May 2022
KIRKUS Review
In this memoir, a man remembers an emotionally turbulent childhood and the long shadow it cast over his adult life.
Cocorocchio grew up in postwar Italy during the 1950s and ’60s in Sant’Elia Fiumerapido, not far from Rome, his world infused with the traumas of the suffering nation, a ruined cosmos sensitively described. The author and his family contended with austere financial hardship. They all lived in a two-room apartment that didn’t even have running water, forcing them to retrieve it from a fountain outside.
Cocorocchio wilted both under the mercurial anger of his father and the guilt trips of his mother, the “Queen of Martyrs.” The author’s parents finally moved to Canada in 1964—his father was motivated less by an aspiration than a “deep desire to leave” Italy. But that fresh start did little to alleviate the perennial tension between Cocorocchio and his parents, an emotional conflict that burdened him his entire life but that he didn’t fully confront until he was a grown man: “I must have been in my forties when I first became aware of the yearning that had been festering inside me my whole life. A pining for some lost opportunity—to have been stillborn, and for my mother to have died while giving birth to me.”
The author chronicles his story with admirable, even courageous candor—besides poverty and familial conflicts, he endured sexual abuse as a child, a string of failed marriages as an adult, and the heartbreaking loss of a daughter to cancer. But this is a deeply personal memoir, an emotionally painful chronicle that seems intended for those in Cocorocchio’s circle of friends and family; the remembrance concludes with a brief commentary from a psychiatrist. As intelligent and frank as this book genuinely is, it is too narrow to appeal to a broad readership.
An impressively forthcoming yet idiosyncratic recollection.
KIRKUS Review
In this memoir, a man remembers an emotionally turbulent childhood and the long shadow it cast over his adult life.
Cocorocchio grew up in postwar Italy during the 1950s and ’60s in Sant’Elia Fiumerapido, not far from Rome, his world infused with the traumas of the suffering nation, a ruined cosmos sensitively described. The author and his family contended with austere financial hardship. They all lived in a two-room apartment that didn’t even have running water, forcing them to retrieve it from a fountain outside.
Cocorocchio wilted both under the mercurial anger of his father and the guilt trips of his mother, the “Queen of Martyrs.” The author’s parents finally moved to Canada in 1964—his father was motivated less by an aspiration than a “deep desire to leave” Italy. But that fresh start did little to alleviate the perennial tension between Cocorocchio and his parents, an emotional conflict that burdened him his entire life but that he didn’t fully confront until he was a grown man: “I must have been in my forties when I first became aware of the yearning that had been festering inside me my whole life. A pining for some lost opportunity—to have been stillborn, and for my mother to have died while giving birth to me.”
The author chronicles his story with admirable, even courageous candor—besides poverty and familial conflicts, he endured sexual abuse as a child, a string of failed marriages as an adult, and the heartbreaking loss of a daughter to cancer. But this is a deeply personal memoir, an emotionally painful chronicle that seems intended for those in Cocorocchio’s circle of friends and family; the remembrance concludes with a brief commentary from a psychiatrist. As intelligent and frank as this book genuinely is, it is too narrow to appeal to a broad readership.
An impressively forthcoming yet idiosyncratic recollection.
What some readers have said about Bruno’s early writing …
… great piece. I like your clarity and use of dialogue … I look forward to reading more!
… I feel very privileged … it is such a personal account … you allow yourself to be very vulnerable … your writing is terrific … I experienced your pain and confusion … I loved the toy soldiers … that imaginary play that seemed to continue no matter what was happening … loved the way you took charge of the armies … how you were in total control.
… you “endured” but also survived. All the emotional work you have done and continue to do speaks of survivorship.
… great piece. I like your clarity and use of dialogue … I look forward to reading more!
… I feel very privileged … it is such a personal account … you allow yourself to be very vulnerable … your writing is terrific … I experienced your pain and confusion … I loved the toy soldiers … that imaginary play that seemed to continue no matter what was happening … loved the way you took charge of the armies … how you were in total control.
… you “endured” but also survived. All the emotional work you have done and continue to do speaks of survivorship.
February 2022
A Psychotherapeutic Perspective
By Peter DeRoche, MD, Psychiatrist, Assistant Professor at the University of Toronto
In his memoir, MEA CULPA: A PLEA OF INNOCENCE, Bruno Cocorocchio embarks on an archeological endeavor, a series of excavations. The site is his life. Within each chapter, or ‘dig’, Bruno exposes events from the past that have contributed to his damaged sense of self. Meticulously, he brings to the surface ‘artifacts of life’ that are the clues to his suffering. Reassembling this history enables him to understand what happened instead of who to blame for his maladjustments.
