Notes On Grief

From the globally acclaimed, best-selling novelist and author of We Should All Be Feminists, a timely and deeply personal account of the loss of her father: “With raw eloquence, Notes on Grief … captures the bewildering messiness of loss in a society that requires serenity, when you’d rather just scream. Grief is impolite ... Adichie’s words put welcome, authentic voice to this most universal of emotions, which is also one of the most universally avoided” (The Washington Post). Notes on Grief is an exquisite work of meditation, remembrance, and hope, written in the wake of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's beloved father’s death in the summer of 2020. As the COVID-19 pandemic raged around the world, and kept Adichie and her family members separated from one another, her father succumbed unexpectedly to complications of kidney failure. Expanding on her original New Yorker piece, Adichie shares how this loss shook her to her core. She writes about being one of the millions of people grieving this year; about the familial and cultural dimensions of grief and also about the loneliness and anger that are unavoidable in it. With signature precision of language, and glittering, devastating detail on the page—and never without touches of rich, honest humor—Adichie weaves together her own experience of her father’s death with threads of his life story, from his remarkable survival during the Biafran war, through a long career as a statistics professor, into the days of the pandemic in which he’d stay connected with his children and grandchildren over video chat from the family home in Abba, Nigeria. In the compact format of We Should All Be Feminists and Dear Ijeawele, Adichie delivers a gem of a book—a book that fundamentally connects us to one another as it probes one of the most universal human experiences. Notes on Grief is a book for this moment—a work readers will treasure and share now more than ever—and yet will prove durable and timeless, an indispensable addition to Adichie's canon.

From the globally acclaimed, best-selling novelist and author of We Should All Be Feminists, a timely and deeply personal account of the loss of her father: “With raw eloquence, Notes on Grief … captures the bewildering messiness of loss in a society that requires serenity, when you’d rather just scream. Grief is impolite ... Adichie’s words put welcome, authentic voice to this most universal of emotions, which is also one of the most universally avoided” (The Washington Post). Notes on Grief is an exquisite work of meditation, remembrance, and hope, written in the wake of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's beloved father’s death in the summer of 2020. As the COVID-19 pandemic raged around the world, and kept Adichie and her family members separated from one another, her father succumbed unexpectedly to complications of kidney failure. Expanding on her original New Yorker piece, Adichie shares how this loss shook her to her core. She writes about being one of the millions of people grieving this year; about the familial and cultural dimensions of grief and also about the loneliness and anger that are unavoidable in it. With signature precision of language, and glittering, devastating detail on the page—and never without touches of rich, honest humor—Adichie weaves together her own experience of her father’s death with threads of his life story, from his remarkable survival during the Biafran war, through a long career as a statistics professor, into the days of the pandemic in which he’d stay connected with his children and grandchildren over video chat from the family home in Abba, Nigeria. In the compact format of We Should All Be Feminists and Dear Ijeawele, Adichie delivers a gem of a book—a book that fundamentally connects us to one another as it probes one of the most universal human experiences. Notes on Grief is a book for this moment—a work readers will treasure and share now more than ever—and yet will prove durable and timeless, an indispensable addition to Adichie's canon.

On the premise that grief is a foreign country for most of us, the author takes the reader on a journey through the grief process as he attempts to move beyond the unexpected death of his wife just as they entered retirement. His personal thoughts on grief are poignant and powerful and the book is like a portable support group that helps readers realize they are not alone in their grieving. Readers will feel the authors pain and will identify with his humanity. The Epilogue to the book offers fifteen lessons that will help readers on their journey through grief. The book is also a story of a remarkable love relationship. It has laugh-out-loud humor in the midst of pain. Readers will feel they are in the presence of a friend who really knows what grief is like. * * * * * * * I simply cannot imagine a better portrayal of love between two people, written through pain, in homage to a loved one. If anyone wants to know about love and the feelings associated with its loss, these pages serve as an example. The book is a roadmap of how to honor the love, revisit it in grief and begin sorting out the feelings of loss . . . This is very heartfelt, powerful material. Mike Foley, Writers Review.

I Write Because I Can a collection of notes on grief, loss & life After my mother's death, feeling untethered and adrift as I struggled to find my bearings amid deep grief, I accidentally discovered a way to help navigate my sorrow through writing small posts on Instagram. Inspired by a line from the poet Anele Rubin, I began each piece with, "I write because . . ." and ended with the line, "I write because I can." I created this tiny book from those pieces, and in turn found a new way to walk in this world. In this collection, I hope that if you too are experiencing grief, you may recognize yourself in my words and feel just a little less alone.

About Grief is a refreshingly down-to-earth book about an issue that blindsides many people. Written in a warm and conversational way that is, at times, deeply moving, at times, surprisingly amusing, and always practical, it covers a wide range of issues facing people in grief. Originally developed as a wildly popular class, Marasco and Shuff have done the footwork for readers who wish to know more about this complex subject. Using a variety of sources, including books, films, music and many hours spent walking and talking with people in grief, the authors distill their candid insights into a series of short, single-topic-essays that can be easily digested in one sitting—a format they found grieving people preferred. This is not a book written by clinicians, so there's no cold jargon. It's not a memoir of one individual's grief, so it has something for everyone. And it's not a soft-peddling inspirational book with dew-sprinkled leaves on the cover. It's a wise, plainspoken, comforting book about an intimidating topic. As one reader recently said of About Grief: Reading this book is like having a smart, entertaining friend around—at a time when you really need one.

Fragmented and hybrid in style, On Comics and Grief examines a year in comic book publishing and the author’s grief surrounding his mother’s death. This book connects grief, memory, nostalgia, personal history, theory, and multiple lines of comics studies inquiry in relation to the comic books of 1976. Structured around a year of comic books with a cover date of 1976, the year the author turned ten, the book is divided into an Introduction plus twelve sections, each a month of the publishing year. Two comic books are highlighted each month and examined through the interwoven lenses of creative nonfiction and comics studies. Through these twenty-four comics, the book addresses the major comic book publishers and virtually all genres of comics published in 1976. By pushing the ways in which the personal is used in comics studies, combining different modes of writing, and embracing a fragmentary style, the book explores what is possible in academic writing in general and comics studies in particular. On Comics and Grief both acts as a way for the author to process his grief and uses grief as a way to think about the comics themselves through the emotions and personal connections that underlie the work we do as scholars.