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Gillmor, Don. (2018). **To the River: Losing my Brother.**
Toronto: Random House Canada.

Reviewed by: Tamara Carlson, MacEwan University

Don Gillmor's book, "To the River: Losing my Brother," is a poignant blend of memoir and exhaustive study of suicide. When his younger, middle-aged brother, David, is reported missing in Whitehorse, Yukon, the author travels north to find him. Shortly after his arrival, David's body is pulled from the Yukon River and his death is tragically ruled a suicide. Overcome with grief and confusion, Gillmor embarks on a painful journey to identify what led his brother to take his own life. Along the way, he discovers David's tragic death is not an anomaly—unprecedented and unrivalled numbers of white, heterosexual middle-aged men are dying by suicide. Driven by the loss of his brother, Gillmor sets out to deconstruct these disturbing trends and determine whether David's death could have been prevented. The first half of Gillmor's book weaves a contrasting narrative between uplifting childhood memories and gut-wrenching discoveries about his brother's dysfunctional life in Whitehorse. The second half of the book provides a thorough, data-based analysis of suicide among boomers, from which Gillmor connects not only to David's death, but also to the suicides of his friends and peers. The result is an aching depiction of grief, loss and "middle-aged male despair" bolstered by the few truths we have about suicide—and hindered by the many unknowns.
Gillmor begins his story recounting his idyllic childhood in a traditional nuclear family in 1960s Winnipeg (and later Calgary). He is the eldest son to his “well-educated” architect father, “beautiful, strong-willed” mother, younger brother, David, and youngest sister, Allison. Amid heartwarming anecdotes of sibling mischief and misadventure, Gillmor presents a rich snapshot of an ideal family “living in the golden age of the North American middle class” (p. 35). Defined by affordability and optimism, the age of conformity was nearing its end, giving way to the “colourful riptide of the sixties” (p. 39). The author details sweeping social, cultural and political shifts that permeated the 1960s; however, he reflects on being sheltered from any “poverty, alcoholism, depression and madness that existed behind identical doors” (p. 37). Gillmor describes David as a sunny, outgoing, accident-prone, gifted musician who grew to embody the counterculture. While Gillmor aspired to a writing career in Toronto, David “pursued a musical life, forming a band with some friends. He worked odd jobs, played music on weekends, smoked a ton of pot” (p. 21). Eventually, David moved to Whitehorse where he stayed for twenty years, “long settled into the role of the black sheep” (p. 22).

Gillmor eschews blaming his brother's death on any singular factor, including swiftly changing family structures and functions that suffused the late sixties. Instead, he takes a contemplative stance supported by data and focused through a lens of compassionate curiosity. Gillmor notes that his brother married and had a daughter young, even though he was a "counterculture guy and it wasn't a marrying era" (p. 21). David divorces, engages in various relationships marked by infidelity, and remarries at a time when divorce had become much more common. He also drifted into addiction (a risk factor for suicide) when "he jumped on the alcohol
bandwagon in middle age and took up cocaine shortly thereafter (p. 52). Although both brothers
were raised in the same household with relatively liberal, loving and successful parents, they
seemed to experience their childhoods differently. Lamenting on their relationship—which had
become “defined by distance”—Gillmor admits to recreating his happy childhood in Toronto,
while David “[sought] refuge from it at the ends of the earth” (p. 43). In a conversation with
David’s second wife, Katherine, he learns that David “always thought he was a blemish on the
family” (p. 85), suggesting his black-sheep identity caused much of his suffering. The author links
David’s tragic experience to broader issues seen among baby boomers as a result of rapid and
widespread change that characterized the 1960s.

Throughout his book, Gillmor emphasizes the rising rate of suicides among white, middle-
class, heterosexual baby boomer men. Chapter eight offers a detailed statistical analysis of this
disturbing trend as Gillmor connects the suicides of his brother and peers to sociological and
psychological literature. The 1960s generated profound social, political and cultural
transformation that dismantled traditional norms. Society became less community-orientated and
more individualistic, weakening social bonds. Fewer people were attending church, while more
families were getting divorced. Moreover, the youthful ideals of the era may have fuelled lofty
expectations that were impossible to achieve. “[Boomers] are seen as a group that [are] overly
idealistic and haven’t faced adversity. There is a sense of entitlement that came with our sheer
numbers” (p. 140). Gillmor concludes that his generation “wasn’t designed for middle age”
(p.148), contrary to the preceding silent generation who “seemed to inhabit middle age easily
because they spent their whole lives there” (p. 149). His research proposes suicide among boomers
has less to do with poor circumstances and more to do with failed expectations. The author cites
economic issues as a major factor in the rise of boomer suicides—specifically, the occurrence of
higher debt and “an ageing workforce that can’t retrain with the speed of change in the economy”
(p. 143). Gillmor highlights a sociological survey revealing boomers experience less happiness
than the preceding and succeeding generations. He reasons that David had become entangled in a
trend of middle-aged despair left over from a “botched revolution” (p. 187).

While Gillmor recognizes the existence of various markers and patterns for suicide, he
argues that suicide is unique in the grief it produces, mysterious in nature and ultimately difficult
to study. Families, including his own, are left without closure and the never-ending question of
why. Gillmor illustrates his own obsession with the question of why in chapter seven, stating
“When people die from suicide, one of the things they leave behind is suicide itself. It becomes a
country. At first, I was a visitor, but eventually I became something of a citizen” (p. 122). Saddled
with guilt, survivors of suicide must cope with the fact that “some questions may never be
answered” (p. 124). The author concedes there are “many theories but few hard truths when it
comes to suicide” (p. 113). An obvious limitation to suicide prevention is the fact that researchers
cannot access a dead person’s thoughts. Instead, researchers must rely on personal journals, suicide
notes, others’ biased descriptions of victims, and case-by-case studies of attempted suicides. Due
to mental health stigma, suicide research is underfunded and its victims tend to suffer invisibly. At
a suicide conference with leading suicidologist, David Lester, Gillmor hears that “we really have
no idea why people kill themselves” (p. 202). Gillmor accepts it “could be the grain of sand added
to a pile that forces it to ultimately collapse, and then we hold that grain of sand responsible for
the collapse” (p. 204).

Throughout his memoir, Gillmor places his brother’s suicide into the broader social context by referencing a wide range of qualitative and quantitative data. The memoir is heavily supported by reputable news articles, sociological surveys, data from Statistics Canada, interviews with psychologists, psychiatrists and suicidologists, as well as numerous sociological and psychological studies published by accredited institutions. Additionally, Gillmor references novels, poetry, philosophical teachings, personal interviews and his own reflections to present a balanced and well-rounded portrait of suicide among baby boomers. Gillmor delivers a macro-level analysis of suicide through his examination of sociological data and trends. The author complements this data with micro-level analyses including memories of his brother, anecdotes of late colleagues and friends, and interviews with survivors of suicide.

Don Gillmor’s book “To the River: Losing my Brother,” is an authentic, achingly honest memoir that survivors of suicide will find deeply comforting. His courageous and piercing story is ideal for anyone seeking to learn more about suicide within and beyond the baby boomer generation. Academic disciplines that will benefit from this work include sociology, suicidology, psychiatry, psychology and social work. While Gillmor focuses exclusively on the suicides of white boomer men, he acknowledges the topic of suicide as “boundless and complex,” affecting many other populations.

Gillmor’s memoir invites us to contemplate how close relationships and dynamic social forces shape our identities from generation to generation. “To the River: Losing my Brother” explodes with vivid imagery and evocative prose, imbuing profound wisdom and humanity on every page.