I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death

 

I Am I Am I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death by Maggie O'Farrell

Nonfiction - Memoir

2017

Finished on November 10, 2025 and July 16, 2026

Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good) and 4/5 (Very Good)

Update: I read this a second time for book club. It was good, but not as good as the first time around. Not one I'll read again, so I've passed it on.

Publisher's Blurb:

We are never closer to life than when we brush up against the possibility of death.

I Am, I Am, I Am is Maggie O'Farrell's astonishing memoir of the near-death experiences that have punctuated and defined her life. The childhood illness that left her bedridden for a year, which she was not expected to survive. A teenage yearning to escape that nearly ended in disaster. An encounter with a disturbed man on a remote path. And, most terrifying of all, an ongoing, daily struggle to protect her daughter--for whom this book was written--from a condition that leaves her unimaginably vulnerable to life's myriad dangers.

Seventeen discrete encounters with Maggie at different ages, in different locations, reveal a whole life in a series of tense, visceral snapshots. In taut prose that vibrates with electricity and restrained emotion, O'Farrell captures the perils running just beneath the surface, and illuminates the preciousness, beauty, and mysteries of life itself.

I've read all but one of Maggie O'Farrell's books (The Marriage Portrait) and other than a couple of her novels, I Am I Am I Am is my favorite of her entire collection of published works. Wow. She has crafted a lovely memoir, filled with love, fear, and the most near-misses a human being could possibly encounter in their lifetime. O'Farrell is both a very unlucky and lucky woman to have experienced so many brushes with death. And she doesn't simply recount those situations in a cut and dried manner, but weaves poetic details throughout each beautifully rendered essay. I held my breath as I read a couple of the vignettes, fearful of the outcome despite knowing she is currently alive and (hopefully!) well.

There is nothing unique or special in a near-death experience. They are not rare; everyone, I would venture, has had them, at one time or another, perhaps without even realizing it. The brush of a van too close to your bicycle, the tired medic who realises that a dosage ought to be checked one final time, the driver who has drunk too much and is reluctantly persuaded to relinquish the car keys, the train missed after sleeping through an alarm, the aeroplane not caught, the virus never inhaled, the assailant never encountered, the path not taken. We are, all of us, wandering around in a state of oblivion, borrowing our time, seizing our days, escaping our fates, slipping through loopholes, unaware of when the axe may fall. 

I can't imagine anyone reading this memoir who doesn't revisit their own close calls. While I don't care to go into detail of the times that I might have avoided the Grim Reaper, O'Farrell's encounters do remind me of a few. I suppose anyone who has given birth, gone swimming in the ocean, hiked alone, or flown in an airplane will find themselves nodding their heads as they read this book. The final essay had holding my breath, especially knowing someone who has a child with severe allergies to numerous food items.

I know I must nod calmly when people tell me they understand exactly how I feel because they have a gluten allergy, which makes them really bloated whenever they eat bread. I know to be patient and genial when I have to explain that, no, it’s not OK to bring that hummus into our house. No, it’s not a good idea to give her a little bit to get her used to it. No, please don’t open that near her. Yes, your lunch could kill my child.

I loved this beautiful memoir. It's a keeper.

Highly recommend.

Raising Hare: A Memoir

 

Raising Hare: A Memoir by Chloe Dalton

Nonfiction

2025

Narrated by Louise Brealey

Finished on 4/29/2026

Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A moving and fascinating meditation on freedom, trust, loss, and our relationship with the natural world, explored through the story of one woman’s unlikely friendship with a wild hare.

Imagine you could hold a baby hare and bottle-feed it. Imagine that it lived under your roof and lolloped around your bedroom at night, drumming on the duvet cover when it wanted your attention. Imagine that, over two years later, it still ran in from the fields when you called it and slept in your house for hours on end and gave birth to leverets in your study. For political advisor and speechwriter Chloe Dalton, who spent lockdown deep in the English countryside, far away from her usual busy London life, this became her unexpected reality.

In February 2021, Dalton stumbles upon a newborn hare—a leveret—that had been chased by a dog. Fearing for its life, she brings it home, only to discover how impossible it is to rear a wild hare, most of whom perish in captivity from either shock or starvation. Through trial and error, she learns to feed and care for the leveret with every intention of returning it to the wilderness. Instead, it becomes her constant companion, wandering the fields and woods at night and returning to Dalton’s house by day. Though Dalton feared that the hare would be preyed upon by foxes, stoats, feral cats, raptors, and even people, she never tried to restrict it to the house. Each time the hare leaves, Chloe knows she may never see it again. Yet she also understands that to confine it would be its own kind of death.

Raising Hare chronicles their journey together, while also taking a deep dive into the lives and nature of hares, and the way they have been viewed historically in art, literature, and folklore. We witness first-hand the joy at this extraordinary relationship between human and animal, which serves as a reminder that the best things, and most beautiful experiences, arise when we least expect them.

I did not expect to enjoy Raising Hare was well as I did! When I first learned about Dalton's memoir, I associated it with H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald, which I read in 2017. (Does anyone else look back on a review with astonishment that it was written almost a decade ago rather than two or three years??) While I liked Macdonald's book, it's not one that moved me with the same tenderness as Raising Hare. 

