Winner of the 2024 J. Anthony Lukas Work-in-Progress “A singular work of literary reportage, a firsthand, intimate account drawing profound connections between the body and the planet”
Science writer Lorraine Boissoneault has been in pain for most of her adult life. Unable to control or make sense of her chronic illness diagnoses, she began describing the ebb and flow of her symptoms as “body weather.” At first an imaginative approach to coping with flare-ups, the phrase has become a waypoint in Lorraine’s explorations of the intimate relationship between our fragile bodies and the fragile world around us.
In visceral and poetic prose, Body Weather traverses science, history, memoir, medicine, and time to explore the interconnected relationship between the human body and Earth’s meteorology—two chaotic systems that inform every cell of our beings. Boissoneault relates her dysregulated thyroid to fluctuations in global temperature; her retroverted uterus and frequent UTIs to catastrophic floods; her inflamed joints to wildfires beyond control.
Reimagining the cloudy stages of grief, Body Weather challenges us to reexamine universal questions lodged deep how do we find comfort and meaning in a fevered world?
Lorraine Boissoneault is a journalist and writer whose work has appeared in national and regional publications including Salon, MentalFloss, Forbes Middle East, The Weather Channel, and many other outlets. She covers travel, foreign policy, science, and adventure and is a graduate of the Columbia School of Journalism. She lives in Chicago with her husband.
Invisible illness leaves little for Boissoneault to easily receive a diagnosis from within medical establishments. Living with the daily unknowing of expected symptoms and pain, Boissoneault adopts the phrase “body weather” to describe pain’s ebb and flow, something I know many with chronic illness experience, especially during this transitional time of year. Boissoneault relates her dysregulated thyroid to fluctuations in global temperature—her retroverted uterus and frequent UTIs to catastrophic floods—her inflamed joints to wildfires beyond control. I breezed through this memoir, even when the scientific aspects didn’t make complete sense. I still found myself able to connect with Boissoneault’s ability to incorporate memoir and her body’s pain history, hypothesizing when and how illness began in her life. Was it due to the poisonous Great Lakes waters she played in as a child? How much of our health comes down to our genetics when we live in a world that has progressed industrially in such a short time in comparison to the Earth’s beginning? Can we accept and justify growing cancer rates amongst younger individuals because of our ability to screen earlier and better? Why does chronic illness often have no clear bodily beginning and is instead widespread and more prominent than ever in our population? Body Weather comes to inhabit the physical body and the world around us, the fragility lying within both, and the interconnectedness of our climate and illness. I clearly haven’t been able to stop thinking about these questions and likely never will, and it seems the same can be said for Boissoneault.
This is a beautiful book about bodies, illness, disability, science, history, and weather. There are thoughtful, heartbreaking connections made between human, bodily illnesses and the earth’s various, human-caused sicknesses, but there is also hope throughout, hope grounded in reality and surrender and love.
As someone living with multiple chronic illnesses (rheumatoid arthritis, gastroparesis, and more), I found this book profoundly relatable, thought provoking, and emotionally resonant. I especially appreciated the creative organization, writing style, the way it inspires environmental and disability advocacy.
I want to acknowledge that I know Boissineault through my work in patient education and advocacy, and I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) before interviewing her on my Arthritis Life Podcast. I’ve done my best to evaluate Body Weather on its own merits. ***Organization & Creativity***
The book is organized into five parts, each corresponding to a weather phenomenon, a bodily system, and a stage of grief. I appreciate how Boissineault interweaves environmental dysfunction, bodily symptoms, and emotional experiences.
For example, Part 1 explores rising atmospheric “temperature” alongside her thyroid dysfunction and the “denial” stage of grief. In Part 5, Boissineault connects environmental “fires” with joint inflammation and the stage of radical love and acceptance.
This organizational structure gives breathing room to each of the serious issues she examines in the book. As a reader who also lives with chronic illness, I found it helpful to switch back and forth between examining environmental issues and then examining health issues.
