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Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better
After years of unexplained health problems, Polly Atkin's perception of her body was rendered fluid and disjointed. When she was finally diagnosed with two chronic conditions in her thirties, she began to piece together what had been happening to her - all the misdiagnoses, the fractures, the dislocations, the bone-crushing exhaustion, the not being believed. Some of Us Just Fall combines memoir, pathography and nature writing to trace a fascinating journey through illness, a journey which led Polly to her current home in the Lake District, where outdoor swimming is purported to cure all, and where every day she turns to the natural world to help tame her illness. Polly delves into the history of her two genetic conditions, uncovering how these illnesses were managed (or not) in times gone by and exploring how best to plan for her own future. From medical misogyny and gaslighting, to the illusion of 'the nature cure', this essential, beautiful and deeply personal book examines how we deal with bodies that diverge from the norm, and why this urgently needs to change. This is not a book about getting better. This is a book about living better with illness.
312 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2023
57 people are currently reading
1427 people want to read
About the author
Polly Atkin
14 books38 followersPolly Atkin is an English poet and academic.
She lives in Cumbria and teaches English Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Strathclyde. She has published widely in magazines and literary journals, and her pamphlet, Bone Song, was shortlisted for the 2009 Michael Marks Pamphlet Award.
Her second pamphlet, Shadow Dispatches, won the 2012 Mslexia Pamphlet Prize and is published by Seren.
She lives in Cumbria and teaches English Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Strathclyde. She has published widely in magazines and literary journals, and her pamphlet, Bone Song, was shortlisted for the 2009 Michael Marks Pamphlet Award.
Her second pamphlet, Shadow Dispatches, won the 2012 Mslexia Pamphlet Prize and is published by Seren.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 61 reviews
January 21, 2024
Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better is an excellent memoir of chronic illness and critique of the 'nature cure' concept. Atkin recounts in nonlinear fashion how she grew up ill and after many years received a diagnosis that allowed her to understand why. She has a genetic disorder, Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, which she describes as follows:
Atkins reflects on how chronic illness shaped her life and her family, including her experiences in academia. Like everyone else I know who has worked there, she found extreme unwillingness to accommodate disability. Her writing is often beautiful and profound; the descriptions of nature in the vicinity of her home in the Lake District are lyrical and vivid. Certain paragraphs prompted uncomfortable self-reflection, for example:
Atkins contextualises her experience of chronic illness cleverly and expresses the importance of nature while demonstrating it isn't a panacea. She ends by stating, 'This story has no recovery'. She lives with her illness and seeks to maintain the best quality of life she can, day by day. Her writing rejects simplistic dichotomies and generalisations about health, now and in history. I found Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better thought-provoking and powerful.
Everything in my body is stretchier than it should be. I am poorly strung together. My bones do not stay where they should be because the ligaments and tendons holding them in place are floppy. My stomach overextends every time I eat and my bowel is too floppy to squeeze food along it properly. Sometimes my throat flops closed. When I stand, the blood sinks down my body, pooling in my overly stretchy blood vessels so they can't get it back up again. It gathers in my hands and lower limbs until a grey film appears over my eyes, and I feel increasingly sick and unsteady. If I don't sit down, or put my feet up, my speech starts to slur, the light dims right down to dried-blood brown, and eventually I faint. The time in between, when I can't speak and cry at the light, can last for aeons. There are names for all these things, and reasons for them. Things that might help them. They are not just how I am. They are not just something I have to live with. That is what diagnosis gave me.
Atkins reflects on how chronic illness shaped her life and her family, including her experiences in academia. Like everyone else I know who has worked there, she found extreme unwillingness to accommodate disability. Her writing is often beautiful and profound; the descriptions of nature in the vicinity of her home in the Lake District are lyrical and vivid. Certain paragraphs prompted uncomfortable self-reflection, for example:
Pretending to be healthy when you're not is especially exhausting. It takes up energy you could be using keeping yourself as well as you can. But nothing is more exhausting than seeking help and not getting it, year after year after year.
Atkins contextualises her experience of chronic illness cleverly and expresses the importance of nature while demonstrating it isn't a panacea. She ends by stating, 'This story has no recovery'. She lives with her illness and seeks to maintain the best quality of life she can, day by day. Her writing rejects simplistic dichotomies and generalisations about health, now and in history. I found Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better thought-provoking and powerful.
October 4, 2023
5/5 stars, added to all-time favourite list
About once every year, I come across a book like this that I struggle to review for a very particular reason. On the one hand I want to shout about the amazing thing I just read, as I wish the experience of deeply relating and resonating with someone else's words that I had on other people too. On the other hand, I hesitate to write a public review on something that felt so personal to me, and related to some of my most vulnerable experiences in life.
Polly Atkin insightfully and eloquently describes her experience with "the chronic life": being born with two unrelated but unfortunately interacting chronic conditions (something I relate to). She links these experiences to nature, to writing and to her journey of piecing together her own story and place in the world.
Every disability is as different as the bodies and lives it affects. Still at times, reading Polly's words was like reading my own diaries, sometimes literally down to the phrasing. It was confronting, it was liberating, and somehow afferming of something I already knew, but sometimes forget: we are not alone with these experiences.
I will, again, need a little time to gather my thoughts, perhaps reread and tab up this book as I go along. Afterwards, I might write a more structured review, but I won't make promises.
Readingexperiences like this are different to discuss, but they tend to be my favourites of all time all-together in the long-haul. See also: Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies, When Breath Becomes Air, Where the Forest Meets the Stars, This Appearing House amongst others.
About once every year, I come across a book like this that I struggle to review for a very particular reason. On the one hand I want to shout about the amazing thing I just read, as I wish the experience of deeply relating and resonating with someone else's words that I had on other people too. On the other hand, I hesitate to write a public review on something that felt so personal to me, and related to some of my most vulnerable experiences in life.
Polly Atkin insightfully and eloquently describes her experience with "the chronic life": being born with two unrelated but unfortunately interacting chronic conditions (something I relate to). She links these experiences to nature, to writing and to her journey of piecing together her own story and place in the world.
Every disability is as different as the bodies and lives it affects. Still at times, reading Polly's words was like reading my own diaries, sometimes literally down to the phrasing. It was confronting, it was liberating, and somehow afferming of something I already knew, but sometimes forget: we are not alone with these experiences.
I will, again, need a little time to gather my thoughts, perhaps reread and tab up this book as I go along. Afterwards, I might write a more structured review, but I won't make promises.
Readingexperiences like this are different to discuss, but they tend to be my favourites of all time all-together in the long-haul. See also: Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies, When Breath Becomes Air, Where the Forest Meets the Stars, This Appearing House amongst others.