Dalton educates her readers on the differences between hares and rabbits, as well as other details about the life and history of the hare. I have deep respect for the author who rescued the leveret, but did not cage or attempt to adopt it as a pet. She did not name the small creature, nor did she confine it to her home. I thought it was remarkable that once old enough to leave the safety of Dalton's home, it returned day after day, joining Dalton in the house, eating the oats provided for nourishment, as well as giving birth to its own leverets behind the curtains in Chloe's study. Each time the hare disappeared for a few weeks, I felt a sense of foreboding, worried that it had been attacked by a fox or raptor (or run over by a car or tractor), and breathed a sigh of relief when it returned from its adventures. 

Part memoir, part natural science, Raising Hare is both entertaining and informative. It's a beautiful story that I won't soon forget. The audiobook is read by Louise Brealey, whose lovely narration added to my enjoyment. 

Highly recommend!

Note: I understand the print edition includes illustrations. All the more reason to order a gift copy in order to take a peek before wrapping!

Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life

 

Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

Nonfiction - Memoir

2005

Finished on November 29, 2025

Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

How do you conjure a life? Give the truest account of what you saw, felt, learned, loved, strived for? For Amy Krouse Rosenthal, the surprising answer came in the form of an encyclopedia. In Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life  she has ingeniously adapted this centuries-old format for conveying knowledge into a poignant, wise, often funny, fully realized memoir.

 

Using mostly short entries organized from A to Z, many of which are cross-referenced, Rosenthal captures in wonderful and episodic detail the moments, observations, and emotions that comprise a contemporary life. Start anywhere—preferably at the beginning—and see how one young woman’s alphabetized existence can open up and define the world in new and unexpected ways.

 

An ordinary life, perhaps, but an extraordinary book.

I've never read anything like this book! Not only is it comprised of alphabetical entries about everything under the sun, but even the copyright page, inside cover flaps, and back cover blurbs are unique and entertaining.

From the copyright page:

Not responsible for lost or stolen property.

Not responsible for the weather, the moon, or scalding nature of soup.

Not responsible for the extra s some people add to the word occasion.

Not responsible for the short, edible window between

the banana is not ripe enough and the banana is rotten.

About this book:

I am not writing a memoir (I have no story); I am not writing an autobiography (for who really cares). I am writing a personal encyclopedia, a thorough documentation of an ordinary life in the end of the twentieth century/beginning of the twenty-first. And in fact, while I didn't know it then, I started this encyclopedia nearly two years ago, when I began gathering my columns/writings and putting them in alphabetical order. And I began it even before that, when I was busy making charts and tables for no apparent reason. And I began it even before that...

Allotting Enough Time to Make Flight:

I always work backward. Okay, the flight leaves at 11:15, so I should be at the airport by 9:15. That means I should leave the house at 8:30--no, play it safe, could be a lot of traffic, say 8:15. That means I need to get up at 7:30; that gives me 45 minutes to get ready and finish any last minute packing. As soon as I've come to this conclusion, I'll immediately repeat the whole internal dialogue-calculations, see if I come up with the same time estimates. I'll do this at least a couple more times the day before I leave, on of the times being that night when I set my alarm clock.

Broker:

It is weird and unsettling that a person who is hired to handle your money, make wise decisions about it, and, ostensibly, keep you from losing it is called a broker. 

Brother:

My brother, who grew up with three sisters, was I won't say how many years old when he finally realized that he did not have to wrap the towel around his chest when he came out of the shower. 

Dishwasher:

It is very difficult to try to load someone else's dishwasher; everyone has their own method. Glasses stacked in this row, bowls this way, silverware facing up, down--it's a highly personal thing. The few times someone outside the family has loaded ours, I opened it up and am disoriented, dismayed even, to find plates in the wrong slots, bowls on the top (the top?!), and even a skillet crammed in there. It's just too counter-productive and unsettling, even though it is nice of them to try to help.

Improvisation at Concerts:

I go to a concert, a band I really love. The band plays the first few bars of my absolutely favorite song, but then... what's that? They're altering it, improvising. The band thinks this is refreshing and artful, a welcome deviation, a prize for attending. But I am irked and disappointed they didn't play it just as I've enjoyed it on the CD all these years.

Potato Chips: 

When I eat potato chips, particularly the crunchy kettle kind, I find myself looking through the bag for the good chips. Somehow a good chip is one that is extra thick looking, and curled onto itself or folded, as opposed to straight and flat. It is a treat, a victory, to find a really good chip and pluck it from the bag. The thinner, straight, or broken ones aren't nearly as pleasing.

Some entries had me nodding my head in agreement and others had me laughing out loud. This is not a book to read straight through in a couple of sittings. I enjoyed reading several pages here and there between a few other books. 

Sadly, Amy Krouse Rosenthal passed away of ovarian cancer in 2017. She was 51. Her husband, Jason Rosenthal, has written a book called My Wife Said You May Want to Marry Me: A Memoir. 