***Writing Style***
Boissineaul’s writing shifts seamlessly between clear, informative prose and poetic metaphor. As someone with dysautonomia and temperature sensitivity, I deeply related to: “The temperature now had teeth, and no matter how I dressed, it was impossible to avoid being bitten.”
Another standout line was: “Illness, when it comes without a name, feels like being trapped in a murder mystery.” As someone who may never know the exact cause of my autoimmune disease, I found this analogy especially powerful. Her descriptions of inflammatory arthritis pain were also deeply resonant.
***Emotional Resonance***
One of the most impactful moments comes when she receives her first diagnosis: “I was sick; I had been sick before I had the words for it; I would always be sick. Where did that leave me? In a place of impossibilities. I had a name for a disease, but no name for myself…I didn’t have language to describe it and I didn’t want to find that language.”
This beautifully captures how chronic illness reshapes identity and how tempting denial can be. As the book unfolds, she shows how she learned to face the reality of an unfixable chronic illness, which leads to a more integrated sense of self.
Her experiences with dismissive or inadequate medical care were also, unfortunately, very relatable. Many readers with chronic illness will recognize these moments and feel less alone. At the same time, she highlights the medical providers who truly listen and validate.
Boissineault writes beautifully about what it’s like when your “home” (your body) is an unwelcome, inescapable environment and the fear that this naturally will engender. One particularly powerful moment comes when a doctor validates her anxiety with: “Of course you’re anxious.” That kind of acknowledgment can be profoundly healing.
She also thoughtfully connects chronic illness to broader issues like disability advocacy, sexism in medicine, ableism, and the importance of community for both disability and environmental advocacy.
***Advocacy & Inspiring Change***
This is not a typical “chronic illness memoir.” Boissineault appears to be sharing her own experience of navigating fluctuating chronic illness as both a means and an end. Her personal stories are an end as she highlights often overlooked conditions like endometriosis and inflammatory arthritis.
However, the medical stories are also a *means* towards inspiring the reader to both understand and take action on our “ill” planet. By helping readers feel grief, fear, and anger alongside her chronic illness journey *and* her relationship to a sickening planet, she creates a bridge to understanding environmental issues on a deeper level.
After reading, I felt more motivated to take action and more aware of how personal and planetary health are interconnected.
**Final Thoughts***
Speaking personally for a moment, sharing one’s story as a chronically ill person can sometimes feel like a “mind fuck.” I feel a constant tension between being honest about how hard it is and not wanting to be perceived as complaining, between respecting healthcare providers and acknowledging systemic failures, and between offering hope without falling into unrealistic “fix it” narratives.
Boissineault walks this tightrope beautifully. She shares difficult experiences without seeking pity and without diminishing their impact. She doesn’t appear to be asking us to validate or understand her better for *her* sake. She already has done the hard work of coping with her “body weather” and has learned to cope with remaining uncertainties on a personal level. Instead of validation, instead, she invites understanding and action.
Overall, I found “Body Weather” to be a powerful, poetic exploration of chronic illness that connects the body, the planet, and what it means to live with uncertainty.
I flew through this non-fiction book that's centered on grief: it's an almost seamless intertwining of personal memoir, detailing Boissoneault's chronic illnesses, her symptoms, flare-ups, procedures, and surgeries, and her often disappointing, demeaning, and exceedingly painful medical interactions; and of natural history and science study of Earth's weather and the heightened flare-ups, unpredictability, and damage that climate change brings. From the book's flap: she "explores the interconnected relationships between the human body and Earth's meteorology -- two chaotic systems that inform every cell of our being." Her detailing of the Devil's Hole pupfish history and living conditions will stick with me!
Stunning. Makes me feel like I'm in my body, and moving through the world, with a new awareness. This blend of weather and bodies feels seamless and intuitive, illustrated by fascinating science and gripping personal experience. It rings so true and personal, I want to share this book with the people I love.
This is a brave book that rewards a close, attentive read. The interweaving of illness and geology is such a thoughtful and original framing--it's not a book with "clear answers" or "key takeaways" but rather an invitation for all of us to reflect more deeply on our relationships (sometimes our struggles) with the bodies we inhabit, at scales small and planetary.