February 21, 2024
I want to start by stating that it is impossible for me to write an unbiased review of this memoir when it’s the first time I’ve found a testimony of the experience of hEDS in the pages of a book. For obvious reasons this became an emotional reading experience for me, which is why it’s taken me two months to put my thoughts into words, and is why this review is probably quite different to my usual.
When I picked up ‘Some of Us Just Fall’, I didn’t know who Polly Atkin was, or what her health condition was, I was just intrigued by the way that the tagline resonated with me.
The narrative is told through different thematic, but mostly chronological sections of Atkin’s health journey, highlighting the ups and downs, but all presenting a sense of progression that imbues the (disabled) reader with a sort of quiet hope whilst simultaneously undermining harmful ‘inspirational, mind over matter’ narratives.
The way that Atkin voices the experience of being diagnosed in adulthood and looking back on your life through a new lens particularly resonated with me. I also enjoyed the way that Atkin interwove her experience with her love of the natural world. To live with chronic illness it to learn its patterns and observe its cycles. Whilst I don’t share Atkin’s vehement adoration for nature, nor does it impact our symptoms in entirely the same way, I have come to see the its connections to my condition, to read what the week will have in store for my body by looking outdoors, or even checking a weather report.
I would personally describe this as essential reading. Too many seem to view disability and/or chronic illness as an additional part of someone, as if it doesn’t underpin the basis of many people’s very being, and Atkin does a fantastic job of exhibiting the ways in which it can be all consuming without being reductive.
When I picked up ‘Some of Us Just Fall’, I didn’t know who Polly Atkin was, or what her health condition was, I was just intrigued by the way that the tagline resonated with me.
The narrative is told through different thematic, but mostly chronological sections of Atkin’s health journey, highlighting the ups and downs, but all presenting a sense of progression that imbues the (disabled) reader with a sort of quiet hope whilst simultaneously undermining harmful ‘inspirational, mind over matter’ narratives.
The way that Atkin voices the experience of being diagnosed in adulthood and looking back on your life through a new lens particularly resonated with me. I also enjoyed the way that Atkin interwove her experience with her love of the natural world. To live with chronic illness it to learn its patterns and observe its cycles. Whilst I don’t share Atkin’s vehement adoration for nature, nor does it impact our symptoms in entirely the same way, I have come to see the its connections to my condition, to read what the week will have in store for my body by looking outdoors, or even checking a weather report.
I would personally describe this as essential reading. Too many seem to view disability and/or chronic illness as an additional part of someone, as if it doesn’t underpin the basis of many people’s very being, and Atkin does a fantastic job of exhibiting the ways in which it can be all consuming without being reductive.
February 6, 2024
A wonderful book that encapsulated life with chronic illness so well. Aitken writes of her experience of growing up and living with undiagnosed health issues and then making sense of things after getting a name and an explanation for symptoms which have impacted her life hugely. She reflects on how even with this things can remain uncertain and unclear and all that learning to live in a body that doesn’t navigate the world as easily as healthy ones entails.
This was quite an emotional read for me as I share multiple of the authors diagnosis, which I don’t know before reading. I found so many parallels within these pages to my own life, and Aitken managed to put onto the page with great clarity her experience that there was something comforting in this. Definitely a book I will read again.
This was quite an emotional read for me as I share multiple of the authors diagnosis, which I don’t know before reading. I found so many parallels within these pages to my own life, and Aitken managed to put onto the page with great clarity her experience that there was something comforting in this. Definitely a book I will read again.
July 3, 2024
Thought-provoking.
July 21, 2024
Wanted to love. Usually enjoy books about chronic illness, acceptance and how the great outdoors can act as a healer. This was just a little too erudite for me.
Erudition has its place and can slow the reading so that you can experience the immersion, however this particular episodic narrative was just not for me
Erudition has its place and can slow the reading so that you can experience the immersion, however this particular episodic narrative was just not for me
July 14, 2023
This is a beautifully written memoir about living with chronic illness. It contains realism and hope.
A moving testimony of being ignored, disbelieved, and maltreated by medical professionals and the healthcare system as a whole.
How Covid-19 brought a parallel through the lockdowns about what living with chronic illness is like to non-sufferers. Yet also a new vulnerability to the chronically ill and disabled.
It speaks of the value of nature, slowness and appreciation of the beauty of the natural world whilst refuting that nature could actually be a cure.
Atkin gives searingly on point descriptions of learning what her new life is, pacing even the smallest of activities and letting go of her hopes and dreams for what she thought life was going to be.
I did feel that this book came from the perspective of privilege and although this was mentioned briefly it did not recognise that we are not all able to live the idyllic Lake District life that Atkin does - and yet still face chronic illness and disability in cities, urban environments, council flats, etc.
But overall this memoir was stunningly written, movingly real and an important voice in the chronic/disabled conversation.
This honest review is given with thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for this book.
A moving testimony of being ignored, disbelieved, and maltreated by medical professionals and the healthcare system as a whole.
How Covid-19 brought a parallel through the lockdowns about what living with chronic illness is like to non-sufferers. Yet also a new vulnerability to the chronically ill and disabled.
It speaks of the value of nature, slowness and appreciation of the beauty of the natural world whilst refuting that nature could actually be a cure.
Atkin gives searingly on point descriptions of learning what her new life is, pacing even the smallest of activities and letting go of her hopes and dreams for what she thought life was going to be.
I did feel that this book came from the perspective of privilege and although this was mentioned briefly it did not recognise that we are not all able to live the idyllic Lake District life that Atkin does - and yet still face chronic illness and disability in cities, urban environments, council flats, etc.
But overall this memoir was stunningly written, movingly real and an important voice in the chronic/disabled conversation.
This honest review is given with thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for this book.
July 15, 2023
A fantastic and poetic approach to the description of the lived experience of the unwell. I am perhaps biased in my review; the symptoms described in the opening chapters felt strangely familiar, and it was only upon Atkin revealing her initial diagnosis that I realised I had experienced the same day to day phenomena (our illnesses being within the same family).
Regarding the subtitle of this book ("On Nature and Not Getting Better") I admit I was apprehensive, completely expecting to see the usual trope that nature will provide resolutions to illness. However, Atkin skilfully dismantles the concept of the Nature Cure, bringing to bear the oddly comforting reality that many chronic people will of course not get better.
This is truly a masterwork of the modern experience of chronicity, from struggling with diagnosis to understanding how best to maintain and manage independently whilst knowing when it is time to ask for help from others. This should be necessary reading for everyone as we are all just a misstep or mutation away from illness or disability. You may as well prepare yourself if you aren't there yet.
Regarding the subtitle of this book ("On Nature and Not Getting Better") I admit I was apprehensive, completely expecting to see the usual trope that nature will provide resolutions to illness. However, Atkin skilfully dismantles the concept of the Nature Cure, bringing to bear the oddly comforting reality that many chronic people will of course not get better.