Highly Recommend

Safekeeping: Some True Stories From a Life

 

Safekeeping: Some True Stories From a Life by Abigail Thomas

Nonfiction - Memoir

2000

Finished on November 26, 2025

Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A beautifully crafted and inviting accounting of one woman's life, Safekeeping offers a sublimely different kind of autobiography. Setting aside a straight-forward narrative in favor of brief passages of vivid prose, Thomas revisits the pivotal moments and tiny incidents that have shaped her: pregnancy at 18, single motherhood of three by the age of 26, the joys and frustrations of her marriages, and the death of her second husband. With startling clarity and unwavering composure, Thomas tells stories made of mistakes and loyalties, adventures and domesticities, of experience both deeply personal and universal.

This is a book in which silence speaks as eloquently as what is revealed. Openhearted and effortlessly funny, these brilliantly selected glimpses of the arc of life are, in an age of too much confession, a welcome tonic.

This is the third book that I've read by Abigail Thomas. I first discovered her memoir A Three Dog Life in 2007 after reading about it on Nan's blog (Letters from a Hill Farm). I followed up with What Comes Next and How to Like It in 2016. Safekeeping was published in 2000 and provided me with greater insight into Abigail's earlier years, but I didn't care for it as much as her later works. The vignettes jump around in time, as well as point of view (first person, third person, etc.). This slim book reads a bit like a novel, and is just shy of 200 pages, so it's a quick read, but with little take-aways. I had planned to read Still Life at Eighty as soon as I finished Safekeeping, but I think I'll hold off. Maybe I'll re-read the two I loved and then finish up with Still Life at Eighty.

"An artful scatter of snapshot moments... revealing a life that's remarkable not for its events but for the way it's recalled, with rue, insight and wit." ~ Rocky Mountain News

"Razor-sharp pieces of radiant truth.... Not so much memoir as a stained-glass window of scenes garnered from a life. This is an unforgettable portrait of a grown-up woman who has learned to rejoice in being herself. Reading it, we feel the crazy beauty of life." ~ Anne Lamott, author of Bird by Bird

Altitude Adjustment: A Quest for Love, Home, and Meaning in the Tetons

 

Altitude Adjustment: A Quest for Love, Home, and Meaning in the Tetons by Mary Beth Baptiste

Nonfiction - Memoir

2014

Finished on November 23, 2025

Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Aware that her youth is slipping by, Mary Beth Baptiste decides to escape her lackluster, suburban life in coastal Massachusetts to pursue her lifelong dream of being a Rocky Mountain woodswoman. To the horror of her traditional, ethnic family, she divorces her husband of fifteen years, dusts off her wildlife biology degree, and flees to Moose, Wyoming, for a job at Grand Teton National Park. There, unexpected lessons from nature and wildlife guide her journey as she creates a new life for herself. Set against the dramatic backdrop and quirky culture of Jackson Hole, this is a thoughtful, often humorous account of a woman's bumbling quest for purpose, redemption, and love.

My husband and I spent two weeks exploring the Tetons in the fall of 2024. We drove our RV from Oregon through Idaho and Montana, stopping briefly in West Yellowstone before arriving in the Grand Teton National Park. We camped at Headwaters Campground and RV Park in Moran, Colter Bay RV Park, Signal Mountain Campground, Gros Ventre Campground, and Alpine Valley RV Resort. Always on the lookout for books by local authors, I found Mary Beth Baptiste's book somewhere along the way, drawn to the cover with the stunning image of the jagged mountain peaks and John Moulton's barn in the foreground. 

My photo of John Moulton's Barn

I enjoyed reading about Mary Beth's responsibilities in her various roles as a seasonal employee at the Grand Teton’s Division of Science and Resource Management, as well as her descriptions of the locations that Rod and I visited during our trip. I could easily picture Jenny Lake and Moose Pond, which is where I saw my very first moose. Actually, three. Mama, papa, and baby! 

I also recognized Lupine Meadows, which is where I wound up after taking a wrong turn on the trail to Hidden Falls and Inspiration Point. Oops. Thankfully, there were no bears around, although maybe there were and my loud singing scared them away. Speaking of bears, Baptiste has more moxie than I do! Able to hike off-trail with a 40 pound backpack for three days, beat her male coworkers at target practice (for tranquilizing bears), staying calm (well mostly, other than the time she crawled up the back of a fellow ranger) during various encounters with a moose cow and a grizzly bear. Her responsibilities were varied and unpredictable. One day she may help with a breeding bird count or locate and count elk tracks. On another, she might help clear vegetation to reduce fire hazard. One day she may hike with coworkers to count bighorn sheep or help transport a great blue heron to the vet's. 

A twist of the binoculars' focus wheel and I gasp: two toddler-sized black bear cubs, one brown and one black, twined together high up in a spruce tree fifty yards away. I scan the ground for the mother. In a nearby huckleberry patch, her cinnamon-colored rump bobs like a swatch of scruffy hide on a clothesline. 

It unnerves me, this lack of boundaries. Every animal, scat, or track I find brings a new fear--a mother bear will charge, a moose will explode from the brush and trample, something out there will break through and annihilate me into dust. I long for an owl's head-turning ability so I can take it all in and see what's coming before it gets me. 

I turn and dash on tiptoes down the trail, my imagination conjuring up a multitude of lurking predators. 

This is how I remember those first years on my own in a strange place: thimblefuls of fake courage thrown at a conflagration of fear.

