After the research psychologist Barbara Blatchley’s husband and partner of thirty-six years passed away, her life changed utterly. Seeking to understand the pain and confusion she felt, Blatchley began exploring the psychology and neuroscience of bereavement. Why does grief last so long and hurt so much? How do we come to terms with loss?
In Sorrow’s Long Road, Blatchley interweaves an engaging and reader-friendly look at the research on grief with her powerful personal narrative. Beginning with the day of her husband’s death, she traces the questions that loss raised and the answers that science provides. Blatchley examines the psychology of love and attachment, detailing how we bond with others and what happens when those bonds are broken. She considers the storm of emotions that the bereaved experience, as well as both the physical and psychological effects of grieving. Blatchley maps out how we adapt to the changes that loss brings and find a new identity afterward. In addition to her own experiences, she shares the stories of other people who have suffered a loss and struggled to recover, illustrating how grief changes over time.
Accessibly written and deeply empathetic, Sorrow’s Long Road humanizes the science, showing how psychology and neuroscience can help us make sense of the darkest times in our lives.
Barbara Blatchley is a neuroscientist, which is to say one of those people who make their living trying to figure things out, which in turn is to say that when her beloved husband died she was not only turned end over end by the pain of the loss but also, once she was halfway functional, curious about what grief and grieving are. How do different people enact their grief? We often say that grief is the price we pay for the joy of love and connection, but what possible function can it serve for people to be knocked flat by grief, to be "crying and wandering and yearning" -- how can that not be evolutionarily maladaptive? And what's the biochemistry underlying this phenomenon?
Blatchley examines these questions in the context of her own losses -- her husband's, but also her mother's and her best friend's, all within the space of a couple of years. Along the way she provides a taxonomy, some of which might be familiar (anticipatory grief, complicated grief) and descriptions of relevant research, both social/psychological and biological. She distinguishes between grief (the feeling) and grieving (the process by which we cope with loss), though, having finished the book, I'm not sure how useful the distinction is, other than in abstract terms: the feeling and the process have always seemed inextricable to me.
A point that Blatchley returns to is that grief is cyclical, or perhaps "waveform" would be a better word: it has its peaks and troughs, and while it generally diminishes with the passage of time it never vanishes completely and may revive full force, unexpectedly, years after the loss in question. Her account follows a similar pattern -- that is, it's occasionally recursive and I'm not sure I can identify any unifying conclusions (no Grand Unified Theory of Grief). That might suit an actively grieving person rather well: in remembering the aftermath of my own deepest losses, I don't think I'd have been able to follow a long theoretical throughline.
I was surprised, in fact, that Blatchley doesn't devote much specific attention to the amnesia that can come with grief. (The year after my father’s death is mostly a vacancy in my memory, and as far as I can tell from friends, this experience is common.) Nor does she take up the kinds of grief that haven’t to do with the loss of an individual person: grief for an animal companion; grief for a lost home; climate grief; the shocking mass grief of a pandemic; the grief of watching one’s country collapse into autocracy. An author chooses her scope — fair enough! But for the full five stars I’d have wanted more.
Thanks to Columbia University Press and NetGalley for the ARC.
This memoir is a brave and honest account of grief after the death of a loved one. It's raw and genuine , and that openness really helps to show what grief can feel like, both emotionally and physically. The structure works well, following her experience in a roughly chronological way. She also includes conversations with others who are grieving, which adds depth and helps the book feel broader than just her own story. I received a free advanced review copy from NetGalley, and this is my honest review.
Book Review: Sorrow’s Long Road: The Science of Grief by Barbara Blatchley
Rating: 4.9/5
Reactions & Emotional Impact Blatchley’s Sorrow’s Long Road is a rare gem—a book that marries rigorous scientific inquiry with raw, poetic vulnerability. As someone who has both studied and experienced grief, I was deeply moved by Blatchley’s ability to translate the nebulous agony of loss into tangible neuroscience without stripping it of its humanity. Her opening account of her husband’s death shattered me; her subsequent exploration of attachment theory and neurochemical upheaval reassembled that brokenness with newfound understanding. The chapters on bond rupture and grief’s physical toll elicited visceral reactions—my pulse raced as she described cortisol spikes, and I wept at her depiction of phantom presence hallucinations. Yet, amid the sorrow, Blatchley’s quiet resilience and dry wit (e.g., musing on grief’s terrible roommate persistence) offered unexpected solace.
Strengths -Science Meets Storytelling: Blatchley masterfully balances fMRI studies with memoir-like intimacy. Her explanation of the amygdala’s role in grief is as compelling as her description of folding her husband’s shirts for the last time. -Inclusive Scope: Beyond her own narrative, she amplifies diverse grief experiences (sudden loss, anticipatory mourning), validating varied emotional trajectories. -Practical Wisdom: Though not a self-help book, insights on identity reconstruction post-loss provide implicit guidance—e.g., how neural plasticity mirrors our capacity to adapt. Accessible Scholarship: Complex concepts like prolonged grief disorder are distilled with clarity, making this vital for both academics and general readers.