This is truly a masterwork of the modern experience of chronicity, from struggling with diagnosis to understanding how best to maintain and manage independently whilst knowing when it is time to ask for help from others. This should be necessary reading for everyone as we are all just a misstep or mutation away from illness or disability. You may as well prepare yourself if you aren't there yet.
July 26, 2023
mmersive, defiant, meditative, majestic, enlightening. I’m not sure there are enough superlatives to do this book justice. Read it simply to be submerged in the natural wonders of the Lakes, to take a gloriously intimate tour of its now domesticated wilderness. Or read it like me, to also find kinship, hope and empathy, if you, or a loved one have a bodily ecosystem burdened by chronic illness, that continually strays from equilibrium, that has been subjected to medical gaslighting and near endless diagnostic circles of hope/relief/euphoria followed by the disappointment of another dead end. Too many of us will identify with what Polly has been through, and will continue to go through, will see this as their story, even though the details differs. But I doubt any of us could tell it as eloquently as this.
(With thanks to the publisher for an advanced copy in exchange for my honest review - though I loved it so much I purchased a physical copy too!)
(With thanks to the publisher for an advanced copy in exchange for my honest review - though I loved it so much I purchased a physical copy too!)
February 13, 2024
Enlightening. Vulnerable. A Gift .
Some of Us Just Fall was validating, engaging, and vulnerable—a memoir of Atkin's journey to diagnosis and ongoing experience of being chronically ill, continually navigating the healthcare system and searching for relief.
I share a number of the same diagnoses with Atkins and was a bit disappointed she didn't go into more detail regarding their consequences and comorbidities, which are numerous and extensive, but perhaps that in itself is the reason why. Feeling slightly aimless and meandering in parts, perhaps this echoes her journey, or perhaps the book might also have benefitted from another round of edits, either way it was a bit tiring.
Atkins meditations and ruminations on pacing I found to be enlightening and on point. As a chronically ill/disabled individual I identified with her shared experiences with pervasive medical gaslighting and indeed many steps in her journey.
Despite being a memoir and gaining a close view into Atkin's life there remains a sense of depersonalization, a lack of intimacy, an alienation from the self which seems to come along with chronic illness, an objectification due to the medicalization of the body. Though it is a personal narrative it is not balanced by spending much time giving the reader any insight into the deeper dynamics of illness, disability, pain management, doctor preferences,etc. The book skims the surface of her personal life just enough to tell the story but not enough that you feel like you are getting to know the author, or have sufficient context, depth or insight— much of the complexity is lost—and with it the depth of her humanity. It's a felt loss—an absence on the page.
Nevertheless, Some of Us Just Fall is a welcome addition to a chorus that needs more voices.
A huge Thank You to NetGalley and Publishers for access to the digital ARC. All opinions are my own.
Some of Us Just Fall was validating, engaging, and vulnerable—a memoir of Atkin's journey to diagnosis and ongoing experience of being chronically ill, continually navigating the healthcare system and searching for relief.
I share a number of the same diagnoses with Atkins and was a bit disappointed she didn't go into more detail regarding their consequences and comorbidities, which are numerous and extensive, but perhaps that in itself is the reason why. Feeling slightly aimless and meandering in parts, perhaps this echoes her journey, or perhaps the book might also have benefitted from another round of edits, either way it was a bit tiring.
Atkins meditations and ruminations on pacing I found to be enlightening and on point. As a chronically ill/disabled individual I identified with her shared experiences with pervasive medical gaslighting and indeed many steps in her journey.
Despite being a memoir and gaining a close view into Atkin's life there remains a sense of depersonalization, a lack of intimacy, an alienation from the self which seems to come along with chronic illness, an objectification due to the medicalization of the body. Though it is a personal narrative it is not balanced by spending much time giving the reader any insight into the deeper dynamics of illness, disability, pain management, doctor preferences,etc. The book skims the surface of her personal life just enough to tell the story but not enough that you feel like you are getting to know the author, or have sufficient context, depth or insight— much of the complexity is lost—and with it the depth of her humanity. It's a felt loss—an absence on the page.
Nevertheless, Some of Us Just Fall is a welcome addition to a chorus that needs more voices.
A huge Thank You to NetGalley and Publishers for access to the digital ARC. All opinions are my own.
January 2, 2026
This book kept surprising me!
Sometimes it can be hard reading about chronic illness when you’re chronically ill yourself - especially when there are many similarities to your health - but Some of Us Just Fall manages to anchor the story of illness to other themes in a very compelling way.
The stories and themes around heritage and memory really stuck with me as very special.
I, too, look at my family tree, wondering where this illness came from.
“You squint at something in the far distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of your origin. Or else to recognise yourself in one of the points in between. Are these the people you came from? [...] Did any of them feel like you? If they did, how did they live?”
One section that really stuck with me is a part where she talks about dreams. The similarities to my dream situation were almost eerie!
The stories from this memoir will stay with me for a long time - which I can now confirm as I’m wrapping up this review a year later.
Thank you NetGalley for the digital review copy!
Sometimes it can be hard reading about chronic illness when you’re chronically ill yourself - especially when there are many similarities to your health - but Some of Us Just Fall manages to anchor the story of illness to other themes in a very compelling way.
The stories and themes around heritage and memory really stuck with me as very special.
I, too, look at my family tree, wondering where this illness came from.
“You squint at something in the far distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of your origin. Or else to recognise yourself in one of the points in between. Are these the people you came from? [...] Did any of them feel like you? If they did, how did they live?”
One section that really stuck with me is a part where she talks about dreams. The similarities to my dream situation were almost eerie!
The stories from this memoir will stay with me for a long time - which I can now confirm as I’m wrapping up this review a year later.
Thank you NetGalley for the digital review copy!
July 3, 2024
Every person working in the health care industry should read this especially.
This is a very hard book to rate. A personal memoir about nature and chronic illness, Polly Atkin puts into words, thoughts, and experiences I empathise with and have never been able to articulate.
As someone who struggles with chronic illness, this book felt like a reflection of parts of myself and an acknowledgement that we are not alone.
I did find parts of the nature writing meandering for my tastes, and certain quotations and references honestly went over my head. But, the beautiful way Polly Atkin tells her story should be something everyone gets a chance to read. Certain chapters, statistics, and Pollys own experiences are enraging to read. This author truly shines a light on the serious obstacles you can face when searching for a diagnosis or medical treatment.
It's very difficult to put a rating on the comfort of someone writing down your own inarticulate thoughts in a way you can finally understand. Looking at this memoir from the perspective of someone with knowledge of chronic illness or someone with none, you will find it to be an important, insightful read.
Beautiful, articulate, unique, caring, and essential.
If anyone has similar recommendations, I would greatly appreciate it.
This is a very hard book to rate. A personal memoir about nature and chronic illness, Polly Atkin puts into words, thoughts, and experiences I empathise with and have never been able to articulate.
