One of the worst written books I’ve ever read.
I went into this book with genuine empathy for Kellie Finlayson and the unimaginable trauma she has endured. No one should ever have to go through what she did — the pain, grief, and public exposure of such a deeply personal tragedy is devastating. But sadly, the way her story is told in this book is frustrating, repetitive, and poorly constructed.
From the beginning, the writing lacks clarity and polish. The narrative often circles back on itself, with the same thoughts and reflections repeated so frequently it became difficult to stay engaged. There’s a lack of narrative progression — no real emotional arc or deeper insight that evolves over time. Instead, it reads more like a stream of consciousness, with no real editing or structure.
One of the biggest issues is the tone. The memoir often comes across as self-entitled and performative. Rather than drawing the reader into her experience with honesty and self-reflection, it sometimes feels like she’s positioning herself as a martyr, without the vulnerability or humility that would have made her story more relatable. There’s a sense of being “owed” something from the world — sympathy, attention, or even fame — and it made the entire book feel uncomfortably self-serving.
The most telling moment was the social media post from an old school friend who called her out after she publicly asked for Taylor Swift tickets. As harsh as it might seem, his reaction was the one moment that felt grounded in reality — a real reflection of how some people may perceive her actions. It raised valid questions about whether she was truly seeking healing or attention.
Then came the surrogacy storyline, which honestly left me shocked. After everything she had been through — including the fear of dying and leaving her daughter without a mother — the sudden decision to find a surrogate felt completely disconnected from the rest of the book. It wasn’t explained with any depth, nor did it make emotional or psychological sense in the context of her journey. It felt like an impulsive twist added for drama rather than a meaningful life choice, and it only added to the confusion and lack of direction in the book.
In short, this memoir had the potential to be a powerful, raw, and necessary exploration of grief, loss, and survival. Instead, it left me feeling disappointed, disconnected, and at times, uncomfortable. I wish her nothing but healing in real life, but as a reader, I cannot recommend this book. It needed a strong editor, deeper self-awareness, and a more grounded, authentic voice to do her story justice.