Flesh & Blood

“I drive and think to myself, if I am dying, if this is how I die, then this is how I die. ” When N. West Moss finds herself bleeding uncontrollably in the middle of a writing class, she drives herself to the hospital, rather than bother anyone about an ambulance. Because she is a writer, she can’t help her next thoughts: “The word ‘exsanguinate’ comes bubbling up into my mind as I drive. Perhaps I am exsanguinating. Bleeding out. It’s a magnificent word, exsanguinate. Exsanguination. Latin, probably. Worth a zillion points in Scrabble. ” For a while, doctors cannot figure out exactly what is wrong with Moss, but eventually surgery is determined to be the answer, a hysterectomy. We follow Moss through her surgery and recovery, as her thoughts turn naturally to her previous struggles with infertility—but what makes her such an engaging narrator is that even when she is low and on bedrest her curiosity is limitless. Among her interests: social insects, yellow fever, good cocktails, the history of New Orleans, and always the natural world, including the praying mantis in her sunroom whom she names Claude. When she is finally able to walk a bit, we meet the delightful monks who live up the road from her. And we learn about the line of women in Moss’s family, her deep connections to her mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. Moss discovers that there are other ways besides children to leave a legacy and there is joy in living day to day. And she learns that grief is not a stopping place but a companion that travels along with us through everything, even happiness. Flesh and Blood will resonate with the millions of women who have dealt with miscarriages and infertility and with everyone who loves a beautifully told story by a quirky and poetic observer of this dramatic and glorious world.