Nicole Chung's second memoir deals with how her blue color, middle class background failed both her parents during the pandemic and herself after their deaths. With her sharp wit she paints her anger, sorry, and grief over how the US healthcare system failed first her father, and then her mother, in this intense breakdown of health, grief, and rage. **read with tissues
I've had this on my TBR pile for close to a year, and then I saw an interview with Nick Cave regarding the death of his son, and how grief changes people on an atomic level. Reading the conversations between Nick and Sean challenges my thoughts on religion, the creative process, and the veil between us and another world. I fundamentally disagree with Cave on several different subjects, but I also found myself embracing his vision on humanity and all its complexities.
Hua Hsu spent 20 years writing this book as an homage to a friend, Ken, who was randomly murdered in a carjacking one night after a college party. The first half details their friends' lives in college at Berkeley in the 90s, and the sense of infinitute you feel when you're young. The second half is a completely arresting tribute to Ken and their friendship as Hsu struggles to process the grief of losing Ken, and the guilt of surviving without him. I can't put into words how good this is -- just read it for yourself and let Hsu tell you how much he loved Ken.
Pairing breathtaking photography of the Seattle area with poignant prose, local author/photographer Becky Gibler takes readers on a deeply personal journey through grief after losing her partner of 19 years. It is deeply moving and I would highly suggest it to anyone who is mourning someone they love. Becky has accomplished something incredible here. While the book features an LGBTQ+ relationship (which is not often depicted in this genre) she proves that, truly, love is love. This book is for anyone who has loved or lost and I thank her for writing it.
A man dealing with the sudden death of his wife then has to deal with the evil that follows him even when he tries running away. A little omniscient technology horror, a little haunted house horror, a little Mexican folklore horror. And Moreno's writing, Moreno's writing, Moreno's writing. Intimately written in the second person POV as if we were Thiago's wife. Funny, poetic, sharp and round. (Also a good soft eerie horror for the newbies.)
Dying is, to most, an uncomfortable topic. Even more taboo is assisted dying. Hannig approaches this topic in a sensitive and accessible way, shedding light on a conversation that we as a society should have.
This beautifully crafted, inter-generational story follows two childhood friends during their final year of high school in a small Mojave desert town. I was instantly drawn into the lives of Salahudin and Noor as they navigate grief, the unpredictability of their parental figures, racism, isolating secrets and fears. Told in alternating perspectives, you cannot help but rage against all the obstacles they face. Sabaa Tahir tells their story so eloquently, you will not be able to put it down and it will stay with you long after you’ve read the final page.
A stunning exploration of loss and grief. 100% on my top books of 2021!