Courageously, Bruno focuses on his relationship with his parents, particularly his mother. He describes the impact of poverty and the postwar Italian diaspora upon his development creating a daring coming of age narrative about trauma. Bruno writes about the shame and guilt that he endured in his primary relationships resulting in lifelong struggles with self-esteem and identity. His story becomes a compelling example of what John Bowlby has theorized in his famous studies on ‘maternal deprivation’ and how it thwarts emotional growth (Bretherton, 1992).
Over the years, much research has been done in attachment theory which has confirmed that disruptions in a secure connection between mother and child are likely to cause anxiety which can have negative impacts on adult mental health, personality development, future relationships, and ways of coping (Maunder and Hunter, 2015).
Modern psychology unequivocally demonstrates the detrimental effects of poverty and physical, emotional, and sexual abuse on the trajectory of life. These cumulative ‘adverse childhood experiences’ (ACEs), as originally described by V. J. Felitti (1998), add layers of unhappiness and dysfunction to the adult lives of those who suffered the consequences. An unfortunate result of these adversities is often passed on through generations unless significant insight and healing takes place. More recently, the 2021 book, Damaged: Childhood Trauma, Adult Illness, and the Need for a Health Care Revolution, by Robert Maunder and Jonathan Hunter, challenges us to recognize that trauma permeates society. They analyze a patient’s relationship with his therapist to demonstrate the pervasive nature of ACEs in a person’s life.
Fortuitously, Bruno’s book is an eloquent illustration of how multiple childhood traumas persist to influence the trajectory of his life, no matter how hard he tries to put them aside. Bruno had no choice but to learn resilience from an early age. He put it to good use, but paid a high price. He accepted the pain despite his continued efforts to uncover its source. The suppression may well have led to chronic illness.
In their 2021 book, What Happened to You? Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing, Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey point out that resilience is a coping mechanism that we learn. They write: “We can help each other heal, but often assumptions about resilience and grit blind us to the healing that leads us down the painful path to wisdom” (189).
In his memoir, Bruno extends an invitation to us to channel our resilience and join his expedition to unearth remnants of the past. The aim is to help heal the wounds and, hopefully, disrupt the transmission of trauma to future generations.
A Psychotherapeutic Perspective
By Peter DeRoche, MD, Psychiatrist, Assistant Professor at the University of Toronto
In his memoir, MEA CULPA: A PLEA OF INNOCENCE, Bruno Cocorocchio embarks on an archeological endeavor, a series of excavations. The site is his life. Within each chapter, or ‘dig’, Bruno exposes events from the past that have contributed to his damaged sense of self. Meticulously, he brings to the surface ‘artifacts of life’ that are the clues to his suffering. Reassembling this history enables him to understand what happened instead of who to blame for his maladjustments.
Courageously, Bruno focuses on his relationship with his parents, particularly his mother. He describes the impact of poverty and the postwar Italian diaspora upon his development creating a daring coming of age narrative about trauma. Bruno writes about the shame and guilt that he endured in his primary relationships resulting in lifelong struggles with self-esteem and identity. His story becomes a compelling example of what John Bowlby has theorized in his famous studies on ‘maternal deprivation’ and how it thwarts emotional growth (Bretherton, 1992).
Over the years, much research has been done in attachment theory which has confirmed that disruptions in a secure connection between mother and child are likely to cause anxiety which can have negative impacts on adult mental health, personality development, future relationships, and ways of coping (Maunder and Hunter, 2015).
Modern psychology unequivocally demonstrates the detrimental effects of poverty and physical, emotional, and sexual abuse on the trajectory of life. These cumulative ‘adverse childhood experiences’ (ACEs), as originally described by V. J. Felitti (1998), add layers of unhappiness and dysfunction to the adult lives of those who suffered the consequences. An unfortunate result of these adversities is often passed on through generations unless significant insight and healing takes place. More recently, the 2021 book, Damaged: Childhood Trauma, Adult Illness, and the Need for a Health Care Revolution, by Robert Maunder and Jonathan Hunter, challenges us to recognize that trauma permeates society. They analyze a patient’s relationship with his therapist to demonstrate the pervasive nature of ACEs in a person’s life.
Fortuitously, Bruno’s book is an eloquent illustration of how multiple childhood traumas persist to influence the trajectory of his life, no matter how hard he tries to put them aside. Bruno had no choice but to learn resilience from an early age. He put it to good use, but paid a high price. He accepted the pain despite his continued efforts to uncover its source. The suppression may well have led to chronic illness.
In their 2021 book, What Happened to You? Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing, Bruce Perry and Oprah Winfrey point out that resilience is a coping mechanism that we learn. They write: “We can help each other heal, but often assumptions about resilience and grit blind us to the healing that leads us down the painful path to wisdom” (189).
In his memoir, Bruno extends an invitation to us to channel our resilience and join his expedition to unearth remnants of the past. The aim is to help heal the wounds and, hopefully, disrupt the transmission of trauma to future generations.
