How to Lose Your Mother summary

Could you imagine what it’s like to have strangers approach you your entire life – yet they’re not here to tell you how great you are? They’re here to tell you how much they love your mother, how her groundbreaking novel changed their lives, how brave she was to write so candidly about female sexuality, and so on. For decades, Molly Jong-Fast served as a walking reminder of someone else’s fame.

But suddenly, everything changed. Strangers no longer approached her to praise her mother’s feminist legacy – instead, they whispered concerned questions about her increasingly erratic behavior. The shift was unmistakable and heartbreaking: people who once celebrated Jong’s boldness now felt embarrassed by her confusion. In one particularly jarring instance, Jong commented “neat” on someone’s Instagram post about their deceased father.

As her mother’s dementia progressed, the author began to reflect more and more on her childhood. Her parents met through her grandfather, Communist writer Howard Fast. He had invited Erica Jong to one of his legendary parties. When her chauffeur failed to show up, he sent his son Jonathan to pick her up in his green MG. After that, everything moved very quickly. Erica Jong jetted over to the Dominican Republic to divorce her second husband. Shortly after, she and Jonathan were married. 

The family initially settled in bohemian 1970s Malibu, living in a shack between rock musicians and writer Henry Miller. But concerned that West Coast living would corrupt their future child, they eventually relocated to a Connecticut house constructed from old barns. Amidst this idyllic backdrop, the author’s parents indulged in organic food, marijuana, and mutual irritation.

We return to a time closer to the present, and the author is facing not one, but two life-altering crises: her mother is losing her mind while her husband is dying. Between doctor’s appointments and meetings with lawyers and estate agents, she barely has time to feel sorry for herself. 

In a rare moment of grace, one of her husband’s doctors delivers unexpected hope: surgery could “cure” Matt’s neuroendocrine pancreatic cancer. But the relief is brief  –  a little later, they find out that the so-called “good” cancer Matt has already spread to his lymph nodes. This means a forty to fifty percent chance of recurrence. Suddenly, the couple’s existence becomes an endless series of percentage calculations on exactly how long he has left to live.

Matt’s treatment shows promising results – his medication is working, and the doctors have a new plan to attack the liver metastasis. Yet this good news arrives alongside a devastating loss: Matt’s ninety-one-year-old father Stu dies after months in a coma, adding another layer of grief to an already unbearable year. 

Meanwhile, COVID’s lockdowns have permanently severed her mother and stepfather from reality. In many ways, they never emerge from quarantine, drinking and watching television until noon, forgetting about their personal hygiene, rambling incoherently. 

In early 2023, the author finally succeeded in moving her mother and Ken into an expensive nursing home in Manhattan. That same year, her mother’s masterpiece Fear of Flying celebrated its fiftieth anniversary. In a moment of cruel irony, the novel received major coverage in The New York Times Book Review – the literary recognition Erica Jong had craved her entire career. Yet by this point, she was already too far gone to comprehend the significance of this moment. She couldn’t even remember writing the book that defined her legacy.

As the author dismantled her childhood apartment, selling off her mother’s carefully curated book collection and designer clothes, she found herself literally deconstructing “the great Erica Jong.” The process felt like an archaeological excavation of a life built on performance and pretense.