As the book begins, Gemmell and her brother prepare to identify their mother at the morgue. The tone is intense and immediate, apparently written close to the event: ‘So I write, in an attempt to understand ... I can do nothing else ... right now.’ We follow Gemmell through every stage of this painful journey. She recounts her dealings with various officials and counsellors (mostly female) with gratitude. The memories of a fraught relationship with her mother are harder to confront. Elayn perhaps lacked the gift of motherliness. She was uncompromising in her determination to be true to herself, but had trouble allowing her daughter the same freedom. The decision to end her struggle with unremitting pain without involving her family can be, and is, seen in many different lights: an act of bravery, or a betrayal; selfishness or self-sacrifice. She had consulted Philip Nitschke, so Gemmell contacts him to find out more about her mother’s last wishes. She comes to realise her mother’s solitary death was dictated by Australia’s laws: ‘If the ... family cannot, by law, be involved ... you’re condemning that person to a horrendously bleak and lonely death.’ Gemmell devotes twenty pages of her book to responses to one of her regular newspaper columns, all sharing similar experiences.

Short sentences, short paragraphs and sentence fragments convey Gemmell’s struggle to deal honestly with this distressing subject. After a while, the mannered rhythms of her prose begin to irritate and to leach it of its initial impact.