview built on a fundamental belief that writers have a higher duty, when picking up the pen, to tell the truth to their audience. So, I trust the review I write here about MIGHTY GORGEOUS, Amy’s soon to be released book, will be taken at face value:“Halfway through MIGHTY GORGEOUS, I took issue with the promotional pitch that this book was a ‘memoir.’ It was, to my mind, a collection of social-media-length essays on how to live a life fully, offering practical (not Pollyannaish) advice and musings on how we can go about our day with a big heart. Well, it turns out I was wrong. What I didn’t factor in was Amy’s considerable talent as a writer. While the individual essays touched me to a more or lesser degree, I found I was, in the end, floored by the sum of the parts, which delivered nothing less than an emotional haymaker. For example, a sweet and lightly dispatched essay about escorting a lonely male friend to the hospital for a medical procedure, gains huge emotional meaning and resonance by the end of the book, when the author produces a virtuoso piece of writing about her father’s final (and tragic) days in a hospital. No preaching – just a real-life lesson in how our personal wounds can later in life be turned into genuine acts of love.
“Men, in particular, should not be put off by the book’s ‘girly’ cover. Amy is a strong-arm feminist who deeply and authentically loves men, flaws and all, and you will be deeply moved and uplifted by the essays where her father and much-loved husband Ken make their appearances. The essay about Amy’s and Ken’s dead apartment refrigerator getting moved, only to reveal all this hidden ‘dreck’ under the surface, is a fantastic piece of writing about the special kind of love that is required to sustain a marriage. Buy this book – it slides down the gullet like a joyously light glass of Sauvignon Blanc, but the resonance of this vintage is deep and lasts long past the last sip is taken.”