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The World I Fell Out Of
On Good Friday, 2010 Melanie Reid fell from her horse, breaking her neck and fracturing her lower back. She was 52.
Paralysed from the top of her chest down, she was to spend almost a full year in hospital, determinedly working towards gaining as much movement in her limbs as possible, and learning to navigate her way through a world that had previously been invisible to her.
As a journalist Melanie had always turned to words and now, on a spinal ward peopled by an extraordinary array of individuals who were similarly at sea, she decided that writing would be her life-line. The World I Fell Out Of is an account of that year, and of those that followed. It is the untold ‘back story’ behind Melanie’s award-winning ‘Spinal Column’ in The Times Magazine and a testament to ‘the art of getting on with it’.
Unflinchingly honest and beautifully observed, this is a memoir about the joy – and the risks – of riding horses, the complicated nature of heroism, the bonds of family and the comfort of strangers.
Above all, The World I Fell Out Of is a reminder that at any moment the life we know can be turned upside down – and a plea to start appreciating what we have while we have it.
Paralysed from the top of her chest down, she was to spend almost a full year in hospital, determinedly working towards gaining as much movement in her limbs as possible, and learning to navigate her way through a world that had previously been invisible to her.
As a journalist Melanie had always turned to words and now, on a spinal ward peopled by an extraordinary array of individuals who were similarly at sea, she decided that writing would be her life-line. The World I Fell Out Of is an account of that year, and of those that followed. It is the untold ‘back story’ behind Melanie’s award-winning ‘Spinal Column’ in The Times Magazine and a testament to ‘the art of getting on with it’.
Unflinchingly honest and beautifully observed, this is a memoir about the joy – and the risks – of riding horses, the complicated nature of heroism, the bonds of family and the comfort of strangers.
Above all, The World I Fell Out Of is a reminder that at any moment the life we know can be turned upside down – and a plea to start appreciating what we have while we have it.
401 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 7, 2019
79 people are currently reading
825 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 85 reviews
April 3, 2019
“My name, it would seem, is still Melanie and I am a doubly-incontinent tetraplegic.” I’ve been following Reid’s progress off and on through her London Times column ever since she was thrown from her horse on Good Friday 2010 and broke her neck. She spent a year in a Glasgow high-dependency hospital unit, a time she recreates in a lot of vivid and funny detail (almost everyone is anonymized in the book, so the nurses are nicknamed after plants and the fellow patients by character traits). There was so much to get used to in this new life, not least her body’s limitations and a total end to privacy.
Gut and bowel problems were a persistent nuisance; a colostomy ended up being the best decision she ever made, she says, because it put her back into control of her body. But it was no perfect fix: she remembers a horrific moment when she had a colostomy bag spill at the hairdresser’s and, while her husband Dave was helping her clean up with a bucket at the car, a reader came up and said, “Hello, are you Melanie Reid?” How’s that for timing?!
Reid speaks of adult acquired disability as “a compound fracture of the soul” that requires one to completely reframe one’s existence. She remembers the diminished life that her invalid aunt led in the mid-20th century and children’s books like Polyanna and What Katy Did that encouraged resignation and cheerfulness no matter what. Contrast that with the martial imagery that is associated almost as strongly with neurological rehabilitation as it is with cancer and you can see why she felt damned if she did hope for continuing recovery and damned if she didn’t. While she has indeed regained some sensation and movement in her lower body, she knows she’ll never be free of a wheelchair.
There were specific losses Reid experienced that I wouldn’t have predicted. One had to do with her height: at over six feet, she’d always been one of the tallest people in a room; now, in her wheelchair, she’s stuck at crotch height. She had never realized how big a role her tallness played in her identity until she lost it. As a disabled woman she also feels asexual. This came home to her for the first time in a heartbreaking moment when she was being airlifted from the site of her accident and the hot paramedic in the chopper said “keep breathing; do it for me.” A pure romance novel scenario that clinched for her that she would never be approached sexually again.
I was least interested in Reid’s horsey history, which occupies about 50 pages. About 20 months after her accident, she got back in the saddle via the Riding for the Disabled Association and was thrown again, breaking her hip. (Lightning does strike twice sometimes!) At that point she gave up on horses forever, though she does still let people stable ponies at her remote Scotland home and has driven horse-drawn carriages since. Given that closure on horses, I wasn’t sure why she devoted the epilogue to the irrelevant story of rider Jo Barry’s remarkable recovery.
Today, Reid maintains something like independence by driving a specially adapted car, and can manage transfers to and from bed by herself. Her column helps her feel purposeful, while all kinds of other things have faded into triviality, like female body woes and the sort of daily annoyances that once caused friction with her husband or son. Although she can’t blame other tetraplegics for giving in to the temptation of suicide, she holds onto enough hope to keep her going, and takes joy in simple things like seeing birds pass through her garden.
There is a definite message here: appreciate what you have while you have it, because your life is never as bad as you think it is. Though it is a touch over-long, this is a great example of an accessible medical memoir that draws attention to the struggles the disabled go through.
Some favorite lines:
“My sanity, my compensation, was to pretend I was indeed that war correspondent on the front line, compelled to start recording this crazy story, to make sense of it to myself. Besides, it was good copy.”
“Four-fifths of my body has divorced me, but it’s still attached to me.”
“Getting up was a ritual like preparing a medieval knight for battle”
“When you are in a damaged body, or have a chronic condition, you never quite cease to tease yourself with that ‘if only’ and the ‘what if’.”
Gut and bowel problems were a persistent nuisance; a colostomy ended up being the best decision she ever made, she says, because it put her back into control of her body. But it was no perfect fix: she remembers a horrific moment when she had a colostomy bag spill at the hairdresser’s and, while her husband Dave was helping her clean up with a bucket at the car, a reader came up and said, “Hello, are you Melanie Reid?” How’s that for timing?!
