What happens when a forty-something, community college sociology professor learns that her mother—a charming, passive-aggressive, and needy woman who hasn’t had a lover in decades—has started seeing men who want to be bound, whipped, and sexually dominated? What happens when that same mother, shortly after diving into her newly discovered sexuality, develops a cancer that forces her to accept … radical changes to her body, and then another that forces her, and everyone around her, to confront her mortality?
In Bound, Elizabeth Anne Wood addresses these questions as she chronicles the last eight months of her mother’s life—a period she comes to see, over the course of months, as a maternity leave in reverse: she is carrying her mother as she dies. Throughout their journey, Wood uses her notebook as a shield to keep unruly emotions at bay, often taking comfort in her role as advocate and forgetting to “be the daughter,” as one doctor reminds her to do. Meanwhile, her mother’s penchant for denial and her childlike tendency toward magical thinking lead to moments of humor even as Wood battles the red tape of hospital bureaucracies, the frustration of planning in the midst of an unpredictable illness, and the unintentional inhumanity of a health care system that too often fails to see the person behind the medical chart.
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With grace and finesse, BOUND: A DAUGHTER, A DOMME, AND AN END-OF-LIFE STORY by Elizabeth Anne Wood, details some of the most challenging experiences life can throw at a person.
Wood took an unpaid sabbatical to care for her terminally ill mother, who it turns out had become a domme in her later years.
She also had to deal with the excessive bureaucracy from the medical community her mother relied on for end-of-life care.
Clear, concise, and articulate, everyone should read—and learn from—this extraordinary book!
Bound explores the complexities of caregiving in the context of a unique mother-daughter relationship. This personal story triggers universal emotions and offers insights that will help you understand your own caregiving journey.
Caring for a loved one at the end-of-life and complicated mother-daughter relationship memoirs are not all that unusual, but how many marry both these themes with the mother’s discovery of a new sexual identity as a dominatrix in her 60s? Elizabeth Wood’s memoir, Bound, manages to combine all three in a beautifully written, page-turning account of her mother’s last eight months, fighting the return of her cancer and losing not only her independence but the practice of her recently discovered passion. What makes this account even more unusual is Wood’s comfort and even delight at her mother’s sexual persona. Wood happens to be a sociologiest whose specialties includes gender and sexuality studies. Despite her rocky history with her mother, fueled by her mother’s early alcoholism, Wood is committed to helping her mother manage her complicated and sometimes frustrating care, toggling between the bureaucracies of hospital and rehab, with a patience and determination that would be impressive, even under more ordinary circumstances. This account is not for the squeamish and may trigger unpleasant memories for anyone who has helped a loved one thrrough a difficult, disease-ridden end-of-life. Wood is frank about all aspects of her mother’s failing condition, including the dialysis she endures because of earlier kidney failure. But these honest descriptions are part of what makes Bound so compelling, perhaps even more so than the references to the toys and lifestyle of an older dominatrix. However, adding to the humanity of this memoir is the introduction of Kenny, the devoted and submissive boyfriend, who lovingly attends to Judy in her dying days. With Bound, Wood has given voice to a host of important issues we may have shied away from in the past and done so in such a personal and engaging way that we stay with her until the inevitable end. (Note: I received an Advanced Reader Copy of this book.)
Wood’s memoir combines mother-daughter themes with an account of her middle-aged mother’s sexual awakening, illness, and death. The juxtaposition is intriguing and unusual, not least because of the sociological focus that the author brings to her story. Wood, a professor of sociology who studies gender and sexuality, observes and comments on many aspects of our society—family roles, the interplay of aging and sexuality, and the organization of end-of-life care. As a result, we get not only a deeply personal memoir of daughterhood, but also a case study of the contemporary American landscape of aging and death. Anyone who has lived through the medically-mediated death of a parent will recognize the agonizing choices—the catch-22’s—that this memoir so accurately describes.
Wood has a gift for both documenting and honoring the quirky individualism of other people, including her mother’s involvement with BDSM. Her book is compassionate, uncensored, and memorable; I highly recommend it.
Combining “A Daughter, A Domme, and An End-Of-Life Story” in one sentence, let alone in a book, seems incongruous, except when the elements are true and compassionately described by Elizabeth Anne Wood in her memoir. Ms. Wood is to be applauded for her brave, honest account of her complex mother daughter relationship and experiences navigating the labyrinthine, often painful and unjust U.S. medical system. And then, woven throughout, there’s Buffy, the Vampire Slayer! Curious to understand the connection? Get the book! You will not be disappointed.