Halfway into the memoir, my attention began to wane. The author recounts her on-again off-again romantic relationship with a coworker that had me wanting to shake some sense into her. Mary Beth's desire for a love life after her divorce came across as immature, and some parts of the book are filled with teenage angst. The woman was in her early forties, not twenty-something! I grew anxious to finish the book and move on to something fresh, but the stories regarding the job rather than her personal life took hold once again. I was pulled back in and enjoyed the remainder of the book. So, a little uneven, but beautifully rendered, especially regarding the landscape.

Before us, smug with audacious power, the Teton range surges from the valley floor and the green-black forests, snagging cloud wisps as it rips through a meek cobalt sky.

Would I have appreciated Altitude Adjustment had I not visited the Grand Teton National Park? Probably not. And I doubt I'll read it a second time.

Recommend with reservations.

The Next Day

 

The Next Day: Transitions, Change, and Moving Forward by Melinda French Gates

Nonfiction - Memoir

2025

Finished on November 19, 2025

Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

In a rare window into some of her life’s pivotal moments, Melinda French Gates draws from previously untold stories to offer a new perspective on encountering transitions.

During times of transition, we step out of our familiar surroundings and into a new landscape, a space that can be filled with possibility but also shadowed by uncertainty. The Next Day accompanies readers through that space, offering guidance to anyone--young or old--who is navigating change, finding their bearings, or trying to move forward when the ground beneath them is shifting. 

In this deeply personal book, Melinda writes about the joyful upheaval of becoming a parent, the death of a close friend, her life after divorce, and her departure from the Gates Foundation. Sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, the stories she tells illuminate universal lessons about loosening the bonds of perfectionism, helping friends through times of crisis, trusting your inner voice, and more. Melinda also introduces readers to some of the authors, poets, and thinkers whose work she had leaned on for wisdom and comfort in moments of need.

Each one of us, no matter who we are or where we are life, is headed toward a transition of our own. With her signature warmth and grace, Melinda empowers readers to make the most of the space between an ending and a new beginning and find the courage and confidence to embrace a new day.

I was not expecting to enjoy this book as much as I did! Easily read in one sitting, Melinda Gates' memoir is conversational and engaging. The author acknowledges her position of privilege, and yet she comes across as a very humble and kind-hearted human being. 

Some passages of note:

You don't get to be my age without navigating all kinds of transitions. Some you anticipated and some you never expected. Some you embraced and some you resisted. Some you hoped for and some you fought as hard as you could. 

Still though, I believe that there are many aspects of the human experience that are universal. All of us want to feel a sense of ownership over our lives and our stories. All of us want to make meaning of the events we live through--the bitter and the sweet. All of us long for connection and the chance to be fully known.

Often when I've found myself in unfamiliar waters, I have reached across time and space to find something to buoy me in words written by someone else, sometimes someone who lived and died before I was born, someone with whom I have nothing obvious in common. In those moments, I'm glad that these people took the time to write about the things that mattered to them.

As a society, we often ascribe a certain virtue to people's lifelong dreams, as if those are, for some reason, more authentic or worthwhile than the dreams and aspirations we develop later in life. The truth, though, as Reverend McCaulley explains, is that there's important value in being willing to change your plans as your understanding of the world expands and grows more complex. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself and the people around you is to have the wisdom to know which dreams to let go of in order to make room for something new. Some dreams undoubtedly propel us forward, but others hold us back. The trick is learning to distinguish between the two--and, when you decide an old dream no longer serves you, finding the courage to slip its bonds.

... wherever we are in life, we should find a way to look back at the versions of ourselves who came before us not with shame or regret but with tenderness and compassion. The people we used to be deserve for us to remember that they knew so much less, had experienced so much less, and were doing the best they could with what they had. 

While Melinda shares candid glimpses into her personal life (the loss of a dear friend, a difficult childbirth that reminded me of my own, and a very brief mention of her divorce), The Next Day is less of a memoir and more of an inspirational read. It has the feel of a series of wise TED Talks, which is not a criticism. Fans of Kelly Corrigan, Dani Shapiro, and Anna Quindlen will appreciate this work. I enjoyed each chapter and will return to this slim book in the future for a second reading.

Highly recommend.

Memorial Days

 

Memorial Days by Geraldine Brooks

Nonfiction - Memoir

2025

Finished on November 14, 2025

Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

A heartrending and beautiful memoir of sudden loss and a journey to peace, from the bestselling, Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Horse.

Many cultural and religious traditions expect those who are grieving to step away from the world. In contemporary life, we are more often met with red tape and to-do lists. This is exactly what happened to Geraldine Brooks when her partner of more than three decades, Tony Horwitz – just sixty years old and, to her knowledge, vigorous and healthy – collapsed and died on a Washington, D. C. sidewalk.

After spending their early years together in conflict zones as foreign correspondents, Geraldine and Tony settled down to raise two boys on Martha’s Vineyard. The life they built was one of meaningful work, good humor, and tenderness, as they spent their days writing and their evenings cooking family dinners or watching the sun set with friends at Lambert’s Cove. But all of this came to an abrupt end when, on Memorial Day 2019, Geraldine received the phone call we all dread. The demands were immediate and many. Without space to grieve, the sudden loss became a yawning gulf.