Reid speaks of adult acquired disability as “a compound fracture of the soul” that requires one to completely reframe one’s existence. She remembers the diminished life that her invalid aunt led in the mid-20th century and children’s books like Polyanna and What Katy Did that encouraged resignation and cheerfulness no matter what. Contrast that with the martial imagery that is associated almost as strongly with neurological rehabilitation as it is with cancer and you can see why she felt damned if she did hope for continuing recovery and damned if she didn’t. While she has indeed regained some sensation and movement in her lower body, she knows she’ll never be free of a wheelchair.
There were specific losses Reid experienced that I wouldn’t have predicted. One had to do with her height: at over six feet, she’d always been one of the tallest people in a room; now, in her wheelchair, she’s stuck at crotch height. She had never realized how big a role her tallness played in her identity until she lost it. As a disabled woman she also feels asexual. This came home to her for the first time in a heartbreaking moment when she was being airlifted from the site of her accident and the hot paramedic in the chopper said “keep breathing; do it for me.” A pure romance novel scenario that clinched for her that she would never be approached sexually again.
I was least interested in Reid’s horsey history, which occupies about 50 pages. About 20 months after her accident, she got back in the saddle via the Riding for the Disabled Association and was thrown again, breaking her hip. (Lightning does strike twice sometimes!) At that point she gave up on horses forever, though she does still let people stable ponies at her remote Scotland home and has driven horse-drawn carriages since. Given that closure on horses, I wasn’t sure why she devoted the epilogue to the irrelevant story of rider Jo Barry’s remarkable recovery.
Today, Reid maintains something like independence by driving a specially adapted car, and can manage transfers to and from bed by herself. Her column helps her feel purposeful, while all kinds of other things have faded into triviality, like female body woes and the sort of daily annoyances that once caused friction with her husband or son. Although she can’t blame other tetraplegics for giving in to the temptation of suicide, she holds onto enough hope to keep her going, and takes joy in simple things like seeing birds pass through her garden.
There is a definite message here: appreciate what you have while you have it, because your life is never as bad as you think it is. Though it is a touch over-long, this is a great example of an accessible medical memoir that draws attention to the struggles the disabled go through.
Some favorite lines:
“My sanity, my compensation, was to pretend I was indeed that war correspondent on the front line, compelled to start recording this crazy story, to make sense of it to myself. Besides, it was good copy.”
“Four-fifths of my body has divorced me, but it’s still attached to me.”
“Getting up was a ritual like preparing a medieval knight for battle”
“When you are in a damaged body, or have a chronic condition, you never quite cease to tease yourself with that ‘if only’ and the ‘what if’.”
March 10, 2019
Accidents happen, Melanie Reid fell off her horse. In ‘The world I fell out of’ she tells the story of her journey of recovery after the life changing horse-riding accident had left her paralysed from the chest down. From reading her story not only did I gain a little insight into the world of disability, which is so misunderstood by the people outside it, but have also been reminded how little it takes for your whole world to be turned upside down. The book sheds light on the many ways in which your life changes after paralysis (from not being able to dance, to not being able to feel the sheets that cover you when you lie in bed), as well as the way in which the world treats people with a disability. Reid takes you on her long and very difficult journey but the book itself is not a heavy read. Melanie Reid describes her experiences in a very personal, accessible and darkly funny way. This very personal style of writing gave me the feeling that I got to know her, as if I got to follow her journey all the way through. This books makes you think about your own life, in making you realise the things you take for granted in everyday life. I really enjoyed reading this book, and I believe we all can learn something about ourselves and how we live our lives from reading this. Melanie Reid shows us that: “[…] until it happens to you, you have no concept of how everything could disappear in seconds”. - Thank you to 4th Estate books for sending me an advance copy of this book.
March 19, 2019
I have been enjoying reading this book for a few reasons. Most of this book is familiar to me and this has been comforting. Spinal injury is a very personal journey but there are similarities in every case. Here, Melanie is rehabilitated in the same unit I went to; saught even the smallest glimmer of hope from the same specialists; met every shade of the shadiest, sweetest and funniest of characters; the re-evaluation and upheaval of bodily-function, work, relationships and home. It's all in here, written honestly, matter of fact and without self-pity. It's smart, informative, emotional but hugely positive on our powers to heal ourselves.
June 27, 2021
A certain pattern descends when you come as an adult to disability. You have a problem, you learn how to manage it. For as long as things proceed on an even keel, that's fine. You become a little complacent and relax a bit. Then more things go wrong, only in a different way, and you're forced to raise your game and learn from scratch how to handle them as well.Deep breath. This is the memoir of Melanie Reid, who was thrown from her horse and broke her neck, leaving her paralysed. The book follows the events of the fall herself, to the year she spent at a spinal-unit in a hospital in Glasgow, and the long process afterwards of trying to reintegrate with life at home, outside of the hospital.
I really could not have predicted how relatable I would find so much of this book. I now, after many, many years of constant denial, identify as disabled. My disability has entirely different practicalities to Reid's, but many chapters are devoted to the mental difficulties in coping with "becoming" disabled, as it actually requires a complete shift in identity and how you perceive yourself, and that's something that I deeply related to. I think this is something that able-bodied people completely fail to understand (even when they try), and it was honestly a relief to read Reid's words. I have absolutely failed to express these kind of feelings over the years, so I really appreciate Reid just sharing her writing and thoughts in this way.
One example is the fact I've tried myself to explain to my family before how strange it can feel sometimes, as a wheelchair user, to be, as Reid beautifully puts it, "crotch-height". Now, I am no where near as tall as Reid, so I can see how "loss" of height would hurt her sense of self even more, but even I as a much shorter person found using a wheelchair at first really surreal for this very reason. It completely changes how you feel in a space (in terms of safety, confidence and much more) when you are suddenly so much lower down than other adults. I now love my wheelchair, and can see how much freedom it gives me (so no I do not like the term "wheelchair-bound"), but it was definitely a huge shift and required a lot to cope with internally.