Where to begin? Elizabeth Anne Wood’s memoir is as much about illness and the-end-of-life as it is about connection and the discovery of a lust-for-life. As a writer and a scholar, Wood is the real-deal: clear-eyed, astute, and endlessly open-minded. In a memoir that tackles a range of complex and interconnected issues—the promise and failings of our healthcare system, the pitfalls and rewards of caregiving, the liberatory potential of BDSM practices, the nuances of mother-daughter relationships—Wood is unflinching, honest, and incredibly generous.
Bound: A Daughter, A Domme, and an End-of-Life Story guides its reader unflinchingly not only into the thick of the mind-bogglingly complicated (thanks in part to the bureaucratic nature of current health care in the United States) care of the author’s mother Judy during her cancer diagnosis and treatment, but also through a poignant and engrossing narrative that touches on topics ranging from Elizabeth’s childhood, to her discussions with her mother about the latter’s discovery of and newfound enthusiasm for sexual dominance, to navigating communications with health care providers upon whom the well-being of a beloved family member (to some degree) depends. Intertwined in the story are the tension that arises sometimes between the author and her sister as they navigate the utterly uncertain terrain of their mother’s health and care, the welcome presence of the male partner with whom Judy has developed an erotic relationship of dominance and submission, and an exhausting number of physical transferals from hospital to rehab centers to skilled nursing facilities (and back again). Bound is a book to which we already know the ending, and thus, like many books in that category, the purpose of reading it becomes not to find out how the volume resolves but to witness the shape, evolution, and content of the story as it progresses to its known conclusion. With engaging writing and detailed openness, Bound is a deeply personal and compelling exposition filled with love, sensitivity, and honesty.
Elizabeth Ann Wood’s memoir had me captivated from the start. It’s a poignant story of a daughter and the special love she has for her mother. Despite some tumultuous early years, Sociologist and Professor Wood and her mother have a unique bond. As a daughter, I read what Wood went through while taking care of her mother, and though she writes about it in a matter-of-fact way, from my point of view, she is a true hero. She takes a non-paid sabbatical to care for her mother who is dying. This real life story had an interesting twist and that is that Wood’s mother became a Domme in her later years. Since I know very little about the BDSM world, it was quite interesting to read about crosses and cages; I appreciated how wonderfully open this mother and daughter were in talking about sexuality. I don’t think this is common and yet it’s so important. Though interesting, the BDSM to me read as secondary. What had me turning pages late into the night were the raw and honest passages of how Wood felt about taking care of her mother. This memoir can also serve as a manual for those who are going through something similar; one can share and learn from Wood’s frustration of dealing with doctors and hospitals. Although it’s a story about dying, there are wonderful passages that are lighter with humor. I highly recommend this memoir that demonstrates a powerful relationship, despite tough times, between a mother and a daughter.
In this fascinating exploration of a complex mother-daughter relationship, Elizabeth Wood comes to terms with her mother’s flaws and eccentricities in order to make peace with her impending death. Wood also shines a necessary spotlight on the myriad bureaucracies within our healthcare system that make navigating illness challenging and often dehumanizing. A smartly written, thought-provoking read.
Bound really beautifully shows the conflicts of the mother-daughter relationship, while also exposing the many hypocrisies and blind spots of the modern American health care system. Wood’s level of self-reflection (without martyring herself! A feat in and of itself) was truly humbling. I highly recommend this book!
The title alone will tell you that “Bound: A Daughter, A Domme, and an End-of-Life Story” is no everyday memoir. But it won’t tell you what Elizabeth Anne Wood brings to it: a storyteller’s instincts, a sociologist’s insights and the razor-sharp honesty of a writer who is able to be compassionate and unflinching at the same time.
It’s odd to begin a review of something filled with varying levels of tragedy and turbulence: “I really enjoyed reading this,’ but boy did I ever enjoy reading this book. It is the story of Judy Newton, who discovered BDSM – or more precisely embraced her inner dominatrix – when she was in her sixties. On the heels of this she went through one medical trauma after another – from discovering a tumor on her kidney, to is subsequent removal and the ensuing dialysis, to the cancer that would eventually end her life. But there are several books here: there is the story of navigating a healthcare system seemingly designed to fail the people it’s intended to serve. There is the incredible portrait of family relationships, so beautifully and perfectly described. There is the evolution of Judy’s sexuality as she moves through the last years of her life. And there is the message of the centrality of sexuality to our humanity across the spectrum of our lives, through illness and age and convalescence. There are parts of each of these stories that I carry with me, that I’m grateful to have read.