Three years later, she booked a flight to a remote island off the coast of Australia with the intention of finally giving herself the time to mourn. In a shack on a pristine, rugged coast she often went days without seeing another person. There, she pondered the varied ways those of other cultures grieve, such as the people of Australia's First Nations, the Balinese, and the Iranian Shiites, and what rituals of her own might help to rebuild a life around the void of Tony's death.

A spare and profoundly moving memoir that joins the classics of the genre, Memorial Days is a portrait of a larger-than-life man and a timeless love between souls that exquisitely captures the joy, agony, and mystery of life.

I've only read two of Geraldine Brooks' novels (Year of Wonders and People of the Book), but now that I've read her recent memoir, I'm eager to try more of her books, especially Horse, which she completed after the death of her husband, Tony Horwitz. Memorial Days is an especially touching memoir in which Brooks recounts the days and weeks following the sudden death of her husband, while alternating chapters describe her retreat to Flinders Island three years later. 

When I get to Flinders Island, I will begin my own memorial days. I am taking something that our culture has stopped freely giving: the right to grieve. To shut out the world and its demands. To remember my love and to feel the immensity of his loss. "Grief is praise," writes Martin Prechtel in his book The Smell of Rain on Dust, "because it is the natural way love honors what it misses."

and

When I finally fall asleep, I don't wake till late. It's a gray, windy morning, and the sea is high. I have only a loose notion of how I will spend my time here. I will walk and reflect, taking whatever nature cares to offer me. I will write down everything I can recall about Tony's death and its aftermath. I will allow myself time and space to think about our marriage and to experience the emotions I've suppressed.

It's been over twenty years since my husband and I received the shocking news of our eldest daughter's death, and much of Brooks' thoughts on grief resonated deeply with me. I remember reading Joan Didion's book The Year of Magical Thinking shortly after Rachel's untimely death, hoping to find some comfort in Didion's words. While I highlighted several passages, the book didn't speak to me like Memorial Days. (I still have my review for that book languishing in my draft folder, and I'm not sure why I never got around to publishing it. Maybe I'll work on that in the coming weeks.)

Random Thoughts:

Geraldine's husband died on Memorial Day in 2019. Our daughter was killed on Memorial Day weekend (but not the actual day) in 2005.

Geraldine wasn't able to share the awful news of Tony's death in person with her son, having to resort to phoning him at his boarding school.  

That call, the sound of my son's sobs, in a place too far to reach for him and hug him, was a new depth of darkness on a dark, dark day.

We were living in Nebraska, and our younger daughter was in college in Texas. Making that phone call was the worst thing I have ever had to do.

I woke out of it [a dream], and there was a minute or two when everything felt fine. He wasn't dead. How ridiculous to have thought that. Yesterday--that was a dream.

Then I came fully awake. I lost him a second time.

I remember the early days when we would wake from a fitful sleep, those first moments of consciousness when we had yet to remember Rachel was gone. Like Brooks, we felt as if we were losing her a second time, day after day after day.

My sons' stories are their own to tell. I will not do that here. I will only say that on the street corner, with Bizu sagged against me, I did not know how lonely his journey would be and how little I would be able to help him.

So often when parents are dealing with their own grief, children suffer the loss of their sibling (or parent) by themselves. It was all we could do to get through each day. I often wonder if we could have done more for Amy had she lived at home rather than so far away at college.

On Grief:

In her essay "On Grief" Jennifer Senior quotes a therapist who likens the survivors of loss to passengers on a plane that has crashed into a mountaintop and must find their way down. All have broken bones; none can assist the others. Each will have to make it down alone.

On Writing:

I have written this because I needed to do it. Part of the treatment for a "complicated grief" is to relive the trauma of the death, returning to the moments again and again, striving each time to recall more detail. That is what I have tried to do.

My husband and I each created blogs comprised of letters to Rachel in the early months after her death. Those therapeutic blogs helped us deal with our grief, as well as provide our friends and family with a glimpse into how we were coping. As Joan Didion said, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.”

Our culture is averse to sad. We want people to be happy. We're chagrined and slightly offended when they're not. There is a desire to cheer them up. And then, later, there will be a glancing at the wristwatch, a tapping of the foot if they cannot be cheered, if their grief is perceived to go on too long. I wish we could resist those things.

Memorial Days is a beautiful, honest, thought-provoking memoir that touched my heart. I wish I could reach out and give Geraldine a hug. 

Highly recommend.

Truth & Beauty

 

Truth & Beauty by Ann Patchett

Nonfiction - Memoir

2004

Finished on November 4, 2025

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Ann Patchett and the late Lucy Grealy met in college in 1981, and, after enrolling in the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, began a friendship that would be as defining to both of their lives as their work. In Grealy’s critically acclaimed memoir Autobiography of a Face, she wrote about losing part of her jaw to childhood cancer, years of chemotherapy and radiation, and endless reconstructive surgeries. In Truth and Beauty, the story isn’t Lucy’s life or Ann’s life but the parts of their lives they shared. This is a portrait of unwavering commitment that spans twenty years, from the long winters of the Midwest to surgical wards to book parties in New York. Through love, fame, drugs, and despair, this is what it means to be part of two lives that are intertwined--and what happens when one is left behind.

