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#200
Net ir nežinau nuo ko pradėti pasakoti apie ką ši knyga, nes joje pilna visko nuo šeimos sagos iki šizofrenijos. Pasakojama istorija besitesianti nuo Italijos imigrantų atvykimo į JAV iki šių dienų. Pagrindiniai herojai identiški dvyniai, kuris vienas suserga sunkia šizofrenijos forma ir nusipjauna ranką. Tuo tarpu kitas turi rūpintis ne tik juo, bet ir savo gyvenimo kuriame pilna visokių negandų. Todėl stoja į kovą su savais demonais, norėdamas viską išsiaiškinti. Knygoje tikrai gausu visko, galima daug ko pasimokyti, bet kažkaip skaitant knyga pasirodė per daug ištempta, vietomis galėjo būti trumpesnė, nes skaitymas primindavo kai reikia perskaityti knygą sesijos metu likus vienai dienai.

I read this during my junior year of high school (for fun, not assigned) in my free time in physics class. I remember it so clearly because I was a wreck for weeks. I also remember finishing it on a plane, slamming the book closed, and wanting to scream because I needed to vent to someone, anyone, about it but I was flying alone

"Kartais pažiūriu į jį, ir toks jausmas, kad jis... lyg koks apleistas pastatas. Name, vardu Tomas, jau daugelį metų niekas negyvena.
Mano brolis visą laiką buvo man tarsi akmuo po kaklu. Traukė mane žemyn...Aš jo nekenčiu. Jis yra mano prakeiksmas. Mano suknistas nupušęs brolelis."
Gėda dėl brolio, pažeminimas, patyčios, jo liga, silpnumas.

Aš išėjau į šviesą, rankose laikydamas šias savo surastas tiesas: kad meilė tarpsta tik sodrioje atlaidumo dirvoje, kad mišrūnai yra patys geriausi šunys, ir kad Dievo buvimo įrodymas yra visa ko apvalumas.
Bent jau šiuos dalykus aš sugebėjau suprasti. Bent tiek aš žinau".

Gal kiek ištęsta knyga, bet visumoj patiko.
Du broliai dvyniai, vienas iš kurių serga šizofrenija, jų stiprus tarpusavio ryšys; pažadas motinai ginti brolį.
Sudėtingi šeimos santykiai,vaikystės traumos, pasiaukojimas, kaltė -knygoje bus visko, kad užteks su kaupu.

Wow, what a fantastic book. I read the last 550 pages of this book in one day, disregarding the myriad other things I was supposed to get done. Excellent writing -- every time I thought I knew what was going to happen next (and hoping it didn't, because that would be too predictable) he threw in a curveball or two. The ending actually seemed a little too happy for the rest of the book, but had it ended any other way I might've wanted to jump off a bridge.

Parts of the book were so brutally human that they were difficult to get through, but difficult in the kind of way that wrenches your heart and connects you even deeper to the story. I will be thinking about this book for weeks to come...this is what good writing is supposed to be.

I give this 1 star because I wouldn't ever recommend this book to my children or my friends. It was such a base book. Sex was it's subject....not mental illness. It had monkey sex, horse sex, rape, incest, porn sex, homosexual sex, bi-sexual sex, voyeuristic sex, duty/obligatory sex, prison sex, hate sex, oral sex and I am sure there is much more. HOLY CRAP!!!! Enough already!!!!
I read some other reviews...and they said just hang in there and get thru the middle and the resolution at the end is worth it. My opinion on that is that the resolution was good....but books aren't something to wade thru like a swamp....just get the hell out. I loved "She's Come Undone," but this was nauseating. Books to me are not something you should just get thru.

