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"I Am I Am I Am is a gripping and glorious investigation of death that leaves the reader feeling breathless, grateful, and fully alive. Maggie O'Farrell is a miracle in every sense. I will never forget this book." --Ann Patchett An extraordinary memoir--told entirely in near-death experiences--from one of Britain's best-selling novelists, for fans of Wild, When Breath Becomes Air, and The Year of Magical Thinking. We are never closer to life than when we brush up against the possibility of death. I Am, I Am, I Am is Maggie O'Farrell's astonishing memoir of the near-death experiences that have punctuated and defined her life. The childhood illness that left her bedridden for a year, which she was not expected to survive. A teenage yearning to escape that nearly ended in disaster. An encounter with a disturbed man on a remote path. And, most terrifying of all, an ongoing, daily struggle to protect her daughter--for whom this book was written--from a condition that leaves her unimaginably vulnerable to life's myriad dangers. Seventeen discrete encounters with Maggie at different ages, in different locations, reveal a whole life in a series of tense, visceral snapshots. In taut prose that vibrates with electricity and restrained emotion, O'Farrell captures the perils running just beneath the surface, and illuminates the preciousness, beauty, and mysteries of life itself.… (més)
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I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am. Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Dedicatòria
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for my children
Primeres paraules
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On the path ahead, stepping out from behind a boulder, a man appears.
Citacions
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It is a story to be kept battened down in some wordless, unvisited dark place. Death brushed past me on that path, so close that I could feel its touch, but it seized that other girl and thrust her under. (p. 21)
The world was suddenly still; nothing was being required of me; I could stand in the quiet of my own skin. (p. 40)
I tread the carpet along the rows of Fiction A-Z and think: I can read whatever I want. The realisation arrives like a gale lashing past me, almost making be stagger. (p. 60)
His hand is infinitely gentle but firm and sure. There is no way he is letting go, he is telling me, entirely without words. (p. 91)
I lift my head. I'm back, on the beach, in India, in knee-deep water, between sky and sea, in the life I thought I'd left -- and barely any time has elapsed at all. I feel as though I've slipped through a fissure, like a person kidnapped by fairies, as if I've been away for years and returned to find that everything stood still. (p. 124)
Tea-making is a sacred, circumscribed ritual in this house. I would never presume to undertake it, would never encroach on this most delicate of tasks. (p. 141)
I need to start my life: I need to find a path for myself, to find a job that sets me on the right course or, in fact, any course at all. (p. 163)
Quite a skill, this: the tessilation of two body part, the docking of jaw with breast. (p. 188)
If these neuron cells fail to communicate, if the electrical currents between axon and dendrite stop working, if the synapses don't conduct, for whatever reason -- injury, illness, age, a stroke, a virus -- your body does nothing. It falls silent, it comes to a stop, like a clockwork toy that has wound down. (p. 217)
Convalensence is a strange, removed state. Hours, days, whole weeks can slide by without your participation. You, as the convalescent, are swaddled in quiet and immobility. You are the only still thing in the house, caught in stasis, a fly in amber. (p. 227)
Holding my child, I realized my vulnerability to death: I was frightened of it, for the first time. I knew all too well how fine a membrane separates us from that place, and how easily it can be perforated. (p. 240)
In moments like these, your thinking shrinks, sharpens, narrows. The world shutters up and you are reduced to a crystalline pinpoint a single purpose: to keep your child alive, to ensnare her in the world of the living, to hang on to her and never let go. (p. 252)
In any fairy-tale, getting what you wish for, comes at a cost. There is always a codicil, an addendum to the granting of a wish. (p. 265)
Darreres paraules
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
"I Am I Am I Am is a gripping and glorious investigation of death that leaves the reader feeling breathless, grateful, and fully alive. Maggie O'Farrell is a miracle in every sense. I will never forget this book." --Ann Patchett An extraordinary memoir--told entirely in near-death experiences--from one of Britain's best-selling novelists, for fans of Wild, When Breath Becomes Air, and The Year of Magical Thinking. We are never closer to life than when we brush up against the possibility of death. I Am, I Am, I Am is Maggie O'Farrell's astonishing memoir of the near-death experiences that have punctuated and defined her life. The childhood illness that left her bedridden for a year, which she was not expected to survive. A teenage yearning to escape that nearly ended in disaster. An encounter with a disturbed man on a remote path. And, most terrifying of all, an ongoing, daily struggle to protect her daughter--for whom this book was written--from a condition that leaves her unimaginably vulnerable to life's myriad dangers. Seventeen discrete encounters with Maggie at different ages, in different locations, reveal a whole life in a series of tense, visceral snapshots. In taut prose that vibrates with electricity and restrained emotion, O'Farrell captures the perils running just beneath the surface, and illuminates the preciousness, beauty, and mysteries of life itself.
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