An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination is a memoir about having a stillborn baby, and it improbably opens with a hilarious misunderstanding, in a French hospital since the parents lived there at the time, of why one may want to speak with a dwarf after suffering such a loss. Ah, the perils of foreign languages.
The rest of the book is much more serious and sadder than the first chapter, but it retains a sense of humor throughout the ordeal. I found it to be a moving description of how hard it is to lose someone unknown, and how our customs fail to include this loss into any kind of ritual or shared memory. It’s a shame.
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January 9, 2009 at 4:37 pm
[...] Suicide Index by Joan Wickersham Jump to Comments Like An Exact Replica of a Figment of my Imagination (which talks about losing a baby), The Suicide Indexdiscusses a taboo topic, death by suicide, in a [...]
February 13, 2009 at 8:47 am
[...] to note that France has an extremely low rate of stillbirths contrary to one might think from the books I’ve been reading.) The son’s wife walks around with her dead baby and refuses to bury [...]