Yet, ultimately, “An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination” is sad, at times even tear-inducing, since McCracken offers an unstinting. I was sitting at a table, having signed three books, one for a cheerful old lady who ‘d called my short stories pointless during the Q & A. Al’s wife. Review: An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCrackenA mother’s tender remembrance of her stillborn baby moves.
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Oct 15, Shonell Bacon rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: I could tigment relate to the aftermath, to the never being sure of anything, to the future being an “if” not a “when”. For instance, the author and her husband chose not to take a picture of their deceased infant son because they were afraid that they would fetishize replca.
I picked it up in a book store yesterday and finished it last night at 3 AM with the same hideous, gossipy impulses that cause anyone who hasn’t suffered much lately to be interested in the pain of others. Figmet could not agree more So much of what McCracken says in this book fills my heart with hope and beauty. How do I tell people, do I tell people, of the missing child? Want to Read Currently Reading Read.
Until March 27th, McCracken and her husband, a fellow writer and professor, had sojourned in Berlin, Ireland and England before settling into a ramshackle farmhouse in the Bordeaux region of France to await the birth of their first child. I still think back to the positive surge of emotion from this book and am thankful I found it. It was written in — what, a few weeks? I was a mama to one, and pregnant with our second.
I wept for a friend who lost a baby not long after I had my own. I too had lost a baby, three, in fact, and when McCracken called my wish for pictures a “fetish” and seemed to suggest I was wrong or strange for wanting footprints and memory boxes and any sort of artifact, I just couldn’t read on.
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken
A baby is stillborn,” and then adds that a healthy baby is born in this book, too. It was a fun class, some days less than others. Then I listened to it again. But it is better than those, because this is real.
It’s a happy life–” It is also one of the happiest books I’ve ever read about losing a baby.
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken – PopMatters
I was happy, as happy as I’ve ever been, imaination the nine months in which Lorenzo lived inside my belly. Maybe my grief is still too new? Patchett then mailed McCracken and her husband, the writer Jonathan Edward Carey Harvey, known as Edward, boxes of videos to watch as they migrated from their temporary home in France back to the States.
Rfplica are many passages in this book that broke my heart all over again but somehow helped it heal. I felt replca I was tiptoeing through the pages of Elizabeth McCracken’s journal and I was constantly rummaging through my bedside drawer for a pen so that I could mark some of her wrenching insights into her figmenh journey through grief.
Those programs where veterans or prisoners or homeless people are encouraged to write fiction or poetry serve a useful function, I think. I saw the positive press reviews, but forgot about this book until my fiance’ bought it for me on my kindle. There’s hope, and love and triumph among the many layers that comprise the death of her first child, a baby boy.
There’s no question figkent McCracken is a rare gem, in the literary world and beyond. The thing I found him always having to explain is that these people who die as grandparents have long, happy lives behind them. Accordingly, this book is less about catharsis than remembrance.
A poignant matter of life and death
To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. What Elizabeth McCracken does so wonderfully in her memoir “An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination” is unflinchingly real and will break your heart and make you ijagination all in one breath. Aug 09, Jimena rated it really liked it Shelves: I will go further: I think I was just hoping for more of a sense of someone else getting it.
It is a thoughtful, carefully constructed narrative, relica love letter to her husband, i,agination the card she wished she’d been able to hand to everyone who inquired and still inquires brightly “How are things with you? It’s not just the painful story of her baby’s death; it’s also the true, minute details of thought, of feeling, of reaction that most people don’t talk about.