I wanted to love this book, but I got weary of Lucy's constant neediness and craving for reassurance, begging to be loved by Ann, whining about never finding a man who would love her, lying to Ann and other friends about her drug use. Truth & Beauty started off great, and I love Patchett's prose, but the story of her friendship with Grealy was bleak and drawn out far too long.

But in the evenings when we sat in front of the fireplace talking, it always came back to the same things: she was lonely, she was depressed, she wanted a boyfriend, she couldn't understand why no one loved her. She told me that she often had a couple of drinks and a couple of Percocets before getting in her car after midnight in Vermont and driving a hundred miles an hour over the icy back roads to New York. She said that she wanted to tempt fate.

I love this metaphor:

Oh, people like to say when they hear this part of the story, this is why you and Lucy are so close. You went through the same thing. [Referring to Ann's plastic surgery after an accident.] But nothing could be farther from the truth. I read one slim volume of the available information. Lucy read the library.

In reference to writing:

We shared our ideas like sweaters, with easy exchange and lack of ownership.

Truth & Beauty is an honest and brutal (if not exhausting) account of deep friendship. There is a lot to think about when reading this memoir. What constitutes a healthy friendship? Who has a right to share such intimate details of an individual while their family members are grieving? (See Lucy's sister's article here.) Despite my frustration with Lucy, I still intend to read her memoir, Autobiography of a Face. 

I've Tried Being Nice

 

I've Tried Being Nice by Ann Leary

Nonfiction - Essays

Narrated by Ann Leary

2024

Finished on April 22, 2025

Rating: 3.5/5

Publisher's Blurb:

New York Times bestselling author Ann Leary offers a literary feast of humor and wisdom told from the perspective of a recovering people pleaser.

Having arrived at a certain age (her prime), Ann Leary casts a wry backward glance at a life spent trying—and often failing—to be nice. With wit and surprising candor, Leary recounts the bedlam of home bat invasions, an obsession with online personality tests, and the mortification of taking ballroom dance lessons with her actor husband. She describes hilarious red-carpet fiascos and other observations from the sidelines of fame, while also touching upon her more poignant struggles with alcoholism, her love for her family, her dogs, and so much more.

Prepare to laugh, cry, cringe and revel in the comically relatable chaos of Ann Leary’s life as revealed in this delightful collection of essays.

It's been a dozen years since I listened to Ann Leary's humorous novel, The Good House. She's not an author who's on my radar, but after reading a couple of glowing reviews for I've Tried Being Nice, I decided to check it out. Leary's essays are relatable, and I enjoyed her anecdotes about numerous moves during childhood, virtual/online friendships, her frustration with neighbors' dogs running through her property, and her family's love of their own dogs (they has rescued or purchased dozens of dogs), to name just a few. 

I've Tried Being Nice is the sort of book to be read in fits & spurts. Leary's a witty writer, but her audio narration of this collection of essays did not work for me. Her halting delivery (is this her normal speaking pattern or was she pausing for emphasis?) after every third or fourth word became an annoyance the longer I listened. I love memoirs and essays, but I wish I had gone with the print edition. Too bad she didn't get Mary Beth Hurt (narrator of her novel, The Good House) to read for her.

Recommend in print.

Be Ready When the Luck Happens

 

Be Ready When the Luck Happens: A Memoir by Ina Garten

Nonfiction - Memoir

2024

Read by Ina Garten

Finished on December 8, 2024

Rating: 4.5/5 (Excellent)

Publisher's Blurb:

In her long-awaited memoir, Ina Garten—aka the Barefoot Contessa, author of thirteen bestselling cookbooks, beloved Food Network personality, Instagram sensation, and cultural icon—shares her personal story with readers hungry for a seat at her table.

Here, for the first time, Ina Garten presents an intimate, entertaining, and inspiring account of her remarkable journey. Ina’s gift is to make everything look easy, yet all her accomplishments have been the result of hard work, audacious choices, and exquisite attention to detail. In her unmistakable voice (no one tells a story like Ina), she brings her past and her process to life in a high-spirited and no-holds-barred memoir that chronicles decades of personal challenges, adventures (and misadventures) and unexpected career twists, all delivered with her signature combination of playfulness and purpose.

From a difficult childhood to meeting the love of her life, Jeffrey, and marrying him while still in college, from a boring bureaucratic job in Washington, D.C., to answering an ad for a specialty food store in the Hamptons, from the owner of one Barefoot Contessa shop to author of bestselling cookbooks and celebrated television host, Ina has blazed her own trail and, in the meantime, taught millions of people how to cook and entertain. Now, she invites them to come closer to experience her story in vivid detail and to share the important life lessons she learned along the way: do what you love because if you love it you’ll be really good at it, swing for the fences, and always Be Ready When the Luck Happens.

From the opening track of the audiobook, I was immediately hooked on Be Ready When the Luck Happens. Ina Garten narrates her memoir with ease and enthusiasm, drawing me in as though we were sitting on her porch, enjoying a cup of coffee and a homemade treat warm from her oven. Her conversational tone is as inviting as her beautiful cookbooks (of which I own several) and I enjoyed my daily walks, learning more about her early career and relationship with her husband, Jeffrey. As one would expect, Ina's circle of friends and acquaintances are also well-known celebrities and yet I never felt she was dropping names while sharing anecdotes about their interactions. Her memoir is honest and genuine, and has inspired me to dig out her cookbooks for my weekly meal planning. Maybe I'll start with a sweet treat since it is the holiday season!

