Innocent Suffering
A Handicapped Child in My Family, by G. Hourdin, Cittadella ed. L.3,500
The Hourdin family seemed blessed by fortune until life dealt them a double blow: the loss of their eldest daughter in a wartime accident, followed by the birth of Marie Anne, a mongoloid child. They found themselves suddenly confronted with the reality of mental handicap.
In simple, deeply felt prose, Georges Hourdin describes the long struggle he and his wife waged—step by step, supported by close friends—to secure a place for Marie Anne within the human community. He lays bare both the joys and sorrows of their journey, while posing urgent questions that their suffering forced upon them: What is the order of the world? Where does suffering originate? What life does our society offer to those marked by such inequality?
This is no manifesto. The author, respectful of those who know such hardship, speaks honestly about living with Marie Anne's presence. He hides neither the nights of anguish nor the glimmers of hope. He exposes his fear for her future: the community opens its doors to her, yet Marie Anne wants to marry.
Hourdin acknowledges a crucial truth: love alone could not have guided his daughter's education. They needed—and were fortunate to find—skilled professionals alongside their devotion. They had the will, then the luck, to locate such help. And they plead that all children and young people like Marie Anne should have access to it. This is the reflection of a tender, wounded man whose faith allows him to glimpse hope even in the depths of sorrow.
The Courage to Live
Alain Lefranc, Gribaudi ed. L.1,800
At nineteen, a senseless diving accident in shallow water changes everything. Alain moves from a life of vitality into pain and near-total immobility—all four limbs paralyzed, confined to a hospital bed.
Gradually, painfully, he reclaims fragments of movement. But the deeper discovery is a wholly new way of living, of being, of connecting with others. And others—this matters most—remain vividly present in his world. He turns little inward, little toward self-pity. Instead, he notices: the hospital staff, assessed with clarity and fairness; other disabled people, children and adults, some more severely affected than he, all moving toward their own "resurrection," described by someone who sees beyond behavior to the person beneath; families and friends doing their imperfect best, sometimes falling short, yet faithful in their care.
The book ends as Alain leaves the rehabilitation center. He has achieved something real, yet faces a harder truth: carving out a life that is reasonably happy and useful in a world that will now regard him—"different"—with eyes clouded by prejudice.
It is a fine book, written with simplicity, honest, pure, and deeply human.