As I said, there is an easy intimacy about the author’s description of her family and relationships; you come to know the players very quickly. Elizabeth arrives at her mother’s spectacularly chaotic apartment to spend the first night there – and scans the bookshelves: “There’s a dense hardcover about the civil war next to Women Who Run With Wolves, which Mom has always wanted me to read. My feminism has no room for some spiritual claims about a natural and instinctive femininity.” I recognize these people.
And…”the last book one shelf is an old copy of her favorite, Catch 22.”
Catch 22 is the constant reference for the description of their negotiation of the medical system. The classic Catch 22 from the book is where the fighter pilot Yossarian wants to be declared mentally unfit to fly missions because they are terrifying. Alas his terror and desire to not fly is evidence of his sanity, and so he cannot be declared mentally unfit. This metaphor is deftly deployed to describe their navigation through the labyrinthine medical establishment: Judy is too healthy to enter a rehab that offers the kind of care that would be most beneficial, or is required to transfer out of a place that was helping her regain her strength because.. she got too strong. It is not the people who are failing here, not all of them. Throughout the book Elizabeth calls attention to the “superhero social workers” and doctors who care deeply, and wield their influence and big hearts to do the best they can by them. It is the system that fails – the system so Byzantine that it manages to resist all anthropomorphization by remaining completely heartless.
The evolution of Judy’s sexuality – specifically her embracing of the role “Domme” – is marvelously woven throughout, and provides both the dark comedy and deep sadness, also woven through the story. Approaching 60, Judy calls Elizabeth and asks excitedly “did you know that you can get paid to hurt men, and you don’t even have to have sex with them?” And thus begins the more entertaining aspects of the story. Another metaphor woven throughout the book is the giant St. Christopher’s Cross dominating Judy’s living room. It is the symbol of her power, it marks the presence of her lover Kenny, and it is also and in many different respects a “cross to bear.” In the hands of a lesser writer, the discovery of an aging parent’s BDSM paraphernalia, alongside sex toys – dildos, floggers – would be horrifying at best. Here, their discovery and disposition is humorous, profound, inconvenient, sad – but always fits in a way that moves the story along.
One of the great themes of the book is how we as a culture are in denial about elder sexuality, which makes it much easier for us as individuals to deny people access to sexuality as they age. This is especially poignant here: Judy’s discovery of her sexuality late in life was tremendously empowering, and was clearly vital to her navigation through her first illness. Judy herself writes about this in an article quoted at length in the book: “The visit of my faithful British subject (Note: a domination session with one of Judy’s favorite partners) was an uncharted part of my hospital recovery plan, but immensely therapeutic.” Greater is the tragedy, then, when through her final illness, her sexuality is simply erased by doctors, rehabs, and even superhero social workers. What makes this story even more heartbreaking is that this is not written from the perspective of someone who did everything right, who asked the right questions and advocated for her mother’s sexual and emotional needs at every turn. While Elizabeth and her mother are clearly more open about sexuality than most mother-daughter pairs, we feel the regret as Elizabeth tells us of things she didn’t ask for, times she didn’t advocate for Judy’s needs, and – despite their openness about so many things – questions she never asked her mother.
As I began: I really loved reading his book – and am so very grateful to Elizabeth Wood for writing it. There are many things I took away from it – from a self-amused resolution to organize the abundant paraphernalia in my life, to a much fuller perspective on aging, sexuality and death, and the inextricable links between them. There are many relationships that drive the story here: obviously Elizabeth’s relationship with her mother, but also her sometimes contentious relationship with her sister and other relatives, with doctors & social workers. Also, Judy’s relationship with her supremely devoted lover Kenny provides occasional oases of tenderness throughout the story. So when I hear the echoes of this book now, I hear: ask the questions, advocate, build the relationships.
I really enjoyed reading this book about the very real struggle of navigating the various health care systems often encountered on the end of life journey. But the book is so much more than that. It’s a memoir told honestly and lovingly by a daughter helping an oft difficult mother to her final peace managing humor and modern day challenges along the way. It is a must read for those facing these issues and gives honest reporting of pitfalls and joys along the way