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Flesh & Blood: Reflections on Infertility, Family, and Creating a Bountiful Life: A Memoir
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35/99
Critics
42/99
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Scholars
55/99
Rating
15/99
Volume
62/99
Rating
21/99
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About This Book
Honest, warm, and witty, this memoir reads like a chat with a dear friend sharing her insight and taking us along as she heals. Complete with family stories over cocktails and a praying mantis named Claude. "I drive and say to myself, if I am dying, if this is how I die, then this is how I die." When N. West Moss finds herself bleeding uncontrollably in the middle of a writing class, she manages to drive herself to the nearest hospital. Doctors are baffled, but eventually a diagnosis—uterine hemangioma—is rendered and a hysterectomy is scheduled. In prose both lyrical and unsparing, Moss takes us along through illness, relapse, and recovery. And as her thoughts turn to her previous struggles with infertility, she reflects on kin and kinship and on what it means to leave a legacy. Moss's wise, droll voice and limitless curiosity lift this narrative beyond any narrow focus. Among her interests: yellow fever, good cocktails, the history of New Orleans, and, always, the natural world, including the praying mantis in her sunroom whom she names Claude. And we learn about the inspiring women in Moss's family—her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother—as she sorts out her feelings that this line will end with her. But Moss discovers that there are ways besides having children to make a mark, and that grief is not a stopping place but a companion that travels along with us through everything, even happiness. A remarkably honest memoir about heartache and healing, Flesh & Blood opens up a conversation with the millions of women who live with infertility and loss.
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Reviews
"A healing balm, this inviting memoir lights a path through grief and illness."
"This memoir is full of sensitive thoughts on childlessness and infertility."
"In poetic language that's by turns blunt and tender, Moss chronicles how she and her husband weathered their sorrow and surfaced from it, dignity still intact, their love 'made up of the things we couldn't give to one another, but also full of how hard we tried.' This is as an enriching addition to the canon of literature around infertility."
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