As someone who struggles with chronic illness, this book felt like a reflection of parts of myself and an acknowledgement that we are not alone.
I did find parts of the nature writing meandering for my tastes, and certain quotations and references honestly went over my head. But, the beautiful way Polly Atkin tells her story should be something everyone gets a chance to read. Certain chapters, statistics, and Pollys own experiences are enraging to read. This author truly shines a light on the serious obstacles you can face when searching for a diagnosis or medical treatment.
It's very difficult to put a rating on the comfort of someone writing down your own inarticulate thoughts in a way you can finally understand. Looking at this memoir from the perspective of someone with knowledge of chronic illness or someone with none, you will find it to be an important, insightful read.
Beautiful, articulate, unique, caring, and essential.
If anyone has similar recommendations, I would greatly appreciate it.
November 11, 2025
This blend of memoir and nature writing can also be viewed as a manifesto of sorts - advocating for the rights and dignity of those with a chronic illness, and against the way that the medical profession deals with bodies (especially female ones) that don't conform to the expected or can't be easily diagnosed.
Across the book, Polly recounts the story of her health and her body - from her first leg fracture as a young child to her eventual diagnosis of two genetic conditions in her 30s - with many other injuries, complications and forms of pain across the interspersing years. Whilst her body suffers terribly from the accumulated damage, the book is also a witness to the emotional damage from years of being ignored, belittled or disbelieved - one that may be all too relatable for others with chronic health conditions. And, as well as piecing her own story together, Polly examines the medical history of her conditions, including within the previous generations of her own family.
In addition to the landscape of her own body, the book explores the landscape around Polly in her Lake District home - a beautiful journey through the healing effects of land, water, wildlife. In particular, she recounts experiences of wild swimming here - something that allows Polly a certain sense of peace in the water's acceptance of and freedom from her body. However, whilst she turns to nature to cope with her illness, she's not under any delusions that it's a cure in itself.
From a non-parent perspective, issues related to health can also play a part in why someone may not have had children. Whilst Polly's story in relation to (non)motherhood isn't part of the book (she doesn't mention anything around whether she hopes to have or would have liked to have children), her story forms a safe place to engage in discussions around chronic illness without this involving a focus on maternity. Instead, she reveals a complex and different, and also often overlooked or misunderstood, perspective of the female body.
Across the book, Polly recounts the story of her health and her body - from her first leg fracture as a young child to her eventual diagnosis of two genetic conditions in her 30s - with many other injuries, complications and forms of pain across the interspersing years. Whilst her body suffers terribly from the accumulated damage, the book is also a witness to the emotional damage from years of being ignored, belittled or disbelieved - one that may be all too relatable for others with chronic health conditions. And, as well as piecing her own story together, Polly examines the medical history of her conditions, including within the previous generations of her own family.
In addition to the landscape of her own body, the book explores the landscape around Polly in her Lake District home - a beautiful journey through the healing effects of land, water, wildlife. In particular, she recounts experiences of wild swimming here - something that allows Polly a certain sense of peace in the water's acceptance of and freedom from her body. However, whilst she turns to nature to cope with her illness, she's not under any delusions that it's a cure in itself.
From a non-parent perspective, issues related to health can also play a part in why someone may not have had children. Whilst Polly's story in relation to (non)motherhood isn't part of the book (she doesn't mention anything around whether she hopes to have or would have liked to have children), her story forms a safe place to engage in discussions around chronic illness without this involving a focus on maternity. Instead, she reveals a complex and different, and also often overlooked or misunderstood, perspective of the female body.
September 12, 2024
Polly writes about her experiences with two chronic conditions. One of which I live with too. When she writes about her EDS, I feel like I can relate so much and I kept thinking this is me. She articulated her experiences in a way that I sometimes struggle to. For that I am so thankful for this book and I will be keeping it on my shelf to revisit when needed.
I did find that the book did seem to go off on a tangent. It seems to be a mix of a journal of her experiences living with the conditions, the history of the Lake District and William Wordsworth, an English literature essay analysing writing where chronic pain or chronic conditions are mentioned and a book about nature. I found some of these dragged a bit as I was less interested in them.
Overall I enjoyed this book but I found some of the history and analysis slightly heavy going.
I did find that the book did seem to go off on a tangent. It seems to be a mix of a journal of her experiences living with the conditions, the history of the Lake District and William Wordsworth, an English literature essay analysing writing where chronic pain or chronic conditions are mentioned and a book about nature. I found some of these dragged a bit as I was less interested in them.
Overall I enjoyed this book but I found some of the history and analysis slightly heavy going.
February 25, 2024
"I look at the ground as I walk so I don’t fall and so I notice the ground, its beauty, all the things that live there. Tiny mushrooms, newts crossing the road, yellow cinquefoil, all the multitudes of moss. I stop to rest, and in resting I hear red squirrels chittering in the trees above me, their tails bright against the bark as they run and leap." (p. 261)
Lyrical moments like these abound in Atkin’s moving memoir of living with chronic illness, against the backdrop of the large-scale denial of a planetary illness, of biodiversity loss and climate crisis. 'What kind of nature ethic is still available to me?' Atkin asks from her own embodied experience, reflecting on the history of wellness culture, nature ‘cures,’ and the paragon of healthiness that seems to be the only available example of a nature-connected body. If I can’t go running up mountains seeking the edge of survival, how can I seek out coexistence with the natural world in a place like the Lake District—without forsaking myself, my own body included?
And yet there is another history, the legacy of those who have lived with and told the truth about chronic illness—specifically hemochromatosis and EDS, but the story’s sympathies reach well beyond these, into the sickbed of Dorothy Wordsworth in Grasmere, and the prehistoric caves of Cresswell Crags and Rathlin Island, where distant ancestors are buried. Atkin sleuths out this history, too, and walks us through these other, older landscapes, bringing them just as alive as her own lake swims among fish and herons.
For the average reader in supposedly perfect health, this is a fascinating read full of poetic beauty. Even beyond the human level, it speaks to the universal grief of a planet suffering from preventable illnesses, in hundreds of tangible ways. For the rest of us, though, there is a deeper resonance here, one that is a balm for each in her own moment of living with pain, of being overlooked and lied to through the ongoing medical drama of living with chronic illness. Atkin’s is a rare, deep-hearted sympathy, unafraid to speak its own survival for others’ sake. If you have ever been unheard or gaslit in a hospital room, if you’ve ever been sent home from the emergency room in the same pain you came in with, then this book will become an advocate for you, even to yourself, where the “am I crazy to think I’m still sick?” thoughts live. It will become a reassuring presence, and a fond companion with a surprising sense of humor.