On the physical side, Reid is surprised again and again how a linear recovery and much hoped for return to "normality" feels more and more out of reach. Despite surprising her doctors and nurses with her progress, she feels increasingly depressed at not being able to achieve the unrealistically high goals she set for her recovery. She just can't stop hoping:
I felt the weight of that moral duty to recover, but paralysis was not recoverable from. It was a dead end. A no return. What was I to do? Even though I knew - and science knows; Christ, everyone knows - there is no existing cure for broken and crushed spines, not to try to get better at the very least seemed improper. Hence the need to resist disability, the failure to accept.The chapters on Reid's love of horses were much, much more unfamiliar to me, as I know absolutely nothing about horses. Clearly, after the accident, Reid was very wary of continuing with this much loved hobby, but her love for it is so clear and I think anyone could understand how giving up so important to you would be so difficult.
Despite being really honest about the terrible times that she's been through, this memoir also has a lot of little moments of humour. In particular, I love the fun nicknames Reid choose to protect the identities of staff and other patients who were in the hospital with her. The Glaswegian character also comes through clearly in these chapters, as well as Reid's gratitude towards the NHS, despite its many problems.
By the end of the book, Reid clearly wants to give a message that she has reached some kind of acceptance and wants to tell others to joy in the simple, small things in life. I was slightly sad the epilogue wasn't devoted to herself, but maybe this meeting is something that was helpful to her personally. Really, I can't say anything more. I loved this book and want to say thank you to Reid for sharing her story.
March 11, 2019
I wonder if Melanie Reid would want to be described as inspiring? I doubt it. I suspect she might force a pained smile at such patronage, feeling like a child patted on the head for good behaviour. Her stated aim is not to be lauded as a hero – merely to be ordinary. To do those things able-bodied people take for granted while grumbling ungratefully, unthinkingly, about the minutiae of life. To walk, to dance, to escape from bores and farts at cocktail parties. It doesn’t sound much to ask, does it?
Honest, well written and engaging, this book will make you pause for thought; it may even cause a tingle of involuntary guilt-ridden selfishness - there but for the grace of God go I. But it makes clear that a debate is needed about how we treat the disabled, how we cater for them in terms of access to buildings, how we adjust to make them feel part of society. As a person who was able-bodied, and she is truthful enough to admit that she scarcely gave a thought to issues affecting the disabled in the days when she could walk, Reid has learned the hard way that there is a long way to go.
That’s not to say the book is a dry polemic – far from it. It has a mordant edge of black humour in it, a heart-warming paean to the NHS nurses, doctors and staff who care for her, recognition of the love and unfailing support of her family, and proof of the indomitable human spirit that makes her work continually at her rehabilitation. Ultimately, she has come to an acceptance of her disability, and ends with a genuine plea to the rest of us to appreciate our lives and “get busy living... because you can”.
Honest, well written and engaging, this book will make you pause for thought; it may even cause a tingle of involuntary guilt-ridden selfishness - there but for the grace of God go I. But it makes clear that a debate is needed about how we treat the disabled, how we cater for them in terms of access to buildings, how we adjust to make them feel part of society. As a person who was able-bodied, and she is truthful enough to admit that she scarcely gave a thought to issues affecting the disabled in the days when she could walk, Reid has learned the hard way that there is a long way to go.
That’s not to say the book is a dry polemic – far from it. It has a mordant edge of black humour in it, a heart-warming paean to the NHS nurses, doctors and staff who care for her, recognition of the love and unfailing support of her family, and proof of the indomitable human spirit that makes her work continually at her rehabilitation. Ultimately, she has come to an acceptance of her disability, and ends with a genuine plea to the rest of us to appreciate our lives and “get busy living... because you can”.
March 13, 2024
I don’t know if enjoyable is the right word to describe this book, but I think Melanie Reid definitely picks up on the dark humour of a long hospital stay after a life changing accident.
Being disabled myself I can understand some of the things she discusses. But I have always lived in my body and haven’t had to adjust to a life without disability.
I loved the sections where horses are described, in fact every person and animal that helped Mel really come alive in her story. She has taught me to embrace my life, find my voice and appreciate everything I have.
Being disabled myself I can understand some of the things she discusses. But I have always lived in my body and haven’t had to adjust to a life without disability.
I loved the sections where horses are described, in fact every person and animal that helped Mel really come alive in her story. She has taught me to embrace my life, find my voice and appreciate everything I have.
April 5, 2019
4.5 stars rounded up to 5. This is a wonderfully written and absorbing book about Melanie Reid's riding accident in 2010 and how she rebuilt her mind and life. Harrowing, hilarious and poignant, this is easily one of the best memoir's I've read and highly recommended.
September 8, 2020
"The art of living well, I think, is to understand how swiftly you get old, and to learn to identify golden ages as quickly as possible. And the real secret is not to be always looking forward, plotting the fulfilment of tomorrow [...] Instead, to focus on what constitutes your life at the time and love what you already have."
I have had the pleasure of meeting Melanie Reid in person - in one of my university courses, she did a guest lecture about her experience of spinal cord injury, and the ramifications of it to various aspects of her life. When reading this, I knew I was going to get a more in-depth look into the things she mentioned on that day to us. This book, however, not only provided a more intimate look at her accident and injury, but also served as a truly exceptional reminder of the extraordinary humanity we all hold within us when faced with challenges.
