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A History of a Pedophile's Wife: Memoir of a Canadian Teacher and Writer
Coles
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A History of a Pedophile's Wife: Memoir of a Canadian Teacher and Writer in Ottawa, ON
By None
Current price: $16.99


By None
A History of a Pedophile's Wife: Memoir of a Canadian Teacher and Writer in Ottawa, ON
Current price: $16.99
Loading Inventory...
Size: Paperback
*Product information may vary - to confirm product availability, pricing, shipping and return information please contact Coles
"How could a mother not know?" This is a question often asked about families where incest has occurred, and Eleanor Cowan's gripping memoir, A History of a Pedophile's Wife, steps up with answers that are courageous and heartbreaking. Cowan grew up in Quebec in the 1950s, in a large Roman Catholic family with a lethal mix of violence, addiction, and toxic pedagogy. Cowan details the dance of a survivor moving into adulthood: one step forward towards freedom, two steps back into conditioning, until a tipping point of consciousness is reached. As her memoir makes clear, that tipping point is not just a critical mass of abuse or even a touchstone of personal growth. It requires an enlarged and feminist context, permission to know the unknowable, and language to name the unspeakable.
Cowan's book is a primer in compassion, especially for those of us who were abused as children and left to struggle with legacies of distrust and rage towards our mothers. It's a vivid indictment of a mother-blaming culture that protects the very institutions that perpetuate child abuse.
"How could a mother not know?" This is a question often asked about families where incest has occurred, and Eleanor Cowan's gripping memoir, A History of a Pedophile's Wife, steps up with answers that are courageous and heartbreaking. Cowan grew up in Quebec in the 1950s, in a large Roman Catholic family with a lethal mix of violence, addiction, and toxic pedagogy. Cowan details the dance of a survivor moving into adulthood: one step forward towards freedom, two steps back into conditioning, until a tipping point of consciousness is reached. As her memoir makes clear, that tipping point is not just a critical mass of abuse or even a touchstone of personal growth. It requires an enlarged and feminist context, permission to know the unknowable, and language to name the unspeakable.
Cowan's book is a primer in compassion, especially for those of us who were abused as children and left to struggle with legacies of distrust and rage towards our mothers. It's a vivid indictment of a mother-blaming culture that protects the very institutions that perpetuate child abuse.

















