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Grief Map
“Maybe my map will help a little. If only to comfort, to say: someone else visited this place; someone else survived to make this map."
When Sarah Hahn Campbell learned of the sudden and inexplicable death of her partner, Lia, she was thousands of miles away from the Alaska town where they made a life together. Lia's mental deterioration had forced her to flee to protect her daughter’s safety and her own emotional well-being — but she never stopped loving Lia, never believed their relationship over. The unexpected news of Lia's death plunged her into terrible grief, guilt, and self-doubt, raising painful questions she couldn’t find the answers to.
Grief Map is a beautiful and unflinchingly honest record of the aftermath, a lyrical guide to her journey in the landscape of love through loss and beyond, to the rediscovery of hope and the possibility of happiness. With passion and fearless dedication, Campbell explores the history of her relationship, her discovery of lesbian identity, and the innumerable gifts and hardships of love to offer an account that is part memoir, part poetry, part elegy — a map that is universal, and will speak to anyone who has loved.
When Sarah Hahn Campbell learned of the sudden and inexplicable death of her partner, Lia, she was thousands of miles away from the Alaska town where they made a life together. Lia's mental deterioration had forced her to flee to protect her daughter’s safety and her own emotional well-being — but she never stopped loving Lia, never believed their relationship over. The unexpected news of Lia's death plunged her into terrible grief, guilt, and self-doubt, raising painful questions she couldn’t find the answers to.
Grief Map is a beautiful and unflinchingly honest record of the aftermath, a lyrical guide to her journey in the landscape of love through loss and beyond, to the rediscovery of hope and the possibility of happiness. With passion and fearless dedication, Campbell explores the history of her relationship, her discovery of lesbian identity, and the innumerable gifts and hardships of love to offer an account that is part memoir, part poetry, part elegy — a map that is universal, and will speak to anyone who has loved.
217 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 13, 2017
4 people are currently reading
143 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Hahn Campbell
6 books31 followersSarah Hahn Campbell lives in Denver, Colorado, where she teaches high school English, writes, and hikes. Campbell has published work in a variety of publications, including Curve, Room Magazine, Sinister Wisdom, Iris Brown Lit Mag, and Adoptive Families Magazine. Her novella, The Beginning of Us, came out in January 2014 from Riptide, and her collection of essays, Grief Map, came out in June 2017 from Brain Mill Press. Her trail guide and history, Her Place on the Map, came out in May 2025 from Wolverine Farm Publishing. Originally from a farm in eastern Iowa, Campbell holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Naropa University and an EdD in Educational Studies from University of Northern Colorado.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
January 21, 2018
I snagged a copy of this when I saw it was set in Alaska and that fit within my reading goals for the year. What I found was a reflective look at a relationship that ended in a grief multiplied by several factors - mental illness, having to leave, and the death of the person left. That's a lot of things to work through!
The book is written in brief segments, sometimes they are more like memoir and tell the story of Sarah and Lia. Sometimes they are more like creative non-fiction, utilizing elements of physical objects like atlas keys and autopsy reports. Sometimes they are dreams, which serve to show the author working through the emotional and sub-conscious elements of grief and memory.
The story of the relationship itself is worth the read of this book. Both Sarah and Lia were married to men when they met, and the gradual realization of their love for one another is beautiful and painful. The sacrifices made by both and the struggle to form new identities within the other make the separation and death even more poignant.
There is also this Alaskan element, which really does figure into the narrative. Is there just something about the type of people who thrive in difficult climates? That survival instinct seems important here as well.
Thanks to the publisher for providing access to this backlisted title through Edelweiss. (Backlisted = it is already out.)
The book is written in brief segments, sometimes they are more like memoir and tell the story of Sarah and Lia. Sometimes they are more like creative non-fiction, utilizing elements of physical objects like atlas keys and autopsy reports. Sometimes they are dreams, which serve to show the author working through the emotional and sub-conscious elements of grief and memory.
The story of the relationship itself is worth the read of this book. Both Sarah and Lia were married to men when they met, and the gradual realization of their love for one another is beautiful and painful. The sacrifices made by both and the struggle to form new identities within the other make the separation and death even more poignant.
There is also this Alaskan element, which really does figure into the narrative. Is there just something about the type of people who thrive in difficult climates? That survival instinct seems important here as well.
Thanks to the publisher for providing access to this backlisted title through Edelweiss. (Backlisted = it is already out.)
March 1, 2019
At random downloaded this from the libraries digital reading app. The author’s partner dies unexpectedly while they are living apart. The two women had both left their marriages with men to be with each other and the author maps their relationship, the grief, the change and all sorts of complicated emotions in this book. A combination of essays and prose poetry. Well worth a read.
July 30, 2017
I met the author--another Sarah--during the Summer Writing Program at Naropa University the summer after my mother had died from cancer. We were in a workshop with Rebecca Brown, and I remember how Sarah sought me out after the first class to talk--I remember this as well as I do for a few reasons: 1. For whatever reasons, not many people spoke to me during the summers. I think I tended to keep to myself. I didn't go out to the bars with everyone, but instead rushed home to spend time with my daughter, to rest, to try to get on top of my pain levels. 2. I was in heavy mourning for my mother at the time. I was bitter about the fact that summer should have been my last to complete for my MFA but wasn't since I'd only been able to attend one week the year before as my mother had been actively dying then and I needed to be with her. 3. I remember seeing Sarah's grief in her eyes and both understanding it and fearing it all the same. I remember thinking: She's talking to me like this because she sees my grief too.
