1.5/5 Stars - FINE

A good memoir requires, at least, one of four features: an author with either a unique voice, perspective, experience, or insight into the world. Ruth Cracknell has part of an experience and nothing else to offer.

Journey from Venice records Cracknell's support of her husband, Eric Phillips, as he falls ill during a holiday in Venice, Italy. When these events sit at the forefront of the work, there is hope for the memoir being a valuable read. However, Cracknell insists on Venice only powering half of her story. The rest struggles to elevate beyond a synopsis of incidents that millions of families go through each year. Granted, it is tragic and painful, and the writing of a book helps heal the wounds, but the product is ultimately one of self-service.

That is not to diminish its execution. It is a competently written piece - at times even compelling. Its basis is a matter-of-fact style that allows Cracknell to adapt the structure and prose to suit the action on the page: long and clear sentences depicting periods of calm routine; non sequiturs and sporadic language depicting anxiety; introspective and even poetic language for revelatory moments. If only this attention to style and detail remained consistent.

At times it is an itinerary of landmarks and portraiture. At other points Cracknell lifts content directly from her travel dairy. She also manages to work in her rolodex of acquaintances from her annals of geo-politics, the arts, and medicine. There are even points of poetic reflection that fall flat solely because of Cracknell's completely sheltered life, leaving her out of touch with even the most basic of realities.

For those like me who do not know, Cracknell was an Australian actress from 1946 up until her death in 2002. It is not an exaggeration to say that one of her great revelations in the book's Epilogue was that beneath its tourist trap of a facade, Venice was in-fact a city like any other, containing hard working citizens fighting against the odds to persevere. Cracknell even had the gall to claim to be one of them, having spent three-weeks there not holidaying as planned. This is only the terminus in a long line of unlikable quirks she reveals in the pages of the book: a general main-character mentality to the world around her; being the centre of attention (often positively) to every medical establishment she and her husband set foot in; having the exclusive right to exhibit road rage; little hesitancy in looking down at those around her she deems lesser.

And while its blurb and quoted reviews highlight the love story angle, the actions reflect the bare minimum of what a loving family would do when one of their own is in trouble.

With each of these issues weighing it down, what should be a short, snappy read drags. Ongoing repetition of medical evaluations and family reunions that rather than reading for effect come across as summaries of events. Cracknell's observations of her experience seem to be written with a tone of poignancy, but instead resonate with the dulcet tones of "is that it?"

Really, Journey from Venice boils down to being a book that had the weight and appeal of a built-in audience brought about by fame. While I do not regret my time with the book - and I didn't come away from it with less than I began - it just barely balances itself out to being fine. Some readers may be helped in knowing that others have experiences similar to theirs, but far better texts exist to help with that sort of healing process. ( )

A moving and easy to read bio - focusing on the sudden illness and death of Ruth's husband. A genuine look at the emotional roller coaster of family illness and the end of a forty year relationship. ( )

A moving love story but, as a writer, Miss Cracknell makes a great actress ( )

A deeply intimate story of love and loss, which was possibly brought even further into the personal realm by listening to a fine actress read an unabridged version as an audiobook. Ruth Cracknell and her husband Eric Phillips plan a trip to Venice as a break from their busy lives. It is a chance for them to savour the beauty and history of Venice, and to relax and spend precious time together. The reality turns out to be very different when Eric, who is normally never sick, develops a major nose bleed and then has a stroke. And that is only the beginning of their problems. Caught in a medical system which is underfunded and under-resourced, in a country where they do not speak the language, it is a true nightmare.
Ruth's memoir of this struggle and of their journey back to Australia on a medical evacuation, and then Eric's subsequent 'last journey' is very detailed and starkly honest, yet at the same time very personal and moving. It is not all inward looking however, as Ruth also pays tribute by virtue of the story to their family and the medical and nursing staff in both countries. But above all it is a tribute to Eric and their love for each other.
The writing is a little choppy, but actually better written than I was expecting, and Helen Morse does an absolutely brilliant job as narrator. ( )

Ruth and her husband were holidaying in Vienna when he had a severe stroke. This is Ruth's story of how she coped and brought him home before he died.