MEMORY WEAVERS: AWARD-WINNING NOVEL OF TWO WOMEN BONDED BY TRAUMAS

By Muffy Walker

Reviewed by Pennell Paugh

San Diego resident, Muffy Walker celebrates the release of her debut novel, Dream Weavers. The book has received the Firebird Book Award, the Literary Titan Silver Book Award, the Hawthorne Prize, and was selected as finalist for the 2025 International Impact Book Awards in the Women's Fiction category.

Rachel, in her early twenties, was raped in her college dorm. Traumatized, she quit college. At age 28, she continued to suffer from panic attacks and sometimes hallucinated a replay of her rape.

Hadley, in her forties, has three children and a loving husband. Unfortunately, she has a form of early-onset Alzheimer’s.

Meeting in a psychiatric practice waiting room, the two women form a supportive friendship. Their bond strengthens as each struggles with individual memory issues.

Memory Weavers helps the reader to understand the struggle of each woman and shows how they affect their family members. The story attests to the power of friendship. Rachel gains needed help to recover and heal while Hadley’s husband and children benefit from Rachel’s friendship as they cope with the painful decline of their parent and wife.

Below is an excerpt from the novel:

PRESENT

Rachel looked around nervously, forced herself to smile, and then gently pushed open the door. The silent room was sterile and painted in an ashen shade of white. The patient who had been in the other bed was no longer there. A lone vase of wilted daisies by her bed bowed their heads as though mourning the patient’s passing. Looking further into the room, Rachel noticed the note on the rocking chair telling visitors that Hadley’s husband, Bergen, had gone for coffee and would be right back. Then, finally, she focused on her friend. “Good morning, Hadley. It’s Rachel.” She gently pushed on the mattress next to her. “Can you hear me?” She wasn’t sure what she was expecting since Hadley hadn’t opened her eyes or responded in days. Her skin had a grayish hue and was cool to the touch. It shocked Rachel that someone as young as fifty-one could look so old. The horizontal fluorescent light over the bed cast a sickly hue over Hadley’s tired face. The furrow in her brow seemed deeper, angrier. Her lips were dry and pasty white. Above her bed, big orange letters announced DNR—do not resuscitate. The heart monitor, now disconnected, had stopped beeping. The only sounds Rachel could hear were the nurses hustling about in the station across the hall and various noises of grief and trauma from the next room.

With no acknowledgment from Hadley, Rachel felt sure her friend wasn’t aware she had a visitor. She sat gingerly on the side of the bed, trying not to move the air mattress supporting Hadley’s emaciated frame. It had been two weeks since Hadley ate any real food. A pink and green blanket, crocheted by hospice volunteers, lay rolled up under her left arm, helping to support an IV. A picture of Bergen and the three kids was taped to the side rail of the bed. Rachel placed her backpack on the floor and took out a small, soft hairbrush. She removed the terry cloth turban Hadley wore and tenderly brushed her friend’s thinning blond hair. Knowing that musical memory is preserved right up to the end, Rachel softly hummed “Memory,” Hadley’s favorite Barbra Streisand song, hoping it would bring her friend some level of peace and contentment. Amid her intense sorrow, Rachel felt a profound sense of intimacy, having navigated this journey together with Hadley. Tears welled in Rachel’s lower lids.

Muffy Walker has written chapters, guides, and newspaper articles on mental health and stigma. Holding a Master’s in psychiatric nursing from the University of Pennsylvania as well as an MBA, her diverse educational background reflects her commitment to both the intricacies of mental health and the complexities of business management.