By definition, a memoir is always going to be a little self-indulgent. But what I enjoyed about Debbianne’s book is the way she sets about telling her story like a friend updates you after an extended break. You get the whole saga – good, bad and warts and all. What friends always do, as Debbianne does, is balance the story with commonsense and humour – bucket loads of it.
To begin with, her hyper writing left me breathless and I fought to keep up, but once in her groove I was at her shoulder, flexing with her energetic prose.
A big question mark seemed to hang over Debbianne – she sought the answers through some honest and hysterical means, mostly spiritual. Some worked, some didn’t – most just moved her on to another American town and more questions.
And that’s the key – she’s definitely a free spirit and the constraints of any structured studying were clearly at odds with her sparky personality.
Debbianne’s quest to become a clairvoyant, to experience life-changing moments of spirituality, was fascinating to read. But I concluded that her life itself is the big experience. The author has lived through some difficult periods and come through them all – stronger, wiser? Only she can answer that – maybe there should always be a question mark?