And if not, then you should—please— read this, not just for your own entertainment, but for the person in your life you don’t yet know is chronically ill. Let a brilliant writer teach you how to be a better companion to that person. You’ll even get to enjoy a good read in the process.
Lyrical moments like these abound in Atkin’s moving memoir of living with chronic illness, against the backdrop of the large-scale denial of a planetary illness, of biodiversity loss and climate crisis. 'What kind of nature ethic is still available to me?' Atkin asks from her own embodied experience, reflecting on the history of wellness culture, nature ‘cures,’ and the paragon of healthiness that seems to be the only available example of a nature-connected body. If I can’t go running up mountains seeking the edge of survival, how can I seek out coexistence with the natural world in a place like the Lake District—without forsaking myself, my own body included?
And yet there is another history, the legacy of those who have lived with and told the truth about chronic illness—specifically hemochromatosis and EDS, but the story’s sympathies reach well beyond these, into the sickbed of Dorothy Wordsworth in Grasmere, and the prehistoric caves of Cresswell Crags and Rathlin Island, where distant ancestors are buried. Atkin sleuths out this history, too, and walks us through these other, older landscapes, bringing them just as alive as her own lake swims among fish and herons.
For the average reader in supposedly perfect health, this is a fascinating read full of poetic beauty. Even beyond the human level, it speaks to the universal grief of a planet suffering from preventable illnesses, in hundreds of tangible ways. For the rest of us, though, there is a deeper resonance here, one that is a balm for each in her own moment of living with pain, of being overlooked and lied to through the ongoing medical drama of living with chronic illness. Atkin’s is a rare, deep-hearted sympathy, unafraid to speak its own survival for others’ sake. If you have ever been unheard or gaslit in a hospital room, if you’ve ever been sent home from the emergency room in the same pain you came in with, then this book will become an advocate for you, even to yourself, where the “am I crazy to think I’m still sick?” thoughts live. It will become a reassuring presence, and a fond companion with a surprising sense of humor.
And if not, then you should—please— read this, not just for your own entertainment, but for the person in your life you don’t yet know is chronically ill. Let a brilliant writer teach you how to be a better companion to that person. You’ll even get to enjoy a good read in the process.
April 8, 2024
"This is the chronic life. This is the story of how it is to not get better."
This is a vulnerble and thoughtful account of Polly Atkin's experiences with chronic illnesses and disability - I saw my own experiences, and those of many others I know, echoed throughout this book. I felt incredibly seen reading this and it is a book I will return to. It's raw and truthful and beautifully written.
The only reason this isn't a five star read is that at times I got lost in some of the connections to nature; as well as the other poetic and academic ramblings throughout. While some were wonderfully done, others I felt went on a little too long or I couldn't quite see the links between the experience and the passage.
Thank you for sharing your story Polly.
This is a vulnerble and thoughtful account of Polly Atkin's experiences with chronic illnesses and disability - I saw my own experiences, and those of many others I know, echoed throughout this book. I felt incredibly seen reading this and it is a book I will return to. It's raw and truthful and beautifully written.
The only reason this isn't a five star read is that at times I got lost in some of the connections to nature; as well as the other poetic and academic ramblings throughout. While some were wonderfully done, others I felt went on a little too long or I couldn't quite see the links between the experience and the passage.
Thank you for sharing your story Polly.
January 7, 2025
A little tough to get through, but I feel like it was purposefully written so, & very poignant ending
May 19, 2024
I got to page 85 and stopped which I hate to do but it was so disconnected, taxing to read like an academic book, and her partner had a name that was simply an initial, which was very symbolic of how much attention anyone besides herself was given in the book. It has an amazing title and description so I had High Hopes for the book as I adore medical memoirs. I also love swimming, water, and nature. As I write this, it makes me want to persevere and try again, but I think I just have to trust my instincts and close the book.
March 26, 2025
i would really give this 3 and 1/2 stars if goodreads had that option! the prose is beautiful & this book is incredibly insightful. it was just a bit slow for me at points, which i think may have been purposeful, but it just wasn’t really my thing. great read though!
June 20, 2024
I found much of this book powerful and compelling reading. But I also felt quite strongly that it should have been two books. For me, the first book would have ended when the author finally got an accurate diagnosis of her condition. It would also have been divided into much shorter chapters, instead of lengthy chapters with un-headed sections. There's so much in here, and really I'd like to have read it all more slowly, with bigger pauses to take in what was going on. Definitely two books' worth of writing.
The main narrative, for this reader at least, is at first driven by the impetus to know what is actually wrong: why is the author having so many joint and bone injuries? What is the reason for the suffering? She writes beautifully about the experience of living inside her tricky body. Her perception is utterly convincing. I related to everything she said, even though I've never had similar issues.
But then I began to realise I did, between 16 and 32, have a condition that baffled doctors and that I felt was my fault, and possibly even imaginary. And eventually, it was correctly diagnosed and treated, although only because I had read every relevant book I could lay my hands on. In my case, I did get better, though not completely better, because (like the author here), you have to learn to accommodate certain aspects of the way your body works. And it's rarely exactly like you think it ought to work, and certainly not like in films.
The issue of not getting better is what takes over in the second half. It's more philosophical and less incident-based. In fact, some of it is deeply philosophical, and there are parts that draw in Dorothy Wordsworth and other literary characters. Some of this felt less relevant and interesting to me, though it was clearly central to the author's preoccupations. The issue that was of considerable interest was the ongoing issue of how to live well with a condition that really limits what you can do. Not only limits it, but can make existence literally and psychologically painful. It's a really important theme. I just wasn't always wholly convinced she was addressing it clearly and concisely.
I was totally with her in the first half, or the parts leading up to the diagnosis. Probably less so in the second half where she also spends quite a bit of time reflecting on her genes and thinking about ancestors who might have shared certain aspects of her condition (including Rob Roy). But still, even if there had been two volumes instead of just one one, I would without doubt have read the second one. The very end is lovely. You feel the author is someone you would like to meet, someone whose work you'd like to read more of.
You don't have to have an illness to be its target reader. I used to teach in a further education college, and I remember noticing how many of the young adults in my classes were afflicted with physical issues of one kind or another. Few of them seemed to be bursting with health, though none of them thought of themselves as ill. In fact, the ones who were really fit and energetic were noteworthy exceptions. Many of them had IBS type pain. A couple in every group would be concealing hearing issues, or be unable to see the whiteboard because they weren't wearing glasses. Often I was made aware of a diabetes sufferer, as well as epilepsy, and autism.
Often, the problems would be invisible. I remember interviewing for a class of older (but not old) students, 'adult returners' we called them. One woman was so stunning looking that I timidly suggested to her that perhaps she might dress down a little in class (I was worried that the others wouldn't like her because she looked like a fashion model). As the term went on, and various class members talked about their life experiences, it became clear that this particular woman had a long history of eating disorders. She was far from well, but she made good relationships, and others in the class helped her. But they all leaned on each other.
