CW: My Broken Mariko discusses domestic abuse, suicidal ideation, suicide, and the complex emotions of those left behind compassionately – but honestly and openly. This review will, of necessity, do the same. If you find these subjects triggering, please skip this one or use caution if you do opt to proceed. 

Shiino learns from the news that her lifelong best friend Mariko died. The report states that Mariko fell from the balcony of her fourth-floor apartment and adds the contents of her stomach included a large volume of sleeping pills. It is ruled an accident, but Shiino knows the truth because she knows Mariko’s history… and because she knows Mariko.

Mariko jumped. She chose to end her own life.

Part of Shiino understands. For years, she saw the bruises Mariko’s father left on her when he was angry or drunk or when he felt like it. She knows that when Mariko’s mother left, she blamed her daughter, called her a failure and told her if she’d been a little better and a little quicker and a little smarter she might have deserved to keep her mother. Shiino watched Mariko internalize that message, watched her get involved with a string of abusive men as a result, and helped pry her out of those relationships only to see Mariko go back, believing any attention was love.

Another part of Shiino, however, is furious. How could Mariko do this to her? After all the times Shiino answered middle-of-the-night night calls, run to her defense, protect her from her father – protect her from herself – how could she just leave? How could she leave Shiino on her own with nothing and no one else? How could she disappear forever without even saying goodbye?

Waka Hirako’s My Broken Mariko is a difficult book. It’s a beautiful and tragic book, but it also has uplifting moments. It celebrates life and the human capacity for love while mourning and exposing some of what is worst about us. It is complicated and complex and very much a flex, proof of what comics as a medium is capable of, including an open discussion of what continues to be an extremely personal and oft stigmatized topic.

Despite the ease with which terms like anxiety and depression are bandied about these days, despite the statistics on how many Americans take SSRIs and other psychiatric medications, very few of us publicly delve into the ways mental illness has affected our lives – nor do we openly discuss the times we’ve seriously considered, or attempted, to end our lives.

Even in healthcare, the term attention seeking is still freely applied to both suicidal ideation and self-harm behaviors, such as cutting and binge drinking, and the contemptuous tone with which the term is frequently uttered would discourage anyone, especially those who are already feeling detached and lonely, from asking for more help. People are released after attempts with little or no support other than instructions to follow up within two weeks, during which they often make another attempt and often succeed.

My Broken Mariko reminds us that without kindness – without that support – many people will eventually succeed. That while stigma exists, while we continue to hide behind stigma and political correctness and polite society, people will continue to die.

Waka’s book does something few others have done, as well; it examines suicide from the perspective of the survivor. From the perspective of the person who is left behind, left wondering what else they could have done and drowning in guilt. Unlike many books, which make that person a paragon or hero, Waka shows us that side honestly.

Shiino has always loved Mariko; she’s always supported her but hasn’t always done everything “right.” She’s called her “stupid” for not instinctively understanding things those who grow up in more stable households do. When she learns Mariko has gone back to an abusive partner, she yells at her. There are times Shiino pulls away from Mariko without explaining why. All of these things are human and born of love but confusing and inexplicable to someone trapped in the cycle of abuse, thus making them impossible for Mariko to process. It’s also an important reminder for those of us desperate to help someone we love and maybe, just maybe, it can be a lifeline to those in Mariko’s position.

It’s hard to apply a word such as like to a book like My Broken Mariko. I wish stories such as these weren’t necessary. I wish no one had to go through the horrors Mariko did. This nuanced portrayal is an important one, however, and it’s one people should read, if they’re able, if they want to understand both what it’s like to live within a cycle of abuse and what it’s like to try to help someone break out of it and fail.

My Broken Mariko by Waka Hirako (Yen Press) is available now.