Highly recommend!

Left on Tenth: A Second Chance at Life

 

Left on Tenth: A Second Chance at Life by Delia Ephron

Nonfiction - Memoir

2022

Read by Delia Ephron

Finished on November 25, 2024

Rating: 5/5 (Excellent)

Publisher's Blurb:

The bestselling, beloved writer of romantic comedies like You've Got Mail tells her own late-in-life love story, complete with a tragic second act and joyous resolution.

Delia Ephron had struggled through several years of heartbreak. She’d lost her sister, Nora, and then her husband, Jerry, both to cancer. Several months after Jerry’s death, she decided to make one small change in her life—she shut down his landline, which crashed her internet. She ended up in Verizon hell.

She channeled her grief the best way she knew: by writing a New York Times op-ed. The piece caught the attention of Peter, a Bay Area psychiatrist, who emailed her to commiserate. Recently widowed himself, he reminded her that they had shared a few dates fifty-four years before, set up by Nora. Delia did not remember him, but after several weeks of exchanging emails and sixties folk songs, he flew east to see her. They were crazy, utterly, in love.

But this was not a rom-com: four months later she was diagnosed with AML, a fierce leukemia.

In Left on Tenth, Delia Ephron enchants as she seesaws us between tears and laughter, navigating the suicidal lows of enduring cutting-edge treatment and the giddy highs of a second chance at love. With Peter and her close girlfriends by her side, with startling clarity, warmth, and honesty about facing death, Ephron invites us to join her team of warriors and become believers ourselves.

Bravo! I have not read any of Delia Ephron's books, but I loved her films, You've Got Mail and Michael. I received an advance audio copy of Left on Tenth a couple of years ago and have finally made the time to give it a listen. Usually, I don't care for an author reading their own books, but Ephron's narration is outstanding. She drew me in to her life, and inner circle of friends and family, making me feel welcome, which in turn made me care about her struggle and recovery from leukemia. Delia's sister, Nora, died from complications of acute myeloid leukemia, the same type of cancer that Delia was fighting. Delia goes into great detail of her grueling treatment, but not once is it repetitive or boring. She shares sweet stories about her lovely new husband, Peter, and sprinkles humor throughout her memoir. I never felt that she was keeping her readers at arm's length, but rather created an intimate room for us to visit. I loved her conversational delivery, her authenticity, and her complete lack of pretension; if there was any name-dropping, it was never a distraction. 

On Friendship:

All these different friendships. Mine with Eugene is both business and personal. These bonds matter. They are little homes. Places of safety. I am taking stock now. Friendship. God, I love my friends.

On Grief:

 The silence in the apartment is loud.

On Love:

And one single thing about all this: We were both seventy-two and age meant nothing. We were getting as loopy, as obsessed with each other as anyone falling under the spell of romance.

On Dogs:

Dogs dig deep into your heart. They’re in the room, on the floor, in your lap, on the bed, pestering you for treats, chewing your sock, burrowing under sheets, making you laugh, following you about, eating the cheese you left on the table, tearing in wild happy circles after baths. They trust. They are innocence. They are unjudgmental observers of your every unguarded moment.

As much as I loved this audiobook, I would like to own a print edition for a second reading. Highly recommend!

I received a complimentary copy from Libro.fm. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

The Brave In-Between

 

Update: Amy Low passed away peacefully, surrounded by family, on Wednesday, November 27, 2024.

The Brave In-Between: Notes from the Last Room by Amy Low

Nonfiction - Memoir

2024

Finished on November 13, 2024

Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

Lessons and advice on navigating uncertainty while battling stage four cancer after divorce in midlife.

Amy Low resides in a room that is her last. Her medical team is clear-eyed with her: there is no cure for Stage IV metastatic colon cancer, and the odds of long-term survival are scant. Miraculously, she’s lived four years with her diagnosis, and that life between life has changed her.

Through the swirl of prolonged trauma and unbearable grief, a vantage point emerged—a window that showed her the way to relish life and be kinder to herself and others while living through the inevitable loss and heartbreak that crosses everyone’s paths. Instead of viewing joy and sorrow as opposites, she saw how both exist in harmony, full of mystery and surprise. Instead of seeing days as succeeding or failing, and physical selves as healthy or unwell, she’s learned to carry both achievements and afflictions in stride. And instead of bitterness and betrayal, forgiveness—toward her body, toward others, toward herself—became her wisest light.

Mapping her experiences to the words that St. Paul wrote in his own last room, The Brave In-Between is a sacred invitation to explore that space between triumph and tragedy. We all have a heart to marvel at miracles, a lightness to spot the absurdity, and an imagination to pause and extend empathy for others—even when tragedy strikes. Sometimes we just need a guide.

"Lessons and advice on navigating uncertainty while battling stage four cancer after divorce in midlife." Gee. Sounds like an entertaining book, doesn't it? I'm not sure why I'm drawn to stories about people battling diseases, but as I glance at my "memoir" shelf on Goodreads, there are a few. (Coincidentally, I was listening to another book, while reading this one, in which the author is dealing with the loss of her husband and leukemia.)