I don't mean to suggest that everybody lives with something, and that therefore the author of this book isn't exceptional. She is exceptional in many senses, not least in her ability to communicate life experience dynamically. I wouldn't have missed reading this for the world, even if I would, for choice, have changed its structure.
The main narrative, for this reader at least, is at first driven by the impetus to know what is actually wrong: why is the author having so many joint and bone injuries? What is the reason for the suffering? She writes beautifully about the experience of living inside her tricky body. Her perception is utterly convincing. I related to everything she said, even though I've never had similar issues.
But then I began to realise I did, between 16 and 32, have a condition that baffled doctors and that I felt was my fault, and possibly even imaginary. And eventually, it was correctly diagnosed and treated, although only because I had read every relevant book I could lay my hands on. In my case, I did get better, though not completely better, because (like the author here), you have to learn to accommodate certain aspects of the way your body works. And it's rarely exactly like you think it ought to work, and certainly not like in films.
The issue of not getting better is what takes over in the second half. It's more philosophical and less incident-based. In fact, some of it is deeply philosophical, and there are parts that draw in Dorothy Wordsworth and other literary characters. Some of this felt less relevant and interesting to me, though it was clearly central to the author's preoccupations. The issue that was of considerable interest was the ongoing issue of how to live well with a condition that really limits what you can do. Not only limits it, but can make existence literally and psychologically painful. It's a really important theme. I just wasn't always wholly convinced she was addressing it clearly and concisely.
I was totally with her in the first half, or the parts leading up to the diagnosis. Probably less so in the second half where she also spends quite a bit of time reflecting on her genes and thinking about ancestors who might have shared certain aspects of her condition (including Rob Roy). But still, even if there had been two volumes instead of just one one, I would without doubt have read the second one. The very end is lovely. You feel the author is someone you would like to meet, someone whose work you'd like to read more of.
You don't have to have an illness to be its target reader. I used to teach in a further education college, and I remember noticing how many of the young adults in my classes were afflicted with physical issues of one kind or another. Few of them seemed to be bursting with health, though none of them thought of themselves as ill. In fact, the ones who were really fit and energetic were noteworthy exceptions. Many of them had IBS type pain. A couple in every group would be concealing hearing issues, or be unable to see the whiteboard because they weren't wearing glasses. Often I was made aware of a diabetes sufferer, as well as epilepsy, and autism.
Often, the problems would be invisible. I remember interviewing for a class of older (but not old) students, 'adult returners' we called them. One woman was so stunning looking that I timidly suggested to her that perhaps she might dress down a little in class (I was worried that the others wouldn't like her because she looked like a fashion model). As the term went on, and various class members talked about their life experiences, it became clear that this particular woman had a long history of eating disorders. She was far from well, but she made good relationships, and others in the class helped her. But they all leaned on each other.
I don't mean to suggest that everybody lives with something, and that therefore the author of this book isn't exceptional. She is exceptional in many senses, not least in her ability to communicate life experience dynamically. I wouldn't have missed reading this for the world, even if I would, for choice, have changed its structure.
February 25, 2024
Polly Atkin, a patient who has suffered greatly with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and hemochromatosis, documents her long struggle to be taken seriously by the medical profession and obtain diagnoses. Some of Us Just Fall offers insight into what it is like to be a person living with a chronic condition which sets her apart from those with normally functioning bodies. Atkin packs a lot of other “stuff” into her book as well: commentaries and reflections on the writing of others who live with disabilities, considerable nature writing (focused mostly on Grasmere in the Lake District), academic musings on Thomas de Quincey and the Wordsworths, and many excerpts from her journals (some of them recounting nighttime dreams).
I would have much preferred a shorter, more linear narrative. Part of Atkin’s point is that chronological time doesn’t really exist for the chronically ill patient. Life does not progress, move forward, for her in the way that it does for more able-bodied humans. Instead, time is layered, a palimpsest. To a certain degree, the patient is stuck. The same things happen over and over again, though there are variations in the bones broken, the joints dislocated, and the organs that require imaging. To emphasize this deviation from time as most experience it, Atkin’s telling appears to be intentionally fragmented and disorienting. It’s 1997 in one paragraph and almost twenty years later in the next.
Since my own preference is for a clean, economical writing style, I did not get on well with this long and wordy book. I also grew impatient with the nature writing, the stories about class trips in childhood, and the retelling of dreams. I was most engaged when Atkin wrote plainly about her condition. I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to grapple with her metaphorical musings about liminal realms—the caves under Nottingham or the kingdom of faery. The author was evidently drawing parallels between these places and the illness experience. Unfortunately, I cannot say I grasped her points.
I was greatly saddened to read of Atkin’s suffering, and while there were aspects of her book that I appreciated, it often felt too cerebral and highbrow for me.
Many thanks to the publisher and Net Galley for providing me with a digital copy for review purposes.
I would have much preferred a shorter, more linear narrative. Part of Atkin’s point is that chronological time doesn’t really exist for the chronically ill patient. Life does not progress, move forward, for her in the way that it does for more able-bodied humans. Instead, time is layered, a palimpsest. To a certain degree, the patient is stuck. The same things happen over and over again, though there are variations in the bones broken, the joints dislocated, and the organs that require imaging. To emphasize this deviation from time as most experience it, Atkin’s telling appears to be intentionally fragmented and disorienting. It’s 1997 in one paragraph and almost twenty years later in the next.
Since my own preference is for a clean, economical writing style, I did not get on well with this long and wordy book. I also grew impatient with the nature writing, the stories about class trips in childhood, and the retelling of dreams. I was most engaged when Atkin wrote plainly about her condition. I didn’t have the mental wherewithal to grapple with her metaphorical musings about liminal realms—the caves under Nottingham or the kingdom of faery. The author was evidently drawing parallels between these places and the illness experience. Unfortunately, I cannot say I grasped her points.
I was greatly saddened to read of Atkin’s suffering, and while there were aspects of her book that I appreciated, it often felt too cerebral and highbrow for me.
Many thanks to the publisher and Net Galley for providing me with a digital copy for review purposes.
March 9, 2024
Book 10 of Year 2024: Some of Us just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better by Polly Atkin
The author skillfully navigates the complexities of illness, acknowledging that healing isn’t guaranteed for everyone. Through poignant storytelling, they validate the experiences of those who remain unhealed—individuals whose lives are forever shaped by their health struggles. Whether you’ve been through the ups and downs of illness yourself or have witnessed it in someone close, this book speaks to the reality of the unhealed path. It’s like a comforting nod, saying, “Hey, you’re not alone.” So let’s embrace our unique journeys, even if they don’t always lead to healing, and find solace in knowing we’re not walking this road alone.
