Stargazing in Solitude by Suzanne Samples

Book Review by Amanda Morris

A book that begins with the preface “Spoiler alert: I’m still fucking alive” is going to be raw, unvarnished, and probably funny. Stargazing in Solitude, Suzanne Samples’ follow-up memoir to her debut Frontal Matter: Glue Gone Wild, does not disappoint.

Suzanne cracks herself open to dig out her truth with as much precision and care as her brain surgeon used to crack open her skull to remove as much of her glioblastoma as possible. Like her surgeon, she is focused, practical in her observations–both of herself and of the people around her–and passionate about figuring out what comes next after being diagnosed with the deadliest form of brain cancer. She weaves together anecdotes that make a reader smile and even chuckle at the antics–that is when her mastery of memoir becomes evident. At the moment she has the reader laughing with her, she gut punches the reader with her brutal honesty and a sharp insight that cuts to the heart, such as early in the story when she is joke-reminiscing with her sister at a NYC bar amidst pink flamingos and pina coladas –as if they are retirees in Florida – and follows with: “It doesn’t escape me that this might be the closest thing to retirement I will ever get.”

More than once, Suzanne writes about not expecting to live as long as she has, and she shares her confusion over how to live in this strange, uncomfortable liminal space. Despair, self-doubt, and depression link up with love, humor, and a need to get on with life that drives this memoir forward at an almost-frenetic pace, as if she were sitting across from the reader slinging the stories and witty asides and painful realities like an asteroid shower. The urgency of some sections leaves the reader breathless–not unlike how Suzanne herself feels in her daily life.

And yet, it is clear as she evolves from not wanting any more MRIs, or craniotomies, or chemo (“I do not want any other memories like those”) to a space that starts to resemble acceptance and even, at moments, hope (“I am still alive. I am still upright. I am still moving, even if the boat is rocking”), that writing and relationships keep Suzanne going.

While this is a book paced to read in a single sitting, the gravity of the many revealed truths begs the reader to slow down and take one’s time. Suzanne pulls back all of the curtains on what it’s like to live in the aftermath of a brain cancer diagnosis, post-surgery, post-therapy, post-“normal” life. Suzanne strips herself bare emotionally and in specific terms, leaving the reader doubtless about her struggles, her feelings and fears, her hopes and concerns. And through the entire journey, her wicked sense of humor and unapologetically raw perspective remain intact. This is a memoir that will have readers laughing and feeling devastated within the space of a sentence. 

Amanda Morris is a professor of English at Kutztown University, where she also serves as a delegate for the faculty union, APSCUF. She also serves on the Pennsylvania State System of Higher Education Faculty Council. She is passionate about her work, her garden, and her fam.