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gnarltooth's review against another edition
4.0
cried many times to this one. found a lot of the chapters extremely useful and necessary for me, and a couple of the chapters less relevant for my situation. a good balance of truth, grief, humor, stream-of-consciousness, and telepathic hand-holding.
amber_faith_27's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
2.0
tempestbeauty's review against another edition
5.0
“Notes for the Everlost - field guide to grief” speaks beautifully of the true nature of grief. The pain, the passage, the fallout of loss. You journey with Kate as she recounts the losing of her own son, and the days, weeks, months and years that follow his death.
Kate Inglis is a truth speaker, whose brilliant prose and descriptive imagery happen to make her feel more like a companion in grief than merely a guide.
Not only does she manage to make one feel less alone in their pain, she accurately conveys a reality in which grief may not have to last forever, as it is currently known. Somehow, she writes that to be survivable too.
I am also of the belief that this book would help someone who has not experienced grief and loss to understand what that experience may be like, in order for them to more closely identify with the grief of another.
I cannot possibly recommend this book higher, and I cannot wait to pass it on to another in grief. I am thankful it was written.
Kate Inglis is a truth speaker, whose brilliant prose and descriptive imagery happen to make her feel more like a companion in grief than merely a guide.
Not only does she manage to make one feel less alone in their pain, she accurately conveys a reality in which grief may not have to last forever, as it is currently known. Somehow, she writes that to be survivable too.
I am also of the belief that this book would help someone who has not experienced grief and loss to understand what that experience may be like, in order for them to more closely identify with the grief of another.
I cannot possibly recommend this book higher, and I cannot wait to pass it on to another in grief. I am thankful it was written.
sarahaf712's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
sad
medium-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child death, Death, Grief, Medical content, and Medical trauma
Moderate: Infertility, Miscarriage, and Pregnancy
Cw: Infant loss; neonatal intensive carelisapn's review against another edition
5.0
I picked this book up a few days ago at the bookshop that I work at. I didn’t know anything about this book at all. It is a stunning account of grief and loss and living and loving. The copy I have is full of highlights and notes in the margins. I haven’t experienced what Kate Inglis has but I have been through different sorts of grief and I wish I could gift every person I know this beautiful and painful and essential book.
vm_henson's review against another edition
5.0
Notes for the Everlost is beautiful and honest. It is the perfect book to read when you or someone you love is faced with heartbreaking loss and words feel wholly inadequate. Through the lens of her own grief, Kate Inglis offers compassion, encouragement, and hard-won advice for readers navigating this treacherous terrain. Find a kindred soul in the pages of this book—you are not alone. As Inglis writes, “Grief is necessary, honorable, and healthy. Ordinary will find you again when you’re ready.”
jenniferavignon's review against another edition
4.0
Reading this book was like drinking fortified wine. It was heavy and sweet and bitter and swirled in my head long after i put it down. And i put it down often, consuming it in slow sips.
Reminiscent of C. S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed", Kate Inglis' chronicle of her own loss is part stream-of-consciousness, part reflection on the wisdom of other writers, and part looking back at her trauma from a place of healing. You see anger, sorrow, fear, self-doubt, numbness, all intermingled with hope and joy and bound roughly with sturdy love, like twine wrapped around a child's bunch of wildflowers. It's messy and untamed and doesn't belong in your house, but somehow fits beautifully in your antique vase.
I've been a long-time reader of Kate's blog, but seeing the story of her sons' traumatic birth, and one of their deaths, all in one volume made it cleaner and tighter. It hits more directly now.
Recommended for parents who have lost kids, but perhaps even more for their friends, to help those of us untouched by that kind of grief to understand a bit of their pain (and to show us what not to say to them).
Reminiscent of C. S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed", Kate Inglis' chronicle of her own loss is part stream-of-consciousness, part reflection on the wisdom of other writers, and part looking back at her trauma from a place of healing. You see anger, sorrow, fear, self-doubt, numbness, all intermingled with hope and joy and bound roughly with sturdy love, like twine wrapped around a child's bunch of wildflowers. It's messy and untamed and doesn't belong in your house, but somehow fits beautifully in your antique vase.
I've been a long-time reader of Kate's blog, but seeing the story of her sons' traumatic birth, and one of their deaths, all in one volume made it cleaner and tighter. It hits more directly now.
Recommended for parents who have lost kids, but perhaps even more for their friends, to help those of us untouched by that kind of grief to understand a bit of their pain (and to show us what not to say to them).
kerrianne's review
5.0
I was lucky enough to be one of the early readers for this incredibly moving memoir-of-sorts, written by a true talent and wonderful human I've been doubly lucky to "know" via the Interwebs for many years. Having been fortunate enough to read Kate's words in various places online and in print for over a decade, I already knew her writing would speak to me, as it's done so many times before. She and her stories—her soul-affirming empathy and honesty—have always been a gift, and something I've perpetually connected with; this beautiful book is certainly no exception to that truth.
Wholly unintentionally, but quite aptly, I started reading this book on April 5 (my dad's birthday), and planned to finish it by April 15th (the day he died when I was about to turn 13). This book had other plans for me, though, and I know it's not coincidence. So often in my life I've felt a book has found me, or I've found it, at precisely the right time. That I've started and finished books exactly when I was meant to. It took me two months to read this book, and another two months to sit with exactly what I wanted to say about it, because that's how potent and powerful it is.
Attempting to synthesize any book into a handful of lines is mostly an effort in madness; attempting to synthesize a book like this especially so.
This book is about grief, yes—about the costumes it dons, the way it holds on, how it can fill a room so full you can touch it while it steals the breath from your chest. How it can send you into a fit of laughter one moment and inconsolable laments the next.
It's so much truth about how certain types of grief will never be truly gone, and instead must be carried as we reluctantly move on: Gently, fearlessly, patiently, collectively.
It's about all of that, and so much more.
While I was reading I covered Kate's pages in words of my own, writing notes to myself, to Kate, to my dad, my grandfather, my grandmother, my aunt Anne who died just over a year before her brother/my father did, the woman everyone tells me I look and sound so much like.
This book arrived exactly when I needed it most, and unearthed something important and vocal in me that had been sleeping, and for that I will always be so grateful.
[Five stars for truth and beauty, for madness and relief, and because humans will never stop needing books like this.]
Wholly unintentionally, but quite aptly, I started reading this book on April 5 (my dad's birthday), and planned to finish it by April 15th (the day he died when I was about to turn 13). This book had other plans for me, though, and I know it's not coincidence. So often in my life I've felt a book has found me, or I've found it, at precisely the right time. That I've started and finished books exactly when I was meant to. It took me two months to read this book, and another two months to sit with exactly what I wanted to say about it, because that's how potent and powerful it is.
Attempting to synthesize any book into a handful of lines is mostly an effort in madness; attempting to synthesize a book like this especially so.
This book is about grief, yes—about the costumes it dons, the way it holds on, how it can fill a room so full you can touch it while it steals the breath from your chest. How it can send you into a fit of laughter one moment and inconsolable laments the next.
It's so much truth about how certain types of grief will never be truly gone, and instead must be carried as we reluctantly move on: Gently, fearlessly, patiently, collectively.
It's about all of that, and so much more.
While I was reading I covered Kate's pages in words of my own, writing notes to myself, to Kate, to my dad, my grandfather, my grandmother, my aunt Anne who died just over a year before her brother/my father did, the woman everyone tells me I look and sound so much like.
This book arrived exactly when I needed it most, and unearthed something important and vocal in me that had been sleeping, and for that I will always be so grateful.
[Five stars for truth and beauty, for madness and relief, and because humans will never stop needing books like this.]
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