Inheriting Magic: My Journey Through Grief, Joy, Celebration, and Making Every Day Magical (book review)

I was clearly disappointed...

bookshelves: buddy-read, ebook, memoir

As a big fan of Jennifer Love Hewitt since her Party of Five days, I knew Inheriting Magic was one memoir I needed to read. My mind lit up whenever I saw her Instagram stories talking about the writing process in interviews and podcasts. I couldn’t wait. And given the heavy subject matter, as well as the emotions on display while talking about her mom (whom sadly died of cancer in 2012,) I was confident it would be a good read.

It had the potential to be just that—perhaps even more—if the majority of Inheriting Magic had maintained the hard-hitting emotional impact that Hewitt painstakingly achieved in the preface and first chapter. Another aspect of the latter that I appreciated is her refusal to adhere to her devastating loss. She obviously could have, and I wish she had tapped deeper into that pain (to some degree,) but I suspect she didn’t want to inundate the reader with a lot of sadness. Not only that, but JLH has an air about her of monumental strength, and I doubt she’s one to wallow at home for months at a time. The fact is, she couldn’t. Circumstances prevented her from doing so. In retrospect, becoming an expecting mother and wife to actor Brian Hallisay (whom she met on the set of the controversial Lifetime series, The Client List,) were her saving graces.

I’d walked out of her front door hopeful and laughing, and now I could barely walk in because she was gone. My while life changed. I changed.

Later, in processing my grief, I began to feel very deeply that my mom and I weren’t supposed to say goodbye. We were supposed to be laughing, planning a party, and excited for the joy it would bring us and others.

I can understand why the rest of the memoir is the way it is, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with her means of processing her grief and getting on with her life, but I wasn’t expecting ninety percent of its one hundred and twenty pages to revolve around Hewitt’s open-armed embrace of all things magical, which eventually led to her self-proclaimed Holiday Junkie status. When she uses the term “magic,” she’s not referring to a billowing cauldron and casting spells. Her form of magic consists of making even the seemingly insignificant moments into lasting memories that she and their children will cherish. In particular, she made every birthday and holiday special. Magical. As extravagant as many of them sounded, she emphasized that it’s not about being the biggest celebration or spending the most money. It’s about how they make her children feel, the joy they bring to their lives.

I understand and love that sentiment, but for the average person, throwing frequent parties simply isn’t feasible. Even if you’re the most frugal person who has a great job, celebrating most occasions the way she writes about them isn’t very realistic. Not when you consider the increasingly expensive cost of living, bills to pay, and all the little things that inevitable arise. Yes, there are ways of finding Amazon deals or from local businesses like Michael’s or Hobby Lobby, but those reduced prices add up quickly, too.

The latter wasn’t my biggest issue, though it is significant. My biggest constructive criticism is the overall execution of the book itself, which actually felt like two separate books with surface level cohesiveness. I understand how the death of her mother, Patricia Hewitt, and creating magic are connected. It was her means of remembering her mom, and ensuring that her legacy remained intact; creating magic was how she mourned. There’s nothing wrong with that. We all process death differently.

However, I think it would’ve been a stronger work if there had been a more clear connection to the two facets of her memoir. For instance, she could’ve incorporated little interludes or introspective scenes where the reader was shown the emotional toll she was experiencing. Or depictions of her traipsing through life without her best friend, as she went through the various stages of grief. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any of that. I can’t stress enough that Inheriting Magic felt like two different books.

As adults, we don’t think we can stop everything and just live. We are always searching for something, or trying to create the next thing, trying to give our kids everything. We don’t believe it’s okay to just take a break, but it is. My kids just wanted us. Our time.

Ultimately, I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it, either. It was a fun read, and Hewitt put a unique spin on what the memoir can be. It was interesting to read about one of my favorite actresses, and I closed the book feeling like I got to know her and her beautiful family a little better. The personal photos and stunning artwork throughout were nice additions.

*rating rounded up to 2.5 stars*