I'm glad she talked to me. I'm glad we began to sit together more and more at all the readings and lectures. I'm glad her daughter and my daughter got along (despite their age difference). I'm glad we began to gather at her apartment in Boulder (and then later at coffee shops) to write together, to critique each other's work, to talk about writing, and to talk about teaching. And it's been an honor to read both her books now--first her novella, The Beginning of Us (which I also reviewed) and now Grief Map (which I'd heard bits and pieces of over the years, which I knew she was feverishly writing).
Grief Map is a poetic memoir that aches. Sarah's grief circles, and the important moments of both her time with Lia, and then her time mourning Lia, collapse in on each other the way grief does; as a reader, I got lost in this collapse, in the circling, in the constant coming back to this event, or that one, and when I say I got lost I mean to say the memoirist perfectly captured the trap of grief. But as the title promises, she also showed us a way out--or rather a way to survive. She illuminated her persona with silver light and the silver light spilled out of the pages until it was an aura that cloaked me and my own artichoke heart inside and all the people I have lost.
I read this book more slowly than I normally would have simply because it arrived in the mail the day after a longtime friend was found dead. I'd only just received the news. The first morning after Cate died I saw Grief Map sitting on my dining table and I told myself, Maybe now isn't the right time. But then I told myself just to take a peek while I waited for the coffee to brew. I ended up reading twenty or so pages that morning. I repeated this for a few days, and then I didn't until today, this morning, when I finished it. Tomorrow I go to the viewing of my friend, and on Tuesday her memorial. Today I read the rest of Grief Map because I hoped Sarah would show me a way to move through this sadness. I hoped I'd be inspired to write the eulogy I know I need to write. I don't know if I am inspired to do this, and I don't even know what I'm going to write today, but I do know I will write something. I know the next two days will be particularly hard, but what Grief Map reminded me of most is the fact death is a part of life, and that I am not alone in it.
I'm glad she talked to me. I'm glad we began to sit together more and more at all the readings and lectures. I'm glad her daughter and my daughter got along (despite their age difference). I'm glad we began to gather at her apartment in Boulder (and then later at coffee shops) to write together, to critique each other's work, to talk about writing, and to talk about teaching. And it's been an honor to read both her books now--first her novella, The Beginning of Us (which I also reviewed) and now Grief Map (which I'd heard bits and pieces of over the years, which I knew she was feverishly writing).
Grief Map is a poetic memoir that aches. Sarah's grief circles, and the important moments of both her time with Lia, and then her time mourning Lia, collapse in on each other the way grief does; as a reader, I got lost in this collapse, in the circling, in the constant coming back to this event, or that one, and when I say I got lost I mean to say the memoirist perfectly captured the trap of grief. But as the title promises, she also showed us a way out--or rather a way to survive. She illuminated her persona with silver light and the silver light spilled out of the pages until it was an aura that cloaked me and my own artichoke heart inside and all the people I have lost.
I read this book more slowly than I normally would have simply because it arrived in the mail the day after a longtime friend was found dead. I'd only just received the news. The first morning after Cate died I saw Grief Map sitting on my dining table and I told myself, Maybe now isn't the right time. But then I told myself just to take a peek while I waited for the coffee to brew. I ended up reading twenty or so pages that morning. I repeated this for a few days, and then I didn't until today, this morning, when I finished it. Tomorrow I go to the viewing of my friend, and on Tuesday her memorial. Today I read the rest of Grief Map because I hoped Sarah would show me a way to move through this sadness. I hoped I'd be inspired to write the eulogy I know I need to write. I don't know if I am inspired to do this, and I don't even know what I'm going to write today, but I do know I will write something. I know the next two days will be particularly hard, but what Grief Map reminded me of most is the fact death is a part of life, and that I am not alone in it.
November 18, 2020
'Love makes people go on. Enough? On the hammock in the afternoon, I hold my sleeping child while I stare up at the blue sky. The grackles argue in the treetops. Enough? Enough? Go on, go on!
A fragment. Who knew a piece of a person could breathe and think and feel?'
This grief memoir captures the disorientation and trauma of sudden and unexpected loss. Sarah is told of Lia's death during a 4 month separation, the coroner's report is inconclusive and Sarah is haunted by Lia's erratic behaviour, which caused this parting.
Yet Lia was the love of Sarah's life, both their marriages crumbled due to their attraction for each other, and Sarah believed they would find each other again.
Sarah describes the numbness, pain and disassociation of early grief in it's complete rawness. Sometimes the emotion, overwhelmed the narrative but it's honesty and poignancy remained.
'I still dwell in an in-between world, and sometimes ---- ah! --- I see her there.'