We often come across books detailing the journey of someone with an illness—starting from the struggle to get better and ultimately finding healing. However, this book takes a unique path. It shines a light on a different perspective—one that acknowledges that not everyone reaches that coveted state of healing. So, if you’re looking for something refreshingly authentic, this book is for you.
Let me warn you before reading this: the author’s way of narrating her journey is brutally honest and detailed. While reading, you may imagine the real pain that she went through and might feel it in some ways. It also highlights the struggle of those with illnesses that are undiagnosed or lack sufficient research, and how much people with such illnesses suffer.
The lesson I have learned from this book is to always be kind and sensitive to other people’s feelings, especially those we don’t really know and, of course, even to the people we already know. At the end of the day, we don’t wear the same shoes and walk the same path, so we have to be careful with our actions and words.
This book was a powerful, inspiring, and eye-opening read for me.
The author skillfully navigates the complexities of illness, acknowledging that healing isn’t guaranteed for everyone. Through poignant storytelling, they validate the experiences of those who remain unhealed—individuals whose lives are forever shaped by their health struggles. Whether you’ve been through the ups and downs of illness yourself or have witnessed it in someone close, this book speaks to the reality of the unhealed path. It’s like a comforting nod, saying, “Hey, you’re not alone.” So let’s embrace our unique journeys, even if they don’t always lead to healing, and find solace in knowing we’re not walking this road alone.
We often come across books detailing the journey of someone with an illness—starting from the struggle to get better and ultimately finding healing. However, this book takes a unique path. It shines a light on a different perspective—one that acknowledges that not everyone reaches that coveted state of healing. So, if you’re looking for something refreshingly authentic, this book is for you.
Let me warn you before reading this: the author’s way of narrating her journey is brutally honest and detailed. While reading, you may imagine the real pain that she went through and might feel it in some ways. It also highlights the struggle of those with illnesses that are undiagnosed or lack sufficient research, and how much people with such illnesses suffer.
The lesson I have learned from this book is to always be kind and sensitive to other people’s feelings, especially those we don’t really know and, of course, even to the people we already know. At the end of the day, we don’t wear the same shoes and walk the same path, so we have to be careful with our actions and words.
This book was a powerful, inspiring, and eye-opening read for me.
May 25, 2024
"Had I been grieving all my life for the shroud of the normative body that kept being lain over me? If so, what kept me grieving was the lie, not the body: the expectation, the insistence that my body was not my body, that my experience in my body was not true."
"The diagnosis was clear: the problem was that I was a woman, and women are too sensitive."
"I had the same body that another consultant could clearly recognize as having hEDS ten years later, but I was younger, bendier, had suffered less by than to get there. It's almost as though the problem was that I hadn't been damaged enough."
"If enough people tell you you are creating your symptoms, you have to consider it. Maybe you even start to believe it, against the silent screams of your body."
"This book is for everyone who has been told they are not broken, when they are holding up their body full of cracks as evidence. For everyone who has been told there is nothing wrong this them, when they know there is something very wrong with them, everyone who has been told they are too sensitive. That they need to do more exercise, or less. That they just need to get outside, reconnect with nature. That they need to take up yoga or prayer. That they only appear to be ill because they are too fat or too thin. That they are making themselves ill, consciously, or unconsciously, with their wrong behavior. That they need to eat more or less or differently. That they have the wrong attitude. That they just don't want to be well."
"The diagnosis was clear: the problem was that I was a woman, and women are too sensitive."
"I had the same body that another consultant could clearly recognize as having hEDS ten years later, but I was younger, bendier, had suffered less by than to get there. It's almost as though the problem was that I hadn't been damaged enough."
"If enough people tell you you are creating your symptoms, you have to consider it. Maybe you even start to believe it, against the silent screams of your body."
"This book is for everyone who has been told they are not broken, when they are holding up their body full of cracks as evidence. For everyone who has been told there is nothing wrong this them, when they know there is something very wrong with them, everyone who has been told they are too sensitive. That they need to do more exercise, or less. That they just need to get outside, reconnect with nature. That they need to take up yoga or prayer. That they only appear to be ill because they are too fat or too thin. That they are making themselves ill, consciously, or unconsciously, with their wrong behavior. That they need to eat more or less or differently. That they have the wrong attitude. That they just don't want to be well."
November 2, 2024
I loved the nuance Atkin brought to the conversation of being disabled. The frustration of being at the mercy of a medical system that assures you nothing is wrong - or 'really' wrong - while you experience debilitating symptoms was painted so clear. Atkin's analysis of the role storytelling plays in proper treatment and diagnosis was very insightful and real. How to present a lifetime of pain and being misunderstood to a specialist in a matter of moments, in a way that reflects suffering but not too much- (one wouldn't want to be dramatic).
Additionally, her use of repetitive language was very effective in painting the continuous nature, and annoyance, of health maintenance when chronically ill. It did however repeat a bit too much in the last 50 or so pages.
Perhaps attack is the wrong word, but the clear rebuttal against 'the nature cure' was really interesting when read side by side with her clear adoration of the nature surrounding her home. I had so much respect for Atkin being honest and sharing that, for a time, she believed in the nature cure. How you can yearn so much to be well that you cling to anything that works, even temporarily.
That the medical system puts into the minds of those with undiagnosed/categorized symptoms that they simply do not want to be well; they are choosing to be sick. It's no wonder, given that hostile environment, that folks hope the cure is nature. Or perhaps just a reprieve from the exhausting cycle of appointments, tests, medications, and the hours of administrative work that lies behind receiving adequate medical care.
Would love to read more from this author.
Additionally, her use of repetitive language was very effective in painting the continuous nature, and annoyance, of health maintenance when chronically ill. It did however repeat a bit too much in the last 50 or so pages.
Perhaps attack is the wrong word, but the clear rebuttal against 'the nature cure' was really interesting when read side by side with her clear adoration of the nature surrounding her home. I had so much respect for Atkin being honest and sharing that, for a time, she believed in the nature cure. How you can yearn so much to be well that you cling to anything that works, even temporarily.
That the medical system puts into the minds of those with undiagnosed/categorized symptoms that they simply do not want to be well; they are choosing to be sick. It's no wonder, given that hostile environment, that folks hope the cure is nature. Or perhaps just a reprieve from the exhausting cycle of appointments, tests, medications, and the hours of administrative work that lies behind receiving adequate medical care.
Would love to read more from this author.
April 29, 2024
Some of Us Just Fall, by Polly Atkin
Rating: 5/5
Published: Now
‘I am a little outside my body, tethered only lightly to it. When I move bits of it, it is like moving a puppet. I stare at my typing fingers aware they are mine only because I can feel the faint pressure of their pads on the keys, and a tingling running up them into my hand, but it is unconvincing.’
After years of unexplained health problems, Polly Atkin's perception of her body was rendered fluid and disjointed. She describes the strange experience of being constantly unwell and feeling disconnected from her body. Her experiences of illness are juxtaposed with beautiful prose about the natural world, and how she finds calm and healing within it. She draws upon a wealth of knowledge about her own condition, whilst describing her horrific encounters with medical practitioners who saw her symptoms and decided to ignore them. This book is a striking act of activism, and one of the best pieces on chronic illness that I have ever read. There were times when I had to put it down, because it struck so close to my own reality. Chronic illness is a constant battle, and Atkin captures its difficulties with grace and eloquence.
Rating: 5/5
Published: Now
‘I am a little outside my body, tethered only lightly to it. When I move bits of it, it is like moving a puppet. I stare at my typing fingers aware they are mine only because I can feel the faint pressure of their pads on the keys, and a tingling running up them into my hand, but it is unconvincing.’
After years of unexplained health problems, Polly Atkin's perception of her body was rendered fluid and disjointed. She describes the strange experience of being constantly unwell and feeling disconnected from her body. Her experiences of illness are juxtaposed with beautiful prose about the natural world, and how she finds calm and healing within it. She draws upon a wealth of knowledge about her own condition, whilst describing her horrific encounters with medical practitioners who saw her symptoms and decided to ignore them. This book is a striking act of activism, and one of the best pieces on chronic illness that I have ever read. There were times when I had to put it down, because it struck so close to my own reality. Chronic illness is a constant battle, and Atkin captures its difficulties with grace and eloquence.
March 7, 2024
I , too, have EDS-hypermobility. I was diagnosed at age 60 (at this writing I'm 73 yo). I found myself reflecting, as I listened to this book, as to 'what a difference a world view makes'. I was listening because my current functional status w/ EDS is that I have pain with any prolonged grasp - like in holding a book. But as for world view, I'm bio medically trained. While seeking affirmation for my experiences w/ EDS, the author's literary rambles left me struggling to associate back to the topic construct. The dream sequences made me cringe (remember, I'm listening, computerized text to audio) and I couldn't skim and move on. My personal quibbles aside, there is much good content about living w/ EDS. I just ordered a text version off of E-bay because I do want to highlight some of the passages she wrote - for my own reflection and as needs be in conversation w/ others. There is a lot out there about living w/ cancer or dementia or even spinal cord injury. This book describes an interesting exploration of living with a chronic disease that is not commonly recognized in medical circles.
March 23, 2024
I already knew about Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome before I came across this novel.
In Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better, Polly Atkin has created an immediately immersive account of what she goes through with this.
I am a person with disabilities. I have Cerebral Palsy, Hydrocephalus and visual impairments, and I understand the aspects of fatigue and how being cold affects Polly. I was able to identify with her immediately, although we don't have the same medical condition. This was thanks to her approachable writing style which made me want to learn more.
Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better has amazing visuals and I really felt at one with nature at the beginning of the book and every time it was mentioned. The Lake District setting is breathtaking.
This is a memoir everyone should have a copy of. I am all for disability awareness and it's one I won't be forgetting about anytime soon.
5 stars
In Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better, Polly Atkin has created an immediately immersive account of what she goes through with this.
I am a person with disabilities. I have Cerebral Palsy, Hydrocephalus and visual impairments, and I understand the aspects of fatigue and how being cold affects Polly. I was able to identify with her immediately, although we don't have the same medical condition. This was thanks to her approachable writing style which made me want to learn more.
Some of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better has amazing visuals and I really felt at one with nature at the beginning of the book and every time it was mentioned. The Lake District setting is breathtaking.
This is a memoir everyone should have a copy of. I am all for disability awareness and it's one I won't be forgetting about anytime soon.
5 stars
Read
January 6, 2026I'm not giving this book a star number because parts of it (the portions about the author's chronic illness) were excellent and others (the history of a lake, or a cave, or a park) I started skipping. Instead, I'm copying in a few quotations that I want to remember.
It's not good news to be told you're perfectly healthy when you feel like you're dying.
Pretending to be healthy when you're not is especially exhausting. It takes up energy you could be using keeping yourself as well as you can.
On a bad day, waiting for it to be over. On a busy day, waiting for it to be over. On a better day, wondering when it will be over.
The same day, over and over again, with no progress, no variation, but with no sense of moving forward. A body-horror Groundhog Day.
Doing your exercises, trying to get outdoors, taking medications. Trying to get outdoors. Doing your exercises. Trying to avoid getting worse.
(that last sentence encapsulates my life)
It's not good news to be told you're perfectly healthy when you feel like you're dying.
Pretending to be healthy when you're not is especially exhausting. It takes up energy you could be using keeping yourself as well as you can.
On a bad day, waiting for it to be over. On a busy day, waiting for it to be over. On a better day, wondering when it will be over.
The same day, over and over again, with no progress, no variation, but with no sense of moving forward. A body-horror Groundhog Day.
Doing your exercises, trying to get outdoors, taking medications. Trying to get outdoors. Doing your exercises. Trying to avoid getting worse.
(that last sentence encapsulates my life)
February 7, 2024
This book approaches so many important topics with beautiful prose and relentless honesty - living in constant pain, the struggles of misdiagnosis, medical misogyny, and the idea that you can be healed from your chronic illness by just "going outside" and "not thinking about it so much." The story is not told chronologically, but it is categorized thoughtfully into sections that tell the story from different perspectives. I was inspired by the core message of this book, that "a cure" is not the magical solution, but rather that people who are ill can still live better, happier, more comfortable lives. What kept this from being a 5-star read for me is the poetic/academic ramblings on William Wordsworth, Sir Walter Scott, etc - I sometimes got lost in those passages and did not always see the connection. However, overall a brave and helpful memoir that I am glad to have read.
April 19, 2024
"Some of Us Just Fall" is Polly Atkin's memoir of her life with illness. But it is also very much more than that too. Polly story makes sense of her personal history, her misdiagnoses, and her treatment (both medical and complementary). She also writes on the misogyny and disbelief that she finds when not fitting in an easily-defined medical box.
I found this memoir more lyrical and very beautifully written in comparison to similar books. Polly's writings on nature really make this a treat. Discussions of pacing and peace were particularly poignant, as well as the honest writing on continual navigation, moment to moment, on what pacing could look like.
All in all, an excellent book that I widely recommend. Thank you to NetGalley and Unnamed Press for the ARC. All opinions are my own, and I have already bought another edition.
I found this memoir more lyrical and very beautifully written in comparison to similar books. Polly's writings on nature really make this a treat. Discussions of pacing and peace were particularly poignant, as well as the honest writing on continual navigation, moment to moment, on what pacing could look like.
All in all, an excellent book that I widely recommend. Thank you to NetGalley and Unnamed Press for the ARC. All opinions are my own, and I have already bought another edition.
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