Melanie Reid was able to fully expose all of the thoughts she experienced post-accident. We live in a day and age where, fortunately, a lot of these medical topics are known about; and yet, the taboo nature of talking about when things go wrong in our bodies is ever present. For example, the way she hid her pain from her family and friends, masking her suffering with a smile, echoed the social struggles we all face when we must confront our inner demons in silence, in fear of encumbering those you love most or being judged by those who cannot understand what you are going through.
At times, when reading this book, I felt overwhelmed with the tragedy of this story, immersing myself in the destructive thoughts Melanie had when she fell out of the able-bodied world and into the world of the disabled. And yet, she also took the time to present us with some truly important advice and used every opportunity to tell the reader some truly valuable advice and insight.
I found the chapters of the loss of self and the reconstruction of her narrative truly fascinating, something that everybody should consider looking into. She also went into chapters that, even though very interesting, were not as relevant for me (especially considering I am not versed at all in the world of horse riding!). This made some aspects of the book slower for me to read, and I did have moments were I pushed myself to read past some of these chapters. HOWEVER, once I took the time to understand what she was trying to show me, the general applicability of it became apparent, and I was once again engulfed by the narrative.
I do believe this book is worth reading by most people. I found it interesting as I am currently studying a biomedical degree, and I can imagine how powerful this book would be if the reader had also suffered a spinal cord injury. However, the power of some of the parts of this book are truly wonderful, and even if you end up not reading this book, I ask that you at least try and overcome some of the discomfort of talking about illness, and try to hear the stories from those whose lives might not be the same as yours.
I have had the pleasure of meeting Melanie Reid in person - in one of my university courses, she did a guest lecture about her experience of spinal cord injury, and the ramifications of it to various aspects of her life. When reading this, I knew I was going to get a more in-depth look into the things she mentioned on that day to us. This book, however, not only provided a more intimate look at her accident and injury, but also served as a truly exceptional reminder of the extraordinary humanity we all hold within us when faced with challenges.
Melanie Reid was able to fully expose all of the thoughts she experienced post-accident. We live in a day and age where, fortunately, a lot of these medical topics are known about; and yet, the taboo nature of talking about when things go wrong in our bodies is ever present. For example, the way she hid her pain from her family and friends, masking her suffering with a smile, echoed the social struggles we all face when we must confront our inner demons in silence, in fear of encumbering those you love most or being judged by those who cannot understand what you are going through.
At times, when reading this book, I felt overwhelmed with the tragedy of this story, immersing myself in the destructive thoughts Melanie had when she fell out of the able-bodied world and into the world of the disabled. And yet, she also took the time to present us with some truly important advice and used every opportunity to tell the reader some truly valuable advice and insight.
I found the chapters of the loss of self and the reconstruction of her narrative truly fascinating, something that everybody should consider looking into. She also went into chapters that, even though very interesting, were not as relevant for me (especially considering I am not versed at all in the world of horse riding!). This made some aspects of the book slower for me to read, and I did have moments were I pushed myself to read past some of these chapters. HOWEVER, once I took the time to understand what she was trying to show me, the general applicability of it became apparent, and I was once again engulfed by the narrative.
I do believe this book is worth reading by most people. I found it interesting as I am currently studying a biomedical degree, and I can imagine how powerful this book would be if the reader had also suffered a spinal cord injury. However, the power of some of the parts of this book are truly wonderful, and even if you end up not reading this book, I ask that you at least try and overcome some of the discomfort of talking about illness, and try to hear the stories from those whose lives might not be the same as yours.
June 19, 2019
This is as much a book about the betrayal of the body, as about the power of the mind. We are very lucky to have someone who has - randomly unlucky - broken her neck and spine and became paralyzed, but who possesses such a power to give words to her experience. She describes tantalizingly the losses, physically and mentally, such as losing the ability to sleep as you like: 'The private geometry of your night, your ability to cuddle into shapes practised from childhood.' But also the mindnumbing dependancy: 'Continually, I assessed the size of my goodwill overdraft, drawing on other people's kindness.' She talks about the sociology of illness, and how the discourse of battle has become part of how we perceive illness; and how being brave is a way to retrieve status in the 'upperworld' of the healthy and fit. Sad as the reason of its existence is, this is a stunning work, and an example of the redeeming power of the written word.
November 8, 2021
This is a hard book to review.
I’ve read some autobiographies that are very similar to this. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” by Jean-Dominique Bauby and “The Little Big Things” by Henry Fraser immediately spring to mind. In both cases the authors suffered extensive life changing injuries and their books told the story of their struggles. Not dissimilar to Reid’s book. But whereas both Bauby and Fraser were charismatic and inspiring, I found Reid to be prickly and abrasive.
I think a lot of that is to do with a shell she has built up around herself - possibly to protect her reputation as a journalist. But the result for me was a kind of detached telling of her story, with bits that were repeated in an almost disbelieving kind of way. As if repeating things multiple times may change the outcome. This is most likely due to the book being an extension of her “day job” as a writer, whereas the other books I mentioned have probably been written more as reflective therapy and are a bit more personal.
That said, where we did see glimpses of her emotion and humanity you really did get a sense of the person underneath all the anger. And I am not for one second taking away anything to do with the utter tragedy of her accident or how hard she has worked on her recovery. I have had up close, personal experience of the recovery involved in a traumatic brain injury, and I can only imagine how hard Reid has had to work to overcome her even more extensive injuries.
It’s a very readable book and I did enjoy it and hope that Reid continues to improve every day.
I’ve read some autobiographies that are very similar to this. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” by Jean-Dominique Bauby and “The Little Big Things” by Henry Fraser immediately spring to mind. In both cases the authors suffered extensive life changing injuries and their books told the story of their struggles. Not dissimilar to Reid’s book. But whereas both Bauby and Fraser were charismatic and inspiring, I found Reid to be prickly and abrasive.
