A breathtaking, indispensable collection featuring poetry, fiction, letters, and diaries of the world’s greatest writers on the nature of grief.
Death silences not only those it takes, but those it leaves All too typically we can neither express our grief nor express sympathy for the bereaved. In this sensitive collection, loss finds a voice—or several voices—in the poetry, fiction, letters, and diaries of the world's great writers. Here are James Agee, recording the shock of his father's death; William Shakespeare, making poetry of Cleopatra's grief; the Biblical wisdom of The Book of Lamentations; the psychological acuity of Marcel Proust. Here are mourners from classical Rome to eleventh-century China, from the Paiute Indians to present-day Ireland. Arranged in sections that correspond to the stages of mourning, In the Midst of Winter is a volume whose breadth and resonance make it invaluable and utterly unique.
The author lost a spouse and decided to create an anthology of some of the literature she looked at--essays, poems, short stories--on the various stages of mourning. As she states in her preface, her selections can be read in any order. She tries to group them by theme. Her selections go all the way back to ancient China, Japan and Greece. People have been mourning for a long, long time. We don't always mourn the loss of a loved one, of course. We mourn the passing of years, of loss of childhood scenes, of memories, of friendships, of workplace associations, of mentors, of communities we once knew, of faith. So much of what makes us human--the desire for novelty, for escape, for freshness--works against our own accompanying desire for consistency, for continuity, for security, for holding on to the moment for just a little longer. We wish the stream would stop, but it just keeps on flowing. If it did stop, the life-giving renewal it provides would stop as well. We all want to move on, but grief reminds us to take stock of what we have lost, and what we we have experienced before it, or the person, was taken from us. We have to value others, value their many tangible and intangible qualities, in order to have a sense of what our own value is to others. We cannot close our hearts to pity. Numbness is not an enviable condition. It merely blinkers our own receptivity, and may actually hasten our own destruction, because it also closes us off to danger signals. If we cannot feel, we deny our humanity.
I love this book. It is a collection of writings from a large variety of sources on the subjects of death, dying, and mourning. What makes this book different than just a mere collection of other people's work has to do with the way in which the subjects are arranged and the sensitivity with which the works were selected. Are you wanting to share in the experience of shock at someones death? Or perhaps revel in the memory of the lost? Loss of a child? Widowed? Do you want something to speak to your grief or share perspectives on coping? Or maybe something of the transcendent and what might come after death. All of these, and more, are arranged to target the readers specific need at a specific moment. For those who have experienced loss, as we all either have or will, this book provides a great resource for sharing in the thoughts of those that have experienced the same. I found this book to be a great source of comfort.
This amazing collection drawn from the classics to contemporary writing attempts to express the inexpressible feelings of grief. Selections of poetry and prose are arranged in sections that acknowledge the complex waves of emotion experienced by the bereaved and are correlated with the seasons. The editor briefly introduces each section. There is not a focus on 1 specific type of loss, which makes this book universal.