Gargoyles

by Harriet Mercer

Poetic memoirs and essays around grief, loss, illness and love.

Genres: Nonfiction, Disability, Poetry, Memoir, Essays

304 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 2021

Reviews

[Sophy H · Rating 5 out of 5]

*Re-read March 2023: What she said ⬇️!

Original review: You know sometimes when you just know you're going to love a book before you've even read it, this book was it!

Harriet Mercer does an excellent job of sharing her experience of sudden acute, life threatening illness, a critical care stay and her subsequent long road to recovery. The book however deals with so much more. There are purposeful and mindful tangents exploring every aspect of life, death, and the human experience. Harriet discusses literature, documentaries, nature, memory and reality, a whole gamut of subjects covered in a very sensitive and thoughtful manner.

My main interest in this book stemmed from my time spent as a critical care nurse, when I often wondered what happened to patients on the other side of recovery, and if they could remember much of their stay. Harriet Mercer took me on the best journey of understanding and it was much appreciated.

Inspired, intelligent, fantastic writing.

[Angela]

I can't even express how much I loved this. I bought it on a whim — not really knowing much about it — and holy shit, what a lovely surprise.

[Contrary Reader · Rating 5 out of 5]

Gargoyles is an exorcism. A slayer of traumatic medical experiences. But it is so much more. It grit-eyed, pain-filled and sleepless-nights allow us to move beyond such unimaginable suffering and to understand what it is to be in crisis. Harriet writes with really beauty and allows us all a window into her darkest spaces to see how light creeps in and people heal

[Lucy Nield · Rating 5 out of 5]

Grief, Guilt and Gargoyles

Book 81

#Gargoyles by @this_still_leaf

'He made me think of home - perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition' (Baldwin, giovannis room)

Harriet, protagonist / author, is unwell and spends about 6 weeks in hospital. Whilst she suffers, struggles and strives to get better and return home to her dog.. she is haunted by her past, which sounds so typical right? Something awful must have happened... but as you read, the pain and loss that Harriet has experienced reflect general life itself. The narrative is not what you would call exhilarating or thrilling, because it is so much more than that. It is a reflection of life, and the Absurdism and mundanity we often endure. As well as the extremities some might suffer. (As a nonfiction narrative this should be expected)

Poetic Memoir, is a genre that I rarely come across, the perfect cocktail of real-life-style narrative and academic writing, a text that is not necessarily about the narrative itself, but rather about what the narrative represents, symbolises and forces you to think about. Similar to Ali Smiths 'Autumn,' Mercer forces you to acknowledge regret and grief, love and loss, and consider your own life, in a way you may not usually choose to frame it.

"A scar is a timeliness, beginning with the event that caused the wound, and ending with completion of the physical healing process"

Addressing not only physical healing and moving forward, but the internal irreparable damage life has on you, either physically or emotionally.

I connected with this text on so many unexpected levels, and I really recommend it. Whilst some texts help you face your demons, Mercer helps you look into the eyes of the Gargoyles.

@deadinkbooks

[Simon Veksner · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved it. Gargoyles is primarily an 'illness memoir', and will appeal strongly to anyone who has gone a few rounds with disease. (Some of the passages set in an NHS hospital had me flashing back repeatedly to the 9 1/2 weeks I spent in one myself). But it's a lot more than that. It's a beautifully written 'general' memoir too, chock full of lyrical reflections on life and love. And it's unflinching - some of the chapters must have taken huge courage to write. The depiction of Harriet's relationship with her father is especially poignant and will resonate with many women (and men) I'm sure. Hats off to you, Harriet.

[Amina Memon · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautifully written narrative of a near death experience resulting from a serious health condition that was caught early, treated but results in a life changing experience post a long period of hospitalisation. A vivid depiction of trauma from a writer of great talent, there was a real richness & depth here in the descriptions of the capsule in which the author found herself and of the people around her who helped her confront those gargoyles head on & see the world with a new lens. A delightful read despite the subject matter.

[Juliano · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Pain is the protagonist of many illnesses. And once in the stranglehold of acute pain, the kind that blots out everything else, it is pretty much impossible to articulate its nature. Although I was inwardly dissecting my discomfort when collapsed on the bathroom floor, it’s true to say that in the moment of crisis I was unable to verbalise my thoughts.” All at once the body fails — that is how Harriet Mercer’s Gargoyles begins, as a sudden rare, life-threatening illness transports her into a shadow-life of hospitals and dependence and visions of gargoyles living behind her eyelids. Accompanying biographical accounts of her time in recovery are essays in which Mercer expounds on various conditions of life which become accelerated or magnified under illness. “Considering my yearning to have children, I was profligate with time. I stuck with a love for twelve years, convinced that I would change his mind about commitment and babies. Such woeful arrogance, on my part. It was a wonderful, enriching relationship in many other respects; it just took me down a path […] in the opposite direction of that particular dream.” I liked Mercer’s writing on pain, trauma, and fear: “Fear on Saturday morning: Fear is summoning the strength to wash. Fear is black spots in front of my eyes as I struggle to lean forward. Fear is almost passing out as a nurse helps me move to the blue chair next to my bed. […] Fear is indignity. Fear is feeling that I'm taking backward steps. Fear is realising that I haven't eaten anything more solid than a pineapple chunk for three weeks. Fear is being properly scared by this weakness for the first time, worrying whether this is it.”

[Ivan Pope · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read this partly due to the title which overlaps with my current writing thinking. Wasn't over impressed though its enjoyable enough.

[Caitlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

moving meditation on traumatic health crises and hospital stays

[Sabrina Vieira · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25