![]() There is life and love and profound beauty of prose. Why would I want anybody to read a book that made me cry? That would probably make them cry as well? There is not only death in this book. A beautiful, new, dead baby in diapers and knit cap. When I read the tender way in which McCracken describes seeing the baby for the first and only time. This book does not answer all these questions. How do you console the disconsolate? What words are right? What brings comfort? What words are forbidden? Is it okay to mention the tragedy? Or will that rub salt into the wound and bring forth painful memories? Is it okay to say 'I don't know what to say'? Or is that being a coward? How much time before you move on? Is there any such thing as moving on? How long do you acknowledge the calamity then? Difficult for the bereaved, but also to the outsider. McCracken goes on to deliver a second baby. ![]() You know what happens in the book - McCracken's nine-month old baby dies shortly before birth. There is sadness, but also, there is joy and hope. It did not make me weep the way I did when I watched a youtube video in memory of a 2 month old who was now dead. But it does not, let's use a phrase McCracken uses in her book, it does not 'take you by the throat', it does not leave you shaking with racking sobs. ![]() I knew that when I added the book to my 'Planning to Read' list. Of course, it is about grief and grieving. ![]()
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