This past year I’ve found myself frequently thinking “is this … strictly what I signed up for?” But of course, we all signed up for this thing called life and even for the lucky amongst us who have not been directly hit by COVID (or police brutality or political fracturing or other personal traumas), we’re still all experiencing a collective year of grief. We’re also experiencing acute isolation on top of it. If that weight is heavy on you - yeah, me too.
Now, listen. I am the QUEEN and CHAMPION of escapist reading to help lighten the darkness and I 100% support that coping mechanism (delightful suggestions here!) But sometimes reading a book that’s both excellent in itself as well as a reflection of our inner anger, despair, and loss? That’s exactly the ticket to have a good cry, or feel that we’re not alone, or find a nugget of hope.
So this week’s suggestions are a few books for when you’re going through it and you want someone to walk with you, but you ALSO want it to be a great read and not, like, a dreary self-help workbook. And PS - if you’re NOT going through it, these are all just fantastic, full stop!
I just finished Hamnet and - what a marvel. William Shakespeare had a son, Hamnet, who died at age 11, and this novel is the imagined story of Hamnet’s death - but really it’s all about his powerhouse mother, Agnes (AKA Anne Hathaway), and the shattering, unspeakable loss of a child. The writing is somehow both plain-faced and magical. I loved it.
If you’re feeling tender, When Breath Becomes Air might be a bit too much but when you’re ready it’s truly a beautiful work. It’s a memoir by a thirty-six year old rising star neurosurgeon who is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer out of the blue, and how he comes to understand his diagnosis and what makes life worth living. Remarkable, life-affirming, and so excellently written.
H is for Hawk is not here for your gauzy, pretty grieving. It’s the author’s nonfiction story of adopting and training a goshawk (the most challenging predator in falconry) while coping with the death of her father. This is nature, animals and humans at their most ferocious and primal, like a beautiful literary howl. SO powerful and unusual.
On the flip side, Wild is the memoir of a woman who decides to hike 1000+ miles of the Pacific Coast Trail despite still grieving her divorce and her mother’s death, coming off a streak of self destruction including a heroin flirtation, and, oh yeah, NEVER HAVING BACKPACKED BEFORE. It’s super-readable but deep, funny and self-reflective, chock full of hiking scenes, and a good meditation on what happens when you run away from pain (but then confront it.) Wild was extremely popular and yet I come across so many people who have never read it. Do it up!
Lastly: I understand that Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking is the ne plus ultra of books on grieving. I haven’t read it and am kind of afraid of her terrible power but I strive to be useful so … there you go.
A Year of Shakespeare: The Reading Challenge
“One woe doth tread upon another’s heel, so fast they follow.” - Queen Gertrude from Hamlet, Act IV, Sc. VII
Almost finished with Hamlet. A good companion for this week as the grief jumps off the page in addition to the murder, betrayal and revenge.
Since this newsletter has been kind of a downer, in place of the reading chart (already 10% through with both Shakespeare *and* the year, how?), I give you a photo of my cat Finn, who clawed at the aging binding of my Shakespeare (Complete Works, Oxford Edition, 1935) and PROCEEDED TO EAT IT. Hamlet is not made of ham, Mr. Cat!
These recommendations link directly to Bookshop.org, which supports independent bookstores across the country. When you can, please consider buying from independent bookstores.
Book recommendations from past newsletters can all be found at my Bookshop.org affiliate page. Whee!
When Breath Becomes Air was such a needed combination of tragedy and inspiration - exactly what I'd hoped a philosopher neuroscientist would have written as a contemplation of his own and all of our mortality. It's beautiful. And I hope you'll dig into The Year of Magical Thinking. It gutted me, but is also funny and clever and wonderfully completely Didion.