As with my previous read, You Could Make This a Beautiful Place, Amy Low's memoir resonates on many levels: divorce and co-parenting with an ex-spouse, Covid lockdown and Zoom, the upsetting election of 2016, etc. It's not simply a cancer story.

On hope:

Growing up in San Diego and rooting for the Padres, my brother and sister and I knew a little something about hope. We'd earned PhDs in hope. Most years, the Padres were out of contention by Mother's Day, but still we scrambled to get to games, pinning all of our dreams on Tony Gwynn* and remembering that miracles had a way of showing up despite it all. With a stirring in our hearts, we'd sit in the cheap seats, so high I thought we were closer to touching the moon than the field. What might happen?

Cancer is everywhere. I have friends and relatives currently battling this awful disease. I also know survivors. My younger brother was diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 40. He is now 60 and cancer-free. So, to jump on my soap box--get your screenings, especially colonoscopies and mammograms. Cancer treatments have advanced, along with new technologies such as immunotherapy and target drugs. Early detection is critical!

Part medical narrative, part spirituality and philosophy, The Brave In-Between is both heartbreaking and uplifting. Recommend.

You can follow Amy Low on Instagram and Substack (Postcards from the Mountain).

*Sadly, Tony Gwynn died from complications of cancer of the salivary gland at the age of 54. 

You Could Make This Place Beautiful

You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith

Nonfiction - Memoir

2023

Finished on November 10, 2024

Rating: 5/5 (Outstanding)

It's easy to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends. ~Joan Didion

Publisher's Blurb:

In her memoir You Could Make This Place Beautiful, poet Maggie Smith explores the disintegration of her marriage and her renewed commitment to herself in lyrical vignettes that shine, hard and clear as jewels. The book begins with one woman’s personal, particular heartbreak, but its circles widen into a reckoning with contemporary womanhood, traditional gender roles, and the power dynamics that persist even in many progressive homes. With the spirit of self-inquiry and empathy she’s known for, Smith interweaves snapshots of a life with meditations on secrets, anger, forgiveness, and narrative itself. The power of these pieces is cumulative: page after page, they build into a larger interrogation of family, work, and patriarchy.

You Could Make This Place Beautiful, like the work of Deborah Levy, Rachel Cusk, and Gina Frangello, is an unflinching look at what it means to live and write our own lives. It is a story about a mother’s fierce and constant love for her children, and a woman’s love and regard for herself. Above all, this memoir is an argument for possibility. With a poet’s attention to language and an innovative approach to the genre, Smith reveals how, in the aftermath of loss, we can discover our power and make something new. Something beautiful.

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself. ~Emily Dickinson

I loved this book. However, it's brutally honest, and as Smith reveals the demise of her marriage, those who have faced similar scenarios may find it a difficult read. And yet, this new-to-me poet writes beautiful passages (and poems) centered on marriage, loss, motherhood, friendship and life without falling into a stereotypical navel-gazing rant. Some pages hold a single sentence or quote, others a brief paragraph, and a few need two to three pages to convey Smith's thoughts. It's this sort of layout that begs for "just one more page." It could have been twice as long, and it still wouldn't have been enough for this reader. 

I especially love her lyrical cadence in this passage:

There are so many windows, the house is lit naturally all day long, and you can follow the sunlight as it moves from the back of the house at sunrise to the front at sunset. There are so many windows, I couldn't bear to hang blinds or full curtain panels. With only cafe curtains covering the lower halves of the windows, my head can be seen floating from room to room at night from the street. There are so many windows, living in this house is like living in a glass display case, especially after dark. There are few places to hide.

She sounds like someone with whom I'd enjoy being friends:

I wonder what I would put in my own dating profile. Poet, writer, single mother of two, Gen Xer, lifelong Ohioan, city mouse, vegetarian. Loves books, live music, travel, dogs not cats, black coffee and black tattoos, dark beer and dark chocolate. Self-employed. Author of several books. Liberal, pro-choice, agnostic, monogamous. Aquarius. Gregarious introvert. Funny as hell. Occasionally melancholic. Good cook. Bed sleeper. Woman who, let's be real, probably won't trust you. Woman who will try.

About memoir:

"A memoir is about 'the art of memory,' and part of the art is in the curation. This isn't the story of a woman who fell in love again and therefore was healed and lived happily ever after. This is a story of a woman coming home to herself."

About poetry:

Poems and songs aren't the same, but they both rely on voice and form, rhythm and sound play, metaphor and image, repetition and surprise.

There were aspects of this book that resonated deeply with me, taking me back to a sad time in my life. But like Smith, I carry that young self inside me with the realization that I have grown from those difficult experiences.

How I picture it: We are all nesting dolls, carrying the earlier iterations of ourselves inside. We carry the past inside us. We take ourselves— all of our selves —wherever we go.

Inside forty-something me is the woman I was in my thirties, the woman I was in my twenties, the teenager I was, the child I was…

I still carry these versions of myself. It’s a kind of reincarnation without death: all these different lives we get to live in this one body, as ourselves.

I look forward to reading more by Maggie Smith. I've added Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change to my TBR list. I also subscribe to her Substack newsletters and follow her on Instagram. 

To read Maggie Smith is to embrace the achingly precious beauty of the present moment. ~TIME