A Heart That Works
4.7 4.7 out of 5 stars | 2,463 ratings
Price: 18.42
Last update: 11-16-2024
About this item
New York Times bestseller * The New Yorker Best Books of 2022 * Entertainment Weekly Best Books of 2022 * USA Today Best Books of 2022 * Time 100 Must-Read Books of 2022 * Mother Jones Books We Needed in 2022 * People Fall Must Read * 2022 BuzzFeed Fall Reading pick
A visceral and deeply personal memoir by the star of the Amazon Prime series Catastrophe, about love, loss, and fatherhood.
In 2016, Rob Delaney’s one-year-old son, Henry, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The family had moved from Los Angeles to London with their two young boys when Rob’s wife was pregnant with Henry, their third. The move was an adventure and a challenge that would bind them even more tightly together as they navigated the novelty of London, the culture clashes, and the funhouse experience of Rob’s fame—thanks to his role as co-creator and co-star of the hit series Catastrophe. Henry’s illness was a cataclysm that changed everything about their lives. Amid the hospital routine, surgeries, and brutal treatments, they found a newfound community of nurses, aides, caregivers, and fellow parents contending with the unthinkable. Two years later, Henry died, and his family watched their world fall away to reveal the things that matter most.
A Heart That Works is Delaney’s intimate, unflinching, and fiercely funny exploration of what happened–from the harrowing illness to the vivid, bodily impact of grief and the blind, furious rage that followed through to the forceful, unstoppable love that remains. In the madness of his grief, Delaney grapples with the fragile miracle of life, the mysteries of death, and the question of purpose for those left behind. Delaney’s memoir—profound, painful, full of emotion, and bracingly honest—offers solace to those who have faced devastation and shows us how grace may appear even in the darkest times.
Top reviews from the United States
thank you Mr. Delaney for sharing your Henry with us. he was beautiful, and I know this because you described his beauty in such a visceral, tangible way. thank you for making us acknowledge that he died, but also understand that he lived, and that he was so, so loved. every emotion in this book is so palpable. I did not personally know his beautiful son, but this book has made me feel as if I did, and I will remember him always.
for those who may be hesitant to read this book for varying reasons, I encourage you to be brave. I think Mr. Delaney was so brave to write this, and we owe it to him and the memory of Henry to be brave enough to read it.
Reviewed in the United States on December 1, 2022
thank you Mr. Delaney for sharing your Henry with us. he was beautiful, and I know this because you described his beauty in such a visceral, tangible way. thank you for making us acknowledge that he died, but also understand that he lived, and that he was so, so loved. every emotion in this book is so palpable. I did not personally know his beautiful son, but this book has made me feel as if I did, and I will remember him always.
for those who may be hesitant to read this book for varying reasons, I encourage you to be brave. I think Mr. Delaney was so brave to write this, and we owe it to him and the memory of Henry to be brave enough to read it.
At others, the constant appending of "sweet" or "beautiful" to every mention of any of his sons, the implication that they were all absolutely perfect and had no flaws or problematic behaviors ever, and the constant references to how much he wanted to kiss their cheeks, and the cheeks of his niece, etc., swamped the story in sentimentality.
The book partly redeems itself near the end, when he courageously confronts his and his wife's decision to stop treatment that would cause his son more suffering and probably kill him., but then the author pulls back and says he's not going to tell us about the moments immediately before or immediately after his son's death. After all the opening of his heart and his wounds and his love about all manner of things throughout the book and his openness about preparing for his son's death,, I felt this was almost dishonest.
I've had the pleasure of messing around on Twitter with Rob Delaney a few times, as his absurd, pungent humor is infectious. His honest, odd, silly, acidic, and ridiculous comedic takes are hard to look away from, and his self-deprecating style is delicious. He's been something of a behemoth on Twitter, at least in the comedic realm, for years, and I've relished any/all interactions with him. I know he's a recovering addict, that he loves ham, loves to read, enjoys Sludge metal, as do I, along with great books, and I also know that he tragically lost his young son to a brain tumor a few years back. What I didn't know is how inexplicably Rob is able to feel. How deeply human, loving, and kind he is. I also didn't know that he's lived what I'd categorize as the greatest love story of all time with his wife, Leah. They are the couple that others don't simply envy because they've lasted so long and are sweet to one another more than the next, but the couple people fear because of what they've endured and yet still feel/act this way. They're the couple that illuminates our relationships and forces us to reconcile what love really is and how honest and real our bonds may (or may not), be. They are Nick and Nora from The Thin Man, gingerly rolled in Montague and Capulet, spritzed with Henry and Clare from The Time Traveler's Wife. Little Henry lived his too-short life far happier, and more deeply cared for because of their formidable, resplendent bond.
A Heart That Works is a book that destroys part of you while simultaneously revitalizing something you didn't know you possessed. I immediately developed an understanding of grief in ways I hadn't fully understood but thought I had. This book rips at you, slowly, before instantly eviscerating you, and then it holds you in the comfort of its truth and reassembles you, only to shatter you once again. Something more beautiful comes out in the collected, restitched pieces.
Finishing this book made me cry like I haven't in years, and it was glorious, truly. I shed many tears when my father died on Christmas day ten years ago, but over time I've stifled them, grown more callous, hardened, and reserved. Why? One of the central messages of A Heart That Works is Rob reminding me (and everyone) how wonderful it is to feel. To have loved someone, experienced them, laughed with them, touched them, eventually to lose them, and immediately realize how much more significant they were than we even knew. This book is a gift. A "soul kiss" as my father used to say. It needs delicate hands and soft eyes, and will sting you over and over. You'll be better for the wounds.
I can't imagine little Henry having anyone but Rob, his wife, their family, and the numerous caregivers he had around him. I can't begin to comprehend the magnitude of grief on this level, and of course I feel for Rob as any decent human would, but I also admire him. In a world where emotions, feelings, and pain, especially from a man's perspective, are often suppressed (or shunned when displayed), Rob says, "F that x infinity" and puts it all out there on the page, holding nothing back. It's absolutely beautiful to see. He's right to love the sight of others breaking down in tears after hearing his story; it's where the essence of the human experience lies. There's no value in holding back, filtering, or diluting. This book made me an unglued, sloppy mess for a solid hour and I have nothing but gratitude to Rob for it. Thank you.
I'm sorry about your boy, Rob. Love you, man.
This personal story of heartbreak and loss is alternately told with the victory of what pure love can do to sustain us.
Love is the only thing that grounds us in this life and humor reminds us to breathe.
So with this book, you laugh, you cry, you grow.
Your mind expands or it caves in on itself. Up to you.