This is a book that stays with you long after turning the last page. The storyline is deep and moving, and the ending was lovely and held hope and happiness for Dominic (the main character), but I felt emotional upon finishing as I pondered all that he had been through.
Dominic is a wonderful brother to his twin Thomas, who is a paranoid schizophrenic, and he loves his brother deeply. But Dominic carries a constant feeling of guilt because he battles conflicting emotions of embarrassment, anger and even sometimes hate toward his mentally ill brother due to the pain and stress that he feels Thomas causes upon his life. The thing is, no matter what Thomas puts Dominic through and no matter how angry he makes Dominic feel, he is there for Thomas, defending him, being is strength and his voice, fighting for him, supporting him. It is clear within these pages just how much Dominic deeply loves and cares for his brother.
Thomas is not the only battle in Dominic’s life, he faces a hard childhood, loss of loved ones who never should have died, and hurt and confusion by someone who betrays him deeply in such a terrible way.
Dominic is a strong, complex, fair, caring and beautiful character (although he doesn’t see this within himself) and the book is sad, but hopeful and beautiful as well. It explores the intricacies of family and what goes on behind closed doors, and it journeys us through Dominic’s path toward finding himself, uncovering truth’s, and forgiveness (to those he loves and to himself also). I really loved this story, the characters were so well developed I found it hard to believe I wasn’t reading a true story about real people. It is a work of art and an incredible piece of writing. It is absolutely worth the mammoth read that it is, and I enjoyed it immensely.

I first read this book shortly after it came out 22 years ago. I’m a little shocked at how little I remember—I basically just remembered the main idea, which is that identical twin brothers grow up and one, Thomas, is diagnosed with schizophrenia. The other, Dominick, has a different kind of mental anguish that he expresses with anger. His anger and fear comes from always protecting his twin while also wanting Thomas to figure out how to defend himself against verbal assault from their stepfather and the kids at school when they were younger, before the diagnosis.

Both his anger and Thomas’s deterioration have led to unsavory results. The novel starts with Thomas going to a public library and chopping off his hand, but we’re told the story in a way that bounces around with time, including the manuscript left by their grandfather, who died a few months before the twins were born—Dominick has always wanted to know who his father was, but his mother went to her grave without telling him.

As a way to help Thomas, Dominick starts seeing Dr. Patel, a psychiatrist with a degree in anthropology, and he befriends Ms. Sheffer, a social worker in charge of Thomas’s case.

This is a very well-done novel. Our protagonist, Dominick, is flawed and has made and continues to make mistakes, but you’re definitely rooting for him to get better.

I absolutely loved this book and cried my eyes out during the last 60 pages. This book was an experience! So much has been written about this book how much can I add?

For me the emotional complexity and intensity of the story instantly pulled me in and relentlessly riveted my attention through the 897 pages. But the intensity of my emotions was extremely mixed and volatile. By page 250 I wanted to abandon the book altogether as I encountered some powerful emotional reactions to rape, child abuse, heinous domestic violence and SIDS. So many bad things happened to so many people in this story! By page 480 I was an emotional wreck and at times had trouble physically touching the book. The first 480 pages of this book were depressing! Thankfully I was poked and prodded along by my Goodreads reading partner and stuck with it. The turning point for me occurred specifically on pages 483-484 – a green, spring shoot of hope and humanity and by page 859 redemption, reconciliation and forgiveness. The first half of the book was such an arduous journey but the second half and conclusion was well worth the mental angst.

The concepts of forgiveness and redemption are critically significant and are woven into the tale with increasing intensity and clarity as the book moves to its conclusion. Could you forgive the college man who angrily rapes his girlfriend in the back seat of her car? Could you forgive the father that mentally and physically abuses your children? Could you forgive a cousin who conspires to set you up for a crime you did not commit? Could you forgive the husband that rapes his wife because she is "his"? Could you forgive the brother who can be mean and abusive to his twin brother ... the twin brother who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia? Would the context of their past lives provide the leeway and latitude necessary for you to forgive their terrible abuses and transgressions? This book tackles some very difficult relationship issues and so much more. These questions and situations fueled my moral dilemmas, emotional entanglements and quandaries as I read the book, creating such intense angst and tension for me.

Truth be told, I was very intimidated by the length of the book. I have not read an 800+ page book since my college days over 30 years ago! And the little economist voice in my head repeated over and over - the law of diminishing returns, the law of diminishing returns, law of diminishing returns. Could I apply this economic law to a literary work? Was it necessary to capture infinitesimally minute, incremental details of each character to build the story? Yes indeed it was! All 897 pages of this book were absolutely necessary to fully elucidate and explore the storyline.