The only way out is through with this type of grief and Sarah's map, shows her path from loss, guilt, blame to letting fragments of light in nature and family revive & heal.
A fragment. Who knew a piece of a person could breathe and think and feel?'
This grief memoir captures the disorientation and trauma of sudden and unexpected loss. Sarah is told of Lia's death during a 4 month separation, the coroner's report is inconclusive and Sarah is haunted by Lia's erratic behaviour, which caused this parting.
Yet Lia was the love of Sarah's life, both their marriages crumbled due to their attraction for each other, and Sarah believed they would find each other again.
Sarah describes the numbness, pain and disassociation of early grief in it's complete rawness. Sometimes the emotion, overwhelmed the narrative but it's honesty and poignancy remained.
'I still dwell in an in-between world, and sometimes ---- ah! --- I see her there.'
The only way out is through with this type of grief and Sarah's map, shows her path from loss, guilt, blame to letting fragments of light in nature and family revive & heal.
June 3, 2020
I picked this up originally thinking it was a fiction book about grief, but its actually the author's very personal experience with losing her long term partner and best friend.
It's impossible to review or criticise something so personal and raw, but this doesn't even warrant a criticism. It was so beautifully written and heartbreaking, I reread several sentences in this over and over again. This book made me smile and it made me cry.
I have personally never experienced loss, but these words seemed to capture so many emotions so perfectly, I'm glad I read it.
It's impossible to review or criticise something so personal and raw, but this doesn't even warrant a criticism. It was so beautifully written and heartbreaking, I reread several sentences in this over and over again. This book made me smile and it made me cry.
I have personally never experienced loss, but these words seemed to capture so many emotions so perfectly, I'm glad I read it.
August 9, 2017
This book is an amazing exploration into grief. It is like the descent of Inanna into the underworld, a story of a woman naked and crucified, resurrected by the power of water and the belief that love can return within the living. Sarah Hahn Campbell writes a raw and powerful story, full of the grit and bones of the ashes of her beloved. I could not put this book down.
December 5, 2018
A lesson in self flagellation. Miserable.
November 9, 2018
This book was heart-wrenching and painful, but ultimately hopeful. It made laugh and cry and there were times I had to put it aside for an hour or two just to take it in and deal with my emotions. This isn't an easy read, but it's so wonderful. It touched me in ways that books rarely do. Congrats on the Goldie for Grief Map, Sarah. I loved it so much and I'm happy you got the recognition you deserve. Also, The Beginning of Us remains one of my all time favorite reads and although I know you're busy with life, I selfishly hope you'll continue writing
June 30, 2024
(Sarah is a co-worker -- we sponsored the students' Creative Writing club together.)
Dear Sarah,
I just finished Grief Map. Thank you for writing that. I am sorry for your loss, for the loneliness and heartbreak you endured. It was generous of you to share your story. Your prose and poetry are genuine, skillful, and moving.
Thanks for sharing your wisdom and guidance in CW club this year. Enjoy your sweet family this summer, good luck with degree work.
Best regards, Katharine
Dear Sarah,
I just finished Grief Map. Thank you for writing that. I am sorry for your loss, for the loneliness and heartbreak you endured. It was generous of you to share your story. Your prose and poetry are genuine, skillful, and moving.
Thanks for sharing your wisdom and guidance in CW club this year. Enjoy your sweet family this summer, good luck with degree work.
Best regards, Katharine
August 24, 2018
The ending
Having experienced the loss of a long term (35 years) partner I can honestly say I’m sorry you went through so much. Reading Grief Map made some sense of where you were coming from. Your writing left nothing to the imagination although sometimes a little confusing. Still it was enjoyable. Keep on writing.
Having experienced the loss of a long term (35 years) partner I can honestly say I’m sorry you went through so much. Reading Grief Map made some sense of where you were coming from. Your writing left nothing to the imagination although sometimes a little confusing. Still it was enjoyable. Keep on writing.
February 9, 2019
I wanted to love this more than I did. It felt-- unfinished, kind of like an MFA thesis. Not put through the ringer to trim the fat off. After I finished I found out it *was* her MFA thesis. Some shiny bits.
December 24, 2019
(4.5)
What did Thoreau say?
'Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.' Georgia O’Keefe said no one sees flowers because they don’t take the time, like being a friend takes time. Virgil said our sweetest hours fly the fastest. I love when my students say sometimes, at the end of class, “It’s time to go already?
It’s time. But how much time is right before … ?
I’m dizzy. Sorrow and joy mimic each other: they both tangle time. But I want to get lost this time. I want to live in joy and forget what I know of death and loss and grief. I have time. Even if it’s only this precious, beautiful moment, I have time.
What did Thoreau say?
'Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.' Georgia O’Keefe said no one sees flowers because they don’t take the time, like being a friend takes time. Virgil said our sweetest hours fly the fastest. I love when my students say sometimes, at the end of class, “It’s time to go already?
It’s time. But how much time is right before … ?
I’m dizzy. Sorrow and joy mimic each other: they both tangle time. But I want to get lost this time. I want to live in joy and forget what I know of death and loss and grief. I have time. Even if it’s only this precious, beautiful moment, I have time.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews