An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir

McCracken, Elizabeth. An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir. New York: Littleton, Brown. 2008. Print

First Sentences:

Once upon a time, before I knew anything about the subject, a woman told me I should write a book about the lighter side of losing a child.

(This is not that book.)

Description:

Discovering a new author can lead you to topics well outside your usual preferences as you glom onto every book which that author has written. You follow serendipitous pathways from one subject to another just to keep reading the words of a quality writer. Subject matter, to me, is always secondary to writing style and characters. If an author you enjoy writes it, you will come (and read it). 

Such an experience is now happening to me with Elizabeth McCracken, my newest favorite writer. After being fascinated by her book, The Giant's House, I have been reading everything else she has written (Niagara Falls All Over Again; Thunderstruck; Here's Your Hat, What's Your Hurry). 

Now I have completed An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination: A Memoir, about a topic I probably would not have explored except that McCracken had written about it. The subject? The stillbirth death of her first child, along with the events leading to that day and the recovery she and her husband undergo, culminating with the successful birth of her second child one year later.

The title gave me no hint as to its subject, although the intricate, confusing linkage of these words was intriguing to me, an unsuspecting reader. As any great writer does, she provides information in her first sentences to separate the sheep from the goat readers who are uncertain whether to continue reading. She seems to say, "This book is about the death of my baby, so keep reading or move on." For me, I was all in based on these in-your-face initial sentences and McCracken's previous triumphs in books. 

She engagingly details the intimate and sometimes funny story of her early single years, her love for her husband, and their life in an ancient French farmhouse.  McCracken and her husband, both authors, are living in rural France during her pregnancy and the delivery. During her pregnancy, they refer to their expected child "Pudding," originally a joke but it sticks and actually becomes the name they choose for the death certificate and coffin. McCracken's writes openly about her normal pregnancy full of joy, expectations, worries and hopes common to expectant parents ... right up to the moment when she learns her child is dead inside her, and she "stepped over the border from happy pregnancy to grief."

During an examination shortly before her due date, no heart beat could be heard inside the womb. Her thoughts at that moment are numbing, especially when she realizes she will still have to go through the delivery, knowing the result will be a dead baby. I cannot relate to you the kind of sadness she describes so clearly, so honestly, and so achingly final.

The memoir jumps back and forth between her life before, during, and after Pudding's death, including her second successful pregnancy. Because she foreshadows the stillborn delivery in the first sentences, she has no need to hide that event which permeates every memory. McCracken writes of incidents with her thoughts felt at those moments, as well as with the emotions she now has as she looks back with new irony and understanding. And such emotion she reveals to us:

The first thing we did back at Savary [their French farmhouse] was dismantle the future....Edward broke down the portable crib...I threw out all my maternity clothes...tossed out stuffed hippopotamus and any other toylike object....but not the baby clothes.

Who can separate practicality from hope from lingering superstition? We wanted another child. We wanted to fill those clothes.  

The anticipated autopsy report provides a new concern for McCracken. 

All summer long we'd waited for the autopsy results. I wanted to read them and I didn't want to read them. I was terrified that the verdict would say, essentially, Cause of death: maternal oblivion.... [The conclusion actually was] chorioamniotitis, with no known histological cause.

The book also provides an insightful look at the power words and actions have on someone who has experienced a calamity. Well-meaning people inquire about McCracken's baby and she finds explanations the hardest thing to do. She feels she needs a card similar to those passed out by deaf people asking for money.

When Pudding died, I wanted my stack [of cards]. My first child was stillborn, it would say on the front....I want people to know but I don't want to say it aloud. People don't like to hear it but I think they might not mind reading it on a card.... [I could give it to] every single person who noticed I was pregnant the second time, and said "Congratulations! It this your first?"

She notes that people can have a positive impact as well. As a cancer survivor I found I could identify with the power friends and family can have during one's struggle to deal with unexpected and overpoweringly sad circumstances.

Before Pudding died, I'd thought condolence notes were simply small bits of old-fashioned etiquette, important but universally acknowledged as inadequate gestures. Now they felt like oxygen, and only now do I fully understand why: to know that other people were sad made Pudding more real.

There is some unexpected humor as well. After hearing of the dead baby inside her, she is asked by a nurse, in French, whether they want "une nonne" (a nun). Her husband hears "Un nain" (a dwarf), so they later laugh at the concept that French hospitals have "Dwarfs of Grief" to comfort those who suffer a tragedy.

So how does a reader like me who enjoys Lee Child bloody thrillers, memoirs about prisons, humorous crime capers, sports histories, space exploration, and Tolkien get helplessly mixed up with a memoir of such sadness as the loss of a child? It's simple. McCracken is a highly skilled writer who can really tell a story with feeling and honesty, with personality and even self-deprecating humor. An Exact Replica has all my elements for a quality read: great writing, interesting characters, and a compelling story. I was led to this book because I simply wanted to read more by McCracken, but then found myself thoroughly engrossed and even able to relate to her descriptions of a world of hospitals, people, and sorrow.

McCracken recalls a sentence that keeps going through her mind: "This is the happiest story in the world with the saddest ending." I think these words perfectly describe this book. This memoir is not simply a terrible tragedy; it is story of a happy, normal woman encountering a harsh reality, painstakingly recording her thoughts, and then trying to move forward. You cannot simply "read" this book impassively; you are totally absorbed into her mind and actions, experiencing along side her every hope and trial. It is a powerful read about tragedy and hope.


Happy reading. 

Fred

www.firstsentencereader.blogspot.com

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If this book interests you, be sure to check out:

McCracken, Elizabeth. The Giant's House: A Romance

A fiercely independent, crotchety librarian takes a special interest in a young boy who is remarkably curious about information, books, and discussions. And he is a giant, growing to over 8' tall by age 18. (previously reviewed here)

Hitchens, Christopher. Mortality.

One man's personal thoughts on his battle with cancer. Very compelling reading to help readers understand what someone with this disease is feeling regarding his illness, how friends interact with him, care from his doctors, and his plans.

Diamond, John. Because Cowards Get Cancer Too: A Hypochondriac Confronts His Nemesis.

Thoughtful, personal, and humorous account of John Diamond's long struggle with cancer as originally told through his column in the Times of London. Highly recommended along with the Hitchens' book for anyone who wants to know what having cancer is like. His words ring true to me as a fellow cancer patient. (previously reviewed here)

Halpern, Susan. The Etiquette of Illness: What to Say When You Can't Find the Words.

Excellent suggestions and practical applications for talking (or not talking) to people with illness: how to say what you want without causing offense or embarrassment, what they want you to say, when to just remain silent. Very valuable examples and advice for well-intentioned friends and family of patients of all ages and illnesses.