I think a lot of that is to do with a shell she has built up around herself - possibly to protect her reputation as a journalist. But the result for me was a kind of detached telling of her story, with bits that were repeated in an almost disbelieving kind of way. As if repeating things multiple times may change the outcome. This is most likely due to the book being an extension of her “day job” as a writer, whereas the other books I mentioned have probably been written more as reflective therapy and are a bit more personal.
That said, where we did see glimpses of her emotion and humanity you really did get a sense of the person underneath all the anger. And I am not for one second taking away anything to do with the utter tragedy of her accident or how hard she has worked on her recovery. I have had up close, personal experience of the recovery involved in a traumatic brain injury, and I can only imagine how hard Reid has had to work to overcome her even more extensive injuries.
It’s a very readable book and I did enjoy it and hope that Reid continues to improve every day.
September 19, 2024
Do not read this if you are suffering from or close to someone with a spinal cord injury. Whilst it is well-written and informative for someone with a passing interest, the writer is utterly miserable about her condition and offers little hope, inspiration or positivity. My husband was injured last year and I found this misery-making in the extreme, despite already knowing what we are dealing with. I listened to the audiobook read by the author which was even worse and read with such a miserable monotone that I regret listening, it having plunged me into worsening despair.
January 12, 2019
Whenever I am feeling down or sorry for myself I open up Melanie Reid's incredible Spinal Column in The Times.
In 2010 she suffered catastrophic injuries falling off her horse, broke her neck and is now a tetraplegic.
This book is her record of what happened on that terrible day and how she has coped with the vicissitudes of life and just as importantly how life has coped with her.
In places the book is terribly matter of fact when describing terrible things that happened to her and the many others with whom she spent time in a Glasgow spinal clinic, at others it is understandably bitter and angry.
It is always humbling and inspirational to read how she has carried on with the loving help and support of her family and how she copes with everyday situations that able bodied people take for granted but which are almost insurmountable for her.
At times I laughed out look particularly when a stranger she and her husband had helped told her that "good things" would happen to her just the week before her accident. At others I cried but at all times I felt humbled and honoured to read her brilliantly honed words.
It was a privilege to read this book which is a must read.
In 2010 she suffered catastrophic injuries falling off her horse, broke her neck and is now a tetraplegic.
This book is her record of what happened on that terrible day and how she has coped with the vicissitudes of life and just as importantly how life has coped with her.
In places the book is terribly matter of fact when describing terrible things that happened to her and the many others with whom she spent time in a Glasgow spinal clinic, at others it is understandably bitter and angry.
It is always humbling and inspirational to read how she has carried on with the loving help and support of her family and how she copes with everyday situations that able bodied people take for granted but which are almost insurmountable for her.
At times I laughed out look particularly when a stranger she and her husband had helped told her that "good things" would happen to her just the week before her accident. At others I cried but at all times I felt humbled and honoured to read her brilliantly honed words.
It was a privilege to read this book which is a must read.
October 30, 2023
It’s impossible to do justice to this incredible memoir in the space of a short review. I made several notes in the process of reading it but they just don’t seem to demonstrate well enough how brilliant and essential this book is.
Melanie Reid broke her neck and fractured her lower back damaging her spinal cord when she came off a horse in her early fifties. While undergoing an early scan to assess the damage, her journalist’s brain (which mercifully was still functioning perfectly) thought "this is interesting – I should record this experience” and so she did over the course of the next nine years when this book was eventually published.
What a leveller serious injury is for it makes no distinction and her experiences in the spinal unit of a Glasgow hospital are full of acute observation (of both patients and staff) and black humour. She spares no blushes in her recounting of the many indignities of her condition and the awful realisation of just how much she has lost.
But eventually through sheer determination and bloody-mindedness (and with the support of a stoical husband and adoring son) she does recover some use of the parts of her body she thought of as mere appendages, even to the extent of getting back on a horse.
This book should be essential reading for everyone, without exception. It makes you value the preciousness of all the casual movements and activities we take completely for granted, and brings a better understanding of those who have been deprived of such a luxury, and the everyday hardships they face.
It is full of wisdom, anger, beauty, sadness and respect; it is powerful and beautifully expressed. It’s the sort of book you want to thrust upon others to read. Brilliant.
Melanie Reid broke her neck and fractured her lower back damaging her spinal cord when she came off a horse in her early fifties. While undergoing an early scan to assess the damage, her journalist’s brain (which mercifully was still functioning perfectly) thought "this is interesting – I should record this experience” and so she did over the course of the next nine years when this book was eventually published.
What a leveller serious injury is for it makes no distinction and her experiences in the spinal unit of a Glasgow hospital are full of acute observation (of both patients and staff) and black humour. She spares no blushes in her recounting of the many indignities of her condition and the awful realisation of just how much she has lost.
But eventually through sheer determination and bloody-mindedness (and with the support of a stoical husband and adoring son) she does recover some use of the parts of her body she thought of as mere appendages, even to the extent of getting back on a horse.
This book should be essential reading for everyone, without exception. It makes you value the preciousness of all the casual movements and activities we take completely for granted, and brings a better understanding of those who have been deprived of such a luxury, and the everyday hardships they face.
It is full of wisdom, anger, beauty, sadness and respect; it is powerful and beautifully expressed. It’s the sort of book you want to thrust upon others to read. Brilliant.
