Not quite a year ago I read Dave Cullen's Columbine, which was published in 2009. Its a long book and it was such an intense experience that I started having nightmares about the tragedy, something I've never had happen from reading a book.

At one point, Cullen states that neither the Harris' nor the Klebold's had ever spoken publicly about Columbine. It felt like such a huge missing piece. And it raised questions like: "Well, why haven't they ever spoken out?" "If they didn't do anything wrong, why wouldn't they say something? Defend themselves?" "What could have gone so wrong in their homes that it culminated in this?" "What must they have felt?" "What must they still be feeling?"

I regarded the parents and their decision to remain quiet with suspicion. So when I saw that Sue Klebold had released a book, I found myself eager to get answers to some of those questions.

I give all this background because without realizing it, I had been thinking about this book as a companion to Columbine. But instead, it turned out to be a powerful lesson for me in compassion, as well as a meditation on assumption, perspective, and the complexities of human nature.

It's an honest and brave book and it is very well written. Sue's topics ranges widely: the Klebold's early family life, the events from the day, the immediate aftermath, the prolonged aftermath, the lawsuits, the interactions with victim's families, the range of people's responses toward Sue over the years, the lasting effects on her own physical and mental health, the role of media and reporting ethics, mental health (which she calls brain health), depression, suicide, and suicide prevention.

Sue begins each chapter with diary entries from either before or after the tragedy. She acknowledges all the questions I listed above and many more. She says she's spent the last 17 years asking herself the same questions and attempting to answer them as best she can. Her approach is even; she doesn't try to cast herself, her family, or Dylan in any particular light, even when her thoughts, actions, or feelings are unflattering. For example, she spent months in denial about Dylan's role in Columbine, thinking there was no way he was willing participant - thinking he must have been pressured into participating. She acknowledges that there were signs that things were wrong in the months leading up to the events, even if she didn't know enough at the time to do anything differently. She also discusses a seemingly tone-deaf decision to go get her hair cut the day after the shooting which was highly scrutinized by the media. These are painful moments, but they provide balance and are what make her story so human.

I listened to this book, which is read by the author. There is a sadness in her voice as she reads. There is also compassion and love. At no point does her love mitigate her outrage, horror, anger, grief, or fear. She never attempts to excuse or defend Dylan or his actions. And she never apologizes for loving her son, which is perhaps her bravest statement of all. Instead she offers her unique perspective on Dylan, her regrets about her role in what happened, the lessons she has learned, and her thoughts on how similar events might be prevented though better mental health care and suicide prevention.

This book sits heavy on the heart, but it is a worthwhile and eye-opening read and I wish Sue Klebold the best.