Constructive Criticism -Cultural Context: While Blatchley nods to cross-cultural mourning practices, a deeper dive into non-Western grief frameworks (e.g., collective vs. individual processing) could enrich the analysis. -Temporal Density: The middle chapters briefly overwhelm with back-to-back studies; a slower pace or visual aids (charts, diagrams) might ease absorption. -Hope’s Cadence: The final section, while profound, leaves readers craving more concrete examples of post-traumatic growth (though this may reflect grief’s inherent ambiguity).
Final Thoughts This book is a lighthouse in grief’s storm—a work that dignifies pain with science while honoring its ineffability. Blatchley doesn’t just explain grief; she companions you through it, proving that even the darkest roads are walkable when mapped with knowledge and compassion.
Gratitude: Thank you to Columbia University Press and Edelweiss for the gifted copy—this book arrived when I needed it most, a testament to its timeless relevance.
Why 4.9? Docked slightly for wanting more intercultural perspectives, but Sorrow’s Long Road is a near-perfect synthesis of heart and mind. Essential for anyone who has loved, lost, or sought meaning in the wreckage.
Sorrow's Long Road by Barbara Blatchley is an informative yet very personal book that tackles the complex subject of grief and grieving in a scientific way but with a very human and relatable voice. Written by Blatchley in the aftermath of losing her husband of thirty six years the book explores and explains the differences between grief the emotion and the actual process of grieving and the behaviours and cultural mores that involves. As an academic who is familiar with the world of research and statistics the author turned to the familiar to help her in her time of loss, diving deeply into the psychology of grief but also looking at the physical and physiological manifestation of the stress caused by bereavement. The book is rich in scientific detail which is presented in a very digestible format that makes it easy for the reader to process the information without being overwhelmed and the almost conversational writing style helps with this. She goes back to basics and examines topics like attachment and grief and the various types and manifestations of grief, from the familiar "stages of grief " that so many of us have heard of, and probably been through, unfortunately, to more modern models. I found the discussions of the stress caused by grief and the physiological manifestations of that stress and pain to be particularly interesting and the comparisons of physical and social pain was quite surprising and very enlightening. I was fascinated by the importance of ritual in the grieving process, as someone who comes from a culture with strong grieving rituals learning about the psychological and social impact of these helped me to understand them better. Cutting through the scientific discussion is a more personal style, with the author describing her own path through the grieving process and then ending the book with several very affecting personal accounts of loss gathered from among her friends, some of which were nothing short of heart breaking. I think this is a book that would help anyone going through the grieving process , especially at a point in time where the initial raw emotion has subsided, but I also think that anyone who picks this book up will find something of value and will gain both knowledge and empathy from the pages, This must have been an incredibly difficult book to write but I would like to thank the author, because from a personal perspective, as someone who has experienced traumatic loss, I found it incredibly relatable and helpful to understand what I went through at that time. I read and reviewed an ARC courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher, all opinions are my own.
Sorrow’s Long Road is one of those books that surprised me with just how much it gave me to think about. Barbara Blatchley takes a scientific approach to grief, but not in a dry, heavy way. She explains the difference between “grief”, the deep, internal emotions we feel and “grieving,” which is how we outwardly process and cope with loss. She also talks about how culture shapes the way we deal with death, which I found interesting. It’s not something I’d considered before, but it makes sense that the rituals and customs around us inevitably influence how we navigate loss.
Blatchley also dives into the different emotional responses we might experience, such as sadness, anger, guilt, and yearning, and explains them in a way that’s relatable and easy to digest. I appreciated that the book never got bogged down in complicated jargon. Even the scientific explanations were clear, and the footnotes and diagrams sprinkled throughout made it even easier to understand. They gave me a clearer picture of what she was talking about, which I found helpful.
One of my favourite parts was towards the end, when she shares real-life accounts from people she’s spoken to about their grief. She asks them a series of questions, and their honest answers bring such a human touch to all the research and science she’s been talking about. It’s one thing to read about grief in theory, but hearing it in someone’s own words hit me differently.
Overall, this is an excellent book for anyone going through grief, as well as for those who want to support better someone who is grieving. While it’s written from a perspective that’s geared more toward American culture, the ideas and insights can still apply to anyone, anywhere.
I gave this one four stars because it strikes such a good balance, thoughtful and grounded in research, but still so approachable and heartfelt. Big thanks to NetGalley and Columbia University Press for the e-ARC in exchange for my honest review.
In 2018 when she was 62, neuroscientist and writer Barbara Blatchley lost her partner and husband of 36 years. Christopher was 13 years older than the author and had been ill for some time, but Blatchley stresses that his death was nevertheless a complete shock to her. The first blow to his health had been cancer; heart disease came later. The couple had adjusted to living with Christopher’s conditions, ignoring them as much as they could and just getting on with things. Barbara continued working as a professor. In the months before his death, however, her husband’s issues demanded increasing attention. There was a crowded medical appointment schedule, more pills, diagnostic procedures, and discussions about treatment options.
Then, one evening while she was grading student papers, Blatchley heard a thump from upstairs. It seemed to her that Christopher had simply dropped a book, so she continued with her work. A half hour later, she found him dead—obviously from a heart attack. The paramedics were, of course, called and they came promptly: Christopher was indeed gone.