July 3, 2024
Such a real, invigorating portrayal of what life is like before and after she received a devasting blow to the neck and back while doing the thing she loved most in this world: horse-riding. All I could wonder throughout this book was: was she ever angry at the horse? had she forgiven the horse? did she hold resentment towards him? At around chapter nine and ten she answered that question. Melanie Reid's raw truthfulness has inspired me so much and opened my worldview to understand the daily life of paraplegics and tetraplegics, and to appreciate the privileged life that we, able-bodied people live in selfishness. The book has taught me to be grateful, to never give up, never stop trying, and never take anything for granted. Reid's sense of understanding and compelling truth is beyond inspirational, it would be life-changing to anyone she told her story too. A strong and stubborn woman is realized throughout reading. Her stubbornness sometimes failed her but carried her too. For example, when she wanted to give the Loko-mat a go even though physiotherapists deemed it unlikely. She didn't give up in her battle to prove to every physiotherapist and patient residing with her in the spinal unit, that she was able to do the things she really set out to do. I would recommend this book to someone who takes life too seriously, is constantly worrying, and someone who doesn't stop to take in the beauties of the scenery around them.
Melanie is a true inspiration; I say that not out of consideration for her accident or the fact that she is a tetraplegic, I state it because she never gave up on what life had to offer her. She fought a battle that the strongest person would consider giving up and failing. A raw, authentic Autobiography that sheds light on life.
Melanie is a true inspiration; I say that not out of consideration for her accident or the fact that she is a tetraplegic, I state it because she never gave up on what life had to offer her. She fought a battle that the strongest person would consider giving up and failing. A raw, authentic Autobiography that sheds light on life.
August 27, 2021
It took me a while to read this extremely candid memoir of a 52yr old woman who suffered a life changing injury after coming off her horse.
I read lots in one sitting but had long pauses in between each read. Maybe it was my frame of mind and the current global situation that prevented me from getting stuck into this well written book.
I believe people can only tell their truth from their lived experience and so to get an understanding of life following a severe neck injury/ spinal cord damage and body paralysis, to whatever degree of severity they find themselves left with, is to read a book from someone who is living with it.
It’s an incredible account. Melanie Reid, the author, puts her feelings and emotions and lays them bare. It is raw, sad, and explores everything from toileting, socialising, hope, and being a sexual being trapped in a body that can’t cooperate.
She has a dark, dry humour that makes this a little less ‘heavy’. It is a sobering read in all honesty. I felt close to tears multiple times.
I didn’t race through this book; when I sat down to read I did, but days would go by and I didn’t reach for it. So it was very intermittent for me. Maybe because of the global unrest it wasn’t the best book for the time. I am glad I stuck with it though.
What this book does is makes you realise the gifts we have - the gift of movement, independence, choice. To live life in the moment and to truly appreciate all you have because you never know what tomorrow will bring.
3.5 /5
I read lots in one sitting but had long pauses in between each read. Maybe it was my frame of mind and the current global situation that prevented me from getting stuck into this well written book.
I believe people can only tell their truth from their lived experience and so to get an understanding of life following a severe neck injury/ spinal cord damage and body paralysis, to whatever degree of severity they find themselves left with, is to read a book from someone who is living with it.
It’s an incredible account. Melanie Reid, the author, puts her feelings and emotions and lays them bare. It is raw, sad, and explores everything from toileting, socialising, hope, and being a sexual being trapped in a body that can’t cooperate.
She has a dark, dry humour that makes this a little less ‘heavy’. It is a sobering read in all honesty. I felt close to tears multiple times.
I didn’t race through this book; when I sat down to read I did, but days would go by and I didn’t reach for it. So it was very intermittent for me. Maybe because of the global unrest it wasn’t the best book for the time. I am glad I stuck with it though.
What this book does is makes you realise the gifts we have - the gift of movement, independence, choice. To live life in the moment and to truly appreciate all you have because you never know what tomorrow will bring.
3.5 /5
November 7, 2021
I really appreciated Melanie Reid's brutal honesty in this memoir. At the age of 52, Melanie fell off her horse and broke her neck. She is now paralysed from the chest down. This memoir follows her almost full year in hospital after the fall and a little bit of time afterwards.
You can really tell that Melanie Reid is a journalist by trade. She peppers humour through her writing but is still very honest about how she was feeling throughout her journey. I would put out a massive content warning for ableism though. She's very honest about a lot of things, and one of those things is about how she viewed her body at the time. I can't even imagine how it must feel to lose all feeling below the shoulders in a second, or how I would even begin to work through these feelings. I do appreciate how honest Reid is about this, especially when she is working through her internal biases about disabled people and, at the end, how she feels now she's been working through things for a decade.
I would recommend this even though I don't think it's perfect. I do really believe that my qualms with this are all to do with my personal preference. It was really interesting for me to learn about the different treatments are available for this type of injury and to hear about the way it affects people differently. I also, again, appreciate the honesty Melanie Reid writes into this book.
You can really tell that Melanie Reid is a journalist by trade. She peppers humour through her writing but is still very honest about how she was feeling throughout her journey. I would put out a massive content warning for ableism though. She's very honest about a lot of things, and one of those things is about how she viewed her body at the time. I can't even imagine how it must feel to lose all feeling below the shoulders in a second, or how I would even begin to work through these feelings. I do appreciate how honest Reid is about this, especially when she is working through her internal biases about disabled people and, at the end, how she feels now she's been working through things for a decade.
I would recommend this even though I don't think it's perfect. I do really believe that my qualms with this are all to do with my personal preference. It was really interesting for me to learn about the different treatments are available for this type of injury and to hear about the way it affects people differently. I also, again, appreciate the honesty Melanie Reid writes into this book.
April 16, 2019
I’ve had a soft spot for Melanie Reid ever since, as a reporter on the Edinburgh Evening News, she sent me a lovely letter in response to a dreadful article I submitted, encouraging me to keep writing (and quite rightly not accepting my piece). So I was both interested and worried about reading this book - I knew it would be a fascinating read, but it is an account of something truly dreadful happening to someone I understand to be a good person. And Melanie Reid does not hold back on the details of what happens to a body when it no longer functions from, broadly speaking, the neck down. She is upfront about what it’s like to be doubly incontinent and to be unable to feel your legs, and about how lonely an experience it is when you’re lying in hospital and all you can see is the ceiling. However, while she is never anything less than honest about the colossal impact of her accident, she manages to be interesting and enlightening rather than introspective and gloomy. I learned a lot from this book, and I was reminded of just how important it is to enjoy the moment, because we never know what the next one has in store.