My very first Wally Lamb adventure was She’s Come Undone, a wonderful read with a central hero figure in Delores Price. This book was equally satisfying and accomplished but I could not identify any hero figures in this read. What I did experience was deeper understanding and empathy for the human condition, the emotional complexity of the human mind and how in the end, generally we all strive to do what is right given our assumptions and perceptions at the time.

I highly recommend this book and would rate it a 5+++ if I could. But do be prepared for a very thought provoking, emotionally stimulating and fully satisfying adventure!

I read this book ages ago- some time before college- and got so consumed by the characters that I thought about them for weeks after I'd finished the book. I would wonder about things on which Lamb didn't elaborate, would think about their personalities, their situations. It's remarkable when a book can become so important to a person.

This story moved (it's a cheesy word, but I really WAS moved) and captivated me because it's so human. The people face things about which I know nothing, but I still feel close to them or can identify with them because Lamb somehow captures a little of the essence of us all. It's a story of overwhelming sadness and obstacles faced by the protagonist, Dominic, and his ability to continue through life despite those things. I love the ending and the moments of humor that shine through despite the grief that these people feel. Excellent book.

This book is recommended for drama lovers. It’s a full plate with plenty of second helpings.

Triggers: mental illness, emotional and physical abuse (including rape), animal cruelty, sexism, religion...

I had this book sitting on my shelf since its release (1998!). I have some older books waiting for my attention and that is something that does not bother me. Seriously. I feel some comfort knowing that a certain book is at my reach.
But I’m so glad that I have finally decided to read it. I don’t think that I would have appreciated this book back then (1998), as much as I have right now.
What pleased me the most was the author’s writing style. I was totally absorbed from the beginning. It’s absolutely engaging. The structure is brilliant.
This is a very heartbreaking story, but not one that I would call depressing.
There is so much drama and sadness but the writing is superb. The dialogues are great.
On the last 5 or 3 pages of chapter 35 there is a small scene involving animal cruelty that I thought was not necessary. It added nothing more to that particular character. As for myself, I can’t stand animal cruelty, no matter how small a scene is, so I was very disappointed about it. Regardless, it did not diminish my whole impression of this book and I do think that this is a terrific work of fiction, and perhaps one of the best books that I’ve read.
Again, this is full of dramas. There isn’t a break of joy until the very end. But the writing is so good that the amount of sadness did not bother me.
I do have a twin brother, but we are fraternal, so I did feel some connection at some level.
I’m looking forward to watching the HBO adaptation, but I have heard that they changed the ending but I hope that they were faithful to the book.
I was very pleased with the conclusion of this book and I had to holdback my tears as I was reading in public.

I don't know what to say. This has been one of the most realistic, heartbreaking, and well-written books that I've ever read in my life. The characters were diverse, had distinct voices and unique personalities. Serious issues were discussed, including but not limited to: mental illness, racism, toxic masculinity, sexism, abuse, and war. None of them was handled lightly and most were expanded upon and masterfully portrayed.
I can easily say that I Know This Much is True is a new book on my 'favourites' shelf.
900 pages in 5 days. I'm half-dead :'D

“That’s the trouble with survival of the fittest, isn’t it, Dominick? The corpse at your feet. That little inconvenience.”

“He’s the sick one,”I reminded her. “I’m the other one.”
“Yes, yes,”she said. “The tough guy. The not-so-nice twin. Which doesn’t necessarily make you well, Dominick. Does it? Look around, my friend. Here you are, in therapy.”
She saw it over and over again in her male patients, she said—it could probably qualify as an epidemic among American men: this stubborn reluctance to embrace our wholeness—this stoic denial that we had come from our mothers as well as our fathers. It was sad, really tragic. So wasteful of human lives, as our wars and drive-by shootings kept proving to us; all one had to do was turn on CNN or CBS News.
And yet, it was comic, too—the lengths most men went to to prove that they were “tough guys.” The gods must look down upon us, laughing and crying simultaneously.

She reached for my hand. Squeezed it. “I learned something very useful today,” she said.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I learned that there are two young men lost in the woods. Not one. Two.”
She gave me one of those half-smiles of hers—one of those non-committal jobs. “I may never find one of the young men,” she said.
“He has been gone so long. The odds, I’m afraid, may be against it. But as for the other, I may have better luck. The other young man may be calling me.”

Most of the people hanging around outside their houses were black or Spanish—not exactly the kind of neighborhood you’d figure a racist like Dell would live in. But it was typical, according to my sociology teacher. The biggest bigots were the ones who felt most directly threatened by the “underclass.” The ones who felt the most moved in on.


I must have walked for a mile, mile and a half, just thinking about shit: how it must feel to be way up there, looking down at the earth. Not being a part of it. Taking in the place, whole. That was the thing, man. That’s what was hard: we were all moon walkers, in a way. Me. Leo. Ralph Drinkwater. My brother. Even my stupid stepfather, locked in a three-against-one with Ma and Thomas and me. Even all the clowns back there at the Dial-Tone Lounge, getting loaded so they could get up the nerve to try and fuck some girl—any girl—tether themselves to someone, even for a couple of minutes in the backseat of someone’s car. For a couple of seconds, everything was all clear. It all made sense. Who was that guy we’d read in my philosophy class last semester? That existentialism guy? He was right. Every one of us was alone. Even if you were someone’s identical twin. I mean, why had Thomas gotten up in the middle of the night and run those laps around the dorm? None of it made any sense, man, that was why. Because the whole freaking world was absurd. Because man was existentially alone...


“How did I feel? Oh, I guess I felt . . . like a good, red-blooded American.”
“Yes? Explain, please.”
“Keep them damn minorities down, boys. Put ’em on the cleanup crew. Survival of the fittest.”
“You’re being ironic, yes?”
“You know much about American history, Doc? What we did to the Indians? The slaves?”
“I’m afraid I’m not grasping your point, Dominick.”
“My point is: who the hell do you think those three white cops were going to believe that night—a couple of white kids or the dope-peddling black Indian? The radical queer? I mean, you got to hand it to Leo. It was a little over the top, maybe, but it worked. Right? I mean, stoned or not, it was a brilliant defense.”

“I just . . . It’s painful. I don’t see the point.”
“The point is this: that the stream of memory may lead you to the river of understanding. And understanding, in turn, may be a tributary to the river of forgiveness. Perhaps, Dominick, you have yet to emerge fully from the pond where you swam that morning so long ago. And perhaps, when you do, you will no longer look into the water and see the reflection of a son of a bitch.”

I looked out, again, at the rushing water.
“Life is a river,” she repeated. “Only in the most literal sense are we born on the day we leave our mother’s womb. In the larger, truer sense, we are born of the past—connected to its fluidity, both genetically and experientially.”She folded her hands together as if praying to what we saw below. “So, that is my opinion, my friend. Should you throw your ancestry into the wood stove? Of course not. Should you keep reading it, even if it takes away your sleep? Yes, by all means. Read your grandfather’s story, Dominick. Jump into the river. And if it upsets you, come in and tell me why.”
On the way out of her office, I got a quick glimpse of her next appointment: big, burly guy—work boots, hooded sweatshirt. We gave each other a jerky half-nod for a hello. Another “tough guy” in therapy, I thought. A fellow member of the walking wounded.


“I thought . . . I thought when I came in here and saw this Kleenex box that you had them on hand for, I don’t know, hysterical housewives or something. Women whose husbands just dumped them. I feel like a jerk.”
“Grief has no gender, Mr. Birdsey,” she said.
I took another tissue. Blew my nose again. “Is that what this is? Grief?”
“Why wouldn’t you grieve, Mr. Birdsey? Your twin brother is, as you said, an abandoned house. If no one is home, then someone is missing. So you grieve.”
I stuffed the used tissue into my shirt pocket. Handed her back the box. “Yeah, but you’d think by now. . . . You figure you got a lid on things and then. . . .”
“Mr. Birdsey, human beings are not like—oh, those plastic containers—what are they called? The ones Americans buy at parties?”
“At parties? . . . Tupperware, you mean?”
“Yes, yes. That’s it. People are not like Tupperware, with their lids on securely. Nor should they be, although the more I work with American men, the more I see it is their perceived ideal. Which is nonsense, really. Very unhealthy, Mr. Birdsey. Not something to aspire to at all. Never.”


I believe that both your brother’s religiosity and his wholehearted belief in heroes and villains may be his brave but futile attempt to make the world orderly and logical. It’s a noble struggle, in a sense, given the chaos his disease has put him up against. At least, that’s one way of interpreting it.”
“Noble? What’s so noble about it?”
“Because he is struggling to cure himself, Dominick. To rid himself of what must be his gravest fear: chaos. If he can somehow order the world, save the world, then he can save himself. That was his motivation when he removed his hand in the library, was it not? To sacrifice himself? To stop the destruction that war inevitably brings? Your brother is a very sick man, Dominick, but also a very good one and, I would venture to say, in some ways, even a noble one. I hope that gives you some small comfort.”


“I know I made mistakes with you two,” he said. “With him, especially. That day of the funeral, there? Afterward—back at the house? You weren’t accusing me of anything that I hadn’t already accused myself of. . . . I just never understood that kid. Me and him, we were like oil and water. . . . I hadn’t grown up with a father, see? All I knew was that it was a tough world out there. I figured that was the one thing I could do for you two: toughen you up a little, so that you could take whatever sucker punches life was going to throw at you. . . .‘They’re just little boys, Ray,’ she used to say to me all the time. But I didn’t see it. I was pigheaded about it, I guess. And, of course, I knew neither of you two liked me that much. Had me pegged as the bad guy all the time. The guy who wrecked everyone’s fun. Sometimes you three would be laughing at something, and I’d walk into the room, and bam! three long faces.”
“It was your temper,” I said. “We were afraid of you.”
He nodded. “I have a bad temper. I know I do. It was because of what I’d come from. I was mad at the world, I guess. . . . But Jesus, I’d get so mad at her when she tried to run interference for him all
the time. That used to drive me up the ever-loving wall. . . . And, of course, that day I come home and found the two of them up there, him in that foolish hat, those high-heel shoes . . .
“I failed him—I know that. Probably failed the both of you. Right?”
I couldn’t answer him. Jesus, he’d been brutal to us. But he’d been there. . . . He’d told Ma her mouth was just as kissable as anyone else’s.
“Things get clearer when you’re older,” he said. “Of course, by then it’s too late.”


The office was handsome. Huge. Cathedral ceiling with exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace that faced an entire wall of glass. Jesus, what a life he’d had. His sister gets murdered, his mother goes off the deep end. And then that scummy business out at Dell Weeks’s house—posing for dirty pictures just so’s he’d have a place to stay. But he had declared who he was all the way through: Well, I’m Wequonnoc Indian. So I guess not all of us got annihilated.. . . You guys ought to read Soul on Ice! Really! That book tells it like it is! . . . He’d been crapped on his whole life—had scrubbed toilets down at the psycho-prison for a living . . . and had still managed to
be a good man. To rise up out of the ashes. And now, he’d arrived at this big, beautiful room. This big, brand-new building. He’d come, at long, long last, into his own.

I am not a smart man, particularly, but one day, at long last, I stumbled from the dark woods of my own, and my family’s, and my country’s past, holding in my hands these truths: that love grows from the rich loam of forgiveness; that mongrels make good dogs; that the evidence of God exists in the roundness of things.
This much, at least, I’ve figured out. I know this much is true.

this was one hell of a book. even besides the fact that it is close to 900 pages.

the book is basically the story of Dominick Birdsey, the "sane" twin brother of a mentally ill Thomas. It deals with his life struggle as twin, caretaker, family member, and friend of this person slowly coming undone (no pun intended). but by all means, this is not the only story going on in this novel...not the only character with struggles, pain and emotion.

from joy, Dominick's messed up girlfriend, to Ray, his abusive step father, down to Dell, the forman during one of his summer jobs as a landscaper...every character Wally Lamb writes is thought out, and lends an important piece to the puzzling, anguishing story of Dominick's life. not only do these characters help move the plot along, but, i felt some sort of emotion for every single character in this book. good or bad, i felt something, and that takes a lot from an author...to make the reader feel something on every single page.

it also amazed me how, in the middle of this engrossing novel about Dominick, the author plopped an entire second novel, the story of Dominick's grandfather, right into the middle of it. and it didn't even make me blink. it was just as fascinating to learn about Dominick's ancestors, and relate them to all i knew about him. what author can successfully do something like that? well...wally lamb, i guess.

kudos to Lamb for taking me through this journey of Dominick's self loathing, self pity and self discovery, with such an amazing voice.