balithebookworm's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
mimiecherry's review against another edition
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
leoniepeonie's review against another edition
5.0
So so so so beautifully written. Matter of fact in the best of ways, and captured emotion so skilfully and artfully. It was just an exquisite collection full of POWER and feeling and truth. Yeeeeees.
almalinden's review against another edition
2.0
Det är lite svårt att förklara varför jag tyckte om Emilie Pine så mycket men inte alls denna essäsamlingen. Som man vet om mig tycker jag ju ofta inte om inre monologer, och det är därför jag ofta inte tycker om essäer. Så är det nog med denna. Men jag tror också det är för att boken varken tillför något till min feminism eller (för mig åtminstone) gör något anspråk på det som är personligt och politiskt — och därmed gemensamt. Sen känns det som att författarens språk och stil försöker kompensera för att essäerna ofta i grunden handlar om samma sak, om författarens sjukdom(ar) och kropp, och blir repetitiva.
stilljennifer's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars rounded down. This started odd strong, had a serious lull around the midway point, then picks up again. There’s a lot I loved about much of this and about Gleeson’s style and a bit I was bored stiff by. Glad I read it but not something I’ll remember.
serenalawless's review against another edition
5.0
As a fan of essay collections, this did not disappoint. Unlike the others, I think this one hit me at a deeper level. I have not cried this much reading a book in a long time. Gleeson's writing is not overwrought or overly sentimental, but razor sharp, clean, and to the point - and yet, it is full of emotion. It's a life in a book, a life that has been touched by death and pain, loss and illness. It is a book of strength too, and particularly the last entry, 'A Non-Letter to my Daughter,' will resonate