January 14, 2020
Actual Rating: 4.5 Stars
The World I fell out of tells the story of Melanie Reid’s journey of recovery after a horse riding accident left her paralysed from the chest down.
Although the subject matter is difficult to process at times the book itself was really easy to read. While reading this book I felt we really got to know Melanie Reid through this tough time of recovery, also hearing her narrate the audiobook herself made it even more personal.
It was a really interesting to read, and I really liked the way Melanie Reid describes her experiences. At times she is brutally honest, and at other times she tries to keep the descriptions dark but funny all at the same time.
Having a physical disability and being a wheelchair user, I was really able to relate to some of the struggles she faced.
This books really does make you think about the things you take for granted in everyday life. If you enjoy reading autobiographies/memories I highly recommend this one.
A big thank you to Laura over at Roachies Reviews for recommending this book.
The World I fell out of tells the story of Melanie Reid’s journey of recovery after a horse riding accident left her paralysed from the chest down.
Although the subject matter is difficult to process at times the book itself was really easy to read. While reading this book I felt we really got to know Melanie Reid through this tough time of recovery, also hearing her narrate the audiobook herself made it even more personal.
It was a really interesting to read, and I really liked the way Melanie Reid describes her experiences. At times she is brutally honest, and at other times she tries to keep the descriptions dark but funny all at the same time.
Having a physical disability and being a wheelchair user, I was really able to relate to some of the struggles she faced.
This books really does make you think about the things you take for granted in everyday life. If you enjoy reading autobiographies/memories I highly recommend this one.
A big thank you to Laura over at Roachies Reviews for recommending this book.
October 6, 2024
Some words seem overused in book reviews: Powerful. Profound. Poignant. Evocative. But 'The World I Fell Out Of' is a true deserver of these labels. Reid uses a rich and eloquent writing style to share her experience after a catastrophic accident left her tetraplegic, paralysed in all four limbs. She explores topics which are painful and all-too-often shunned by society, yet govern the lives of those with serious disability: the harsh reality (and inadequacy) of medical provision; the brutal journey of rehabilitation; the ugly and uncomfortable parts of disability ignored by modern-day romanticised representations. The loss of your feminity, vanity, sexuality - in fact, the loss of your status as a person. You are taken through her accident and subsequent hospitalisation, her experience adjusting to her life-changing condition, her hopes and heartbreak through the never-ending battle of recovery, rehabilitation, regression. You'll laugh and you'll cry - do so unashamedly. This is a genuine masterpiece that will entirely disrupt how you look upon disability and cause you to reconsider your own outlook on life. An exquisitely moving and intense read for all.
June 25, 2020
This is a moving account of The Times journalist, Melanie Reid, and her rehabilitation following a horse-riding accident that left her paralysed (except for her right hand). Reid describes her inner monologue as she is initially admitted to hospital, the scary prospect of facing the rest of her life in a wheelchair, and the long and painful physiotherapy sessions she endured. Within the text, Reid has supplied black and white photographs which show images as diverse as her in action show-jumping, to her broken limbs and anatomical drawings. Peppered amongst the personal and poignant reality of her situation, are some comic character descriptions of fellow patients, of her own mishaps during convalescence, and her humorous struggle with reality versus the potent effects of Tramadol.
It’s an interesting and enjoyable read. Reid’s conversational tone draws you into her turmoil allowing for the reader to sympathise fully with her. Well worth reading.
It’s an interesting and enjoyable read. Reid’s conversational tone draws you into her turmoil allowing for the reader to sympathise fully with her. Well worth reading.
Read
February 26, 2021An excellent memoir that is brutally honest about what happened, the emotional and raw reaction to it and how to carry on anyway.
This book is difficult to review as it doesn’t feel like a book. Instead it feels like an intimate conversation with the author that a star rating just cannot capture. I found parts of the book difficult particularly those set in the Glasgow hospital where I have spent time being treated for chronic illness. I think it adds a layer of connection to the story when a books setting is in your local area or somewhere you know well.
There are no motivational speeches and the memoir challenges the narrative that disabled people’s stories are valid only when they overachieve! It doesn’t feel written for anyone else except the author and therefore is real and insightful. An important memoir for disability truths.
‘Remember you know your body best, better than medical staff, tell them loud and clear what you need.’
This book is difficult to review as it doesn’t feel like a book. Instead it feels like an intimate conversation with the author that a star rating just cannot capture. I found parts of the book difficult particularly those set in the Glasgow hospital where I have spent time being treated for chronic illness. I think it adds a layer of connection to the story when a books setting is in your local area or somewhere you know well.
There are no motivational speeches and the memoir challenges the narrative that disabled people’s stories are valid only when they overachieve! It doesn’t feel written for anyone else except the author and therefore is real and insightful. An important memoir for disability truths.
‘Remember you know your body best, better than medical staff, tell them loud and clear what you need.’
February 9, 2023
I had a rubbish day last week , cut my finger , broke a dish ,had an argument with someone and was generally feeling very sorry for myself . I then started reading this book about two horrible life changing accidents to a previously healthy person , all recounted with honesty , humour , humanity and not an ounce of ‘poor me’ and yep my world looked very different . I confess I was already familiar with the author’s story and her writing through her weekly column in the Times magazine but reading her whole account as opposed to abridged versions and not least learning of her second accident brings home to me much more the sheer courage of the author and the challenges faced by her and countless others in coping with adversity .The current struggles of the NHS are brought into greater focus by the accounts of those so dependent on the health system to look after them . An essential read , one that could have been very bleak but Is saved by the author’s humour and positivity
March 14, 2019
Painfully honest account of finding a new way to live
Melanie Reid is a terrific writer and offers an account of her devastating riding accident and subsequent rebuild of both body and life that opens the reader’s eyes to more than disability. A stretched NHS, a society lacking an appreciation of the difficulties it presents and the privileges of able bodied ness, and the very particular nature of an athlete obsessed. I didn’t always like Melanie as I read this, and would have appreciated a greater acknowledgement of her advantages over those with similar devastating injuries but less blessed with educational opportunities and eloquence, but I admired her always. She really does know how special life is, and this book will inspire many to rethink what it means to be alive.
