I read the author's first book, [b:Lonely: A Memoir|7687690|Lonely A Memoir|Emily White|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1439241633s/7687690.jpg|10346676], years ago. I found it gripping, and I wanted to see how it all turned out for her.

And in this, the sequel-of-sorts, she writes of how she managed to tame the beast and find herself a sense of belonging and connection.

In that sense, this book did exactly what I wanted it to: reassured me that White's life got back on track. (Full disclosure: she's an introverted environmentalist from Toronto who loves dogs. Yes, I identified with her.)

However, where it lost me was my sense that White didn't truly understand how privileged her position was. If you are a childless, able-bodied person in the middle class living in a big city with a good transit system, guess what? You too can find and join local communities. Well, that's swell--and I don't mean to minimize her accomplishment. Having struggled with loneliness myself, I know how it can eat away at you and make any social interaction feel impossible. But her situation was largely situational and personal, not structural.

She writes in her concluding chapter that this is something anyone can and should do, and while she caveats this a few pages later by (finally) realizing how lucky her access to good transit is, and how it enabled her entire effort, she does not seem to understand that everything about her--every single thing, except that she's gay--was a benefit to her.

She's white.
She's well educated.
She's able-bodied.
She's not disfigured.
She has no mental impairments.
She is not an immigrant or refugee; she understands the major language where she lives.
While she's not wealthy, she has enough money to get out and pay for yoga and meditation classes.
She has no family responsibilities.
She does have a loving mother, and good friends.

If she saw an advertisement for a protest, a club, a class, a lecture, a volunteer activity, whatever, that she wanted to go to, she could just ... go. She didn't have to arrange for babysitting. She didn't have to call in favours from friends or family to watch the kids. She didn't have to look to see if the place was wheelchair-accessible, or presented other obstacles to those with different abilities. She could afford the transit fare. She didn't have to deal with racial prejudice, or worry if she would be rejected because she looked different--missing limbs, facial deformities. She didn't have to worry about understanding and following along with what was said. And yes, she is gay, and that can lead to rejection, but it's not something people know about you from just looking at you, unlike skin colour, accent, language, impairment, age, etc.

So if you too are very privileged, and wondering how to deal with loneliness or build a bigger sense of connection and belonging in your life, you will find much of value here.

If you aren't, expect to be at least somewhat frustrated.

I don't want to overstate this. It was a well-written engaging book, and I was rooting for her and happy to see her success. But this is not a solution to loneliness for a great many people. Look, what if the art class that is perfect for you is offered at a location without a ramp, and the subway stops between your house and that studio don't have elevators, and you're in a wheelchair? What if you're a single parent and there's a fantastic weekly book club you'd love to join, but it's always held on a day of the week you can't get child care? What if you would love to show up at the library for monthly lectures on the history of coin collecting, but you just moved here from Zimbabwe and not only the lectures but all of the materials are only offered in English? What if you desperately need and want a local community but you're working three minimum-wage jobs in 75 hours/week to pay the rent? Whether or not you feel all such cases should be accommodated, there are larger barriers to face in this world than "lacks unlimited wealth" and "is gay."

I read an article recently (the article that inspired me to see if this book, which I knew she was writing, had been published yet) about the physical and mental effects of chronic loneliness, and it was fairly harrowing. Lonely people get sick earlier and more often, and they're more likely to die of the illnesses they have. It can actually kill you. But worse than that was this:

"Who are the lonely? They’re the outsiders: not just the elderly, but also the poor, the bullied, the different. Surveys confirm that people who feel discriminated against are more likely to feel lonely than those who don’t, even when they don’t fall into the categories above. Women are lonelier than men (though unmarried men are lonelier than unmarried women). African Americans are lonelier than whites (though single African American women are less lonely than Hispanic and white women). The less educated are lonelier than the better educated. The unemployed and the retired are lonelier than the employed."

How horrifying and awful is this? How much more of a burden is loneliness, both mentally and physically, to those who must contend against prejudice and discrimination? And how much use are they likely to find in Emily White's advice? Quite possibly, not much. ( )