Almost immediately, the author was thrown into a state of confusion and disorientation, which persisted for months. She returned to her work as a college professor, which allowed her to distract herself from the grief that consumed her at home. There was so much to do, but her mind would not stay on track. She turned to her journal. Usually the record of her thoughts and feelings, it became an essential tool for maintaining any degree of mental organization. Practical lists predominated in the early days. Over time, she wrote in stream-of-consciousness style about what she experienced as she grieved. She found that writing calmed her agitation as she tried to cope with “the central pillar of everything” in her life, Christopher, being gone. Blatchley judiciously uses brief and often moving excerpts from her journal to begin each chapter of her book. These make up the personal component of Sorrow’s Long Road.
The author identifies herself as a person who, in scientific parlance, tends toward “problem-focused coping.” After the immediate shock and the intense early stages of grief had abated, it was perhaps natural for her as a neuroscientist to look into the research around grief in order to understand what had been—and still was—going on with her—and with humans in general when they experience significant loss. She was searching for answers to a few questions in particular, among them: Was her experience normal? How long would these difficult emotions persist? Would she ever be forward-looking again? Why the anger? How might the deep pain of grief be beneficial in an evolutionary sense? Why do we have painful emotions at all? The information she gathered is the scientific, second component of each of the chapters in her book.
Throughout Sorrow’s Long Road, Blatchley is careful to define and make distinctions between key terms, including: grief, grieving, and bereavement; love, attachment, and bonding; and sadness and depression. This is a very ambitious work and the author covers a huge range of topics, some of them clearly related to the experience of losing a loved one; others, less so. I thought she was very good on the kinds of grief: anticipatory, typical, and complicated; the reasons why we grieve; models of grief (Kübler-Ross’s stage theory, Freudian “grief work” in which the bereaved person goes through the process of detaching from the loved one who has died in order to move on with life; and the “dual process model of grief” which sees grief as a dynamic process in which the person in mourning oscillates between yearning for and ruminating on the beloved and “restoration”—that is, adjusting to a new reality with new interests and responsibilities). Her discussion of British psychiatrist John Bowlby’s work on attachment and how it connects to grieving was very fine.
I was less satisfied with other sections of the book. The chapter on the physiological effects of grief, for example, focuses almost exclusively on stress. There is no doubt that loss is extremely stressful. Blatchley writes that the brain interprets the death of the beloved as an emergency, a threat to continued survival. The nervous system goes into fight or flight mode. Those strategies don’t work when someone has died, however, and the alarm phase proceeds to the resistance and exhaustion stages. I wish there’d been some—even a brief—discussion of immune-system impacts.
Some of the material Blatchley presents on brain imaging and grief was interesting and accessible, but the language used in sections addressing specific brain regions (e.g., the insula and anterior cingulate cortex) was occasionally technical or vague to the point of being meaningless to the lay reader.
I have mixed feelings about this book. I did learn quite a bit, but I felt some of the scientific information the author presented wasn’t entirely relevant to the topic, or perhaps wasn’t adequately elaborated on so that its connection to grief was clear. For example, it may be true that many people experience both physical and emotional pain during bereavement, and that both types of pain are processed, moderated, and controlled by one complicated circuit in the brain, but where are the physical pain signals coming from when there’s no obvious tissue damage with grief? And of what relevance is a diagram of the somatosensory cortex when it comes to the emotional pain of loss? Do the brain’s “natural painkillers”—the endogenous opiates help relieve grief?
As I stated earlier, Blatchley was certainly ambitious. I know of no other book on grief that attempts to do what she has tried to achieve here. I applaud her efforts; I just wish they’d sometimes been a bit more focused.
This book strikes a thoughtful balance between the author’s personal experiences and the scientific research on grief. Blatchley manages to make complex science accessible and easy to follow, while weaving in deeply human stories that ground the research in lived experience.
What resonated most with me were the grief stories at the end-different voices, different losses, each offering a perspective that felt both raw and relatable. It’s a book that respects both the head and the heart, and I found myself reflecting on my own experiences of loss while reading.
A solid 4 stars from me. Thoughtful, approachable, and quietly powerful.
‘Sorrow’s Long Road’ by Dr. Barbara Blatchley is a personal and scientific account of grief.
I’ve read many books on grief, and this is by far one of the most interesting and intriguing accounts, particularly with the way it tackles grief from a scientific standpoint, all the while keeping the humane and empathetic elements alive via integrating other people’s stories.
I highly-recommend reading this book.
Many thanks to NetGalley, the publisher, and the author for the e-ARC of this invaluable reference.
I recieved an ARC of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
DNF @ 40%
The amount of inconsistencies in the grief theory portion of this are unbearable to me. I get how editing a memoir can be difficult, but someone academically-oriented should've put their foot down for this one. There were formatting errors too that made it difficult to read on kindle.
This book is both grounding and emotional. The mix of science, psychology, and the author’s personal story made it easier to understand the overwhelming complexity of grief.
I’d recommend this to anyone who wants to better understand their own grief or support someone else's. Insightful, tender, and deeply human.
Thank you to NetGalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for my review.