Melanie Reid is a terrific writer and offers an account of her devastating riding accident and subsequent rebuild of both body and life that opens the reader’s eyes to more than disability. A stretched NHS, a society lacking an appreciation of the difficulties it presents and the privileges of able bodied ness, and the very particular nature of an athlete obsessed. I didn’t always like Melanie as I read this, and would have appreciated a greater acknowledgement of her advantages over those with similar devastating injuries but less blessed with educational opportunities and eloquence, but I admired her always. She really does know how special life is, and this book will inspire many to rethink what it means to be alive.
March 27, 2019
I have always enjoyed reading Melanie's column in The Times magazine, so what an awful coincidence it was that in the same year we both had accidents (hers riding, mine sailing) that changed our lives for ever, though mine was in the ha'penny place compared to her becoming a wheelchair-bound tetraplegic. Her writing since then has continued to amuse me, console me, made me laugh and cry, and in this book she has been able to expand those weekly anecdotes into the story of the last nine years. She doesn't spare the readers any intimate details of what it's like to be doubly incontinent, totally dependent on strangers for the most basic of functions and how society treats the chronically ill. This is not one of those awful 'inspirational' books - plenty of despair and lots of swearing, but all the more real for that.
August 3, 2019
Five stars isn't enough for this book. I would have read it in one sitting if I didn't have work to go to. I read it in bed every evening for a week and ended up bleary-eyed every morning because I just didn't want to put it down.
Exceptionally well-written, this is an honest and fascinating insight into a world that none of us want to join. If this book doesn't make most of us stop, look around and appreciate what we have then nothing will. I had read some of Melanie's columns in the Times but only intermittently - I now want to go back and read them all so will probably subscribe to The Times for that alone. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.
Exceptionally well-written, this is an honest and fascinating insight into a world that none of us want to join. If this book doesn't make most of us stop, look around and appreciate what we have then nothing will. I had read some of Melanie's columns in the Times but only intermittently - I now want to go back and read them all so will probably subscribe to The Times for that alone. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.
November 15, 2019
This book will shake you to the core. Challenge your complacency. A powerful book giving a voice to the those forced to live in a parallel world of spinal injury. Life affirming. Darkly comic. Harrowing. Humbling. Hard to ignore the short falls of the systems of the NHS denying those with chronic conditions to continue to access support; Set against the astonishing stand out care given by (most of) the NHS staff. This book will make you appreciate every breath (or step if that accessible to you) in a new light and sheds light on depths of resilience you never knew were capable. This is the best book of 2019.
December 3, 2020
An honest account of a life
As someone who suffered severe brain damage 40yrs ago & lived with the consequences of this ever since I read Melanie's story as if it was my own. On many occasions she has used exactly the same words I said during the initial stage of my recovery - 'who is going to love me now'. This is a story of courage, strength, humour & hope that occasionally briefly touches on disrepair. But the deep, deep depression & despair that Melanie didn't choose to dwell, but I know was there increased the honesty and my admiration. Thanks for sharing this with me Melanie, have a good life, which I know you will.
As someone who suffered severe brain damage 40yrs ago & lived with the consequences of this ever since I read Melanie's story as if it was my own. On many occasions she has used exactly the same words I said during the initial stage of my recovery - 'who is going to love me now'. This is a story of courage, strength, humour & hope that occasionally briefly touches on disrepair. But the deep, deep depression & despair that Melanie didn't choose to dwell, but I know was there increased the honesty and my admiration. Thanks for sharing this with me Melanie, have a good life, which I know you will.
January 20, 2021
Read for Bookclub Jan 2021.
The good thing about joining a book club is being exposed to books you would never usually read. I like romances with HEA or thrillers heavy on the relationships. So this book is really out of my comfort zone.
It was effortless to read, very well written. Just what you would expect from a professional columnist. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about her ‘recovery’ from her horse-riding accident in 2010. And while it was harrowing at times, she covered so many insights I would never have thought about. Her journey is quite remarkable, and although her injuries were life-changing and she would never get back what she had lost, she is an inspiration to all.
The good thing about joining a book club is being exposed to books you would never usually read. I like romances with HEA or thrillers heavy on the relationships. So this book is really out of my comfort zone.
It was effortless to read, very well written. Just what you would expect from a professional columnist. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about her ‘recovery’ from her horse-riding accident in 2010. And while it was harrowing at times, she covered so many insights I would never have thought about. Her journey is quite remarkable, and although her injuries were life-changing and she would never get back what she had lost, she is an inspiration to all.
November 9, 2022
The most interesting bit for me was the psychological adapting to new circumstances and eventual prizing of what you have and enjoying the moment for itself. Some big moments eg when she grasps what a huge difference it will make whether she can transfer from one seat to another by herself. Heartening to hear she gets continuing marginal improvements which must make a big difference. Found the book a bit long, though things do continue to happen right to the end, probably seems longer because a lot of it is hard to hear.
It struck me that a lot of her experience is what everyone who becomes old goes through, she got it at one fell swoop, but it has wider application.
It struck me that a lot of her experience is what everyone who becomes old goes through, she got it at one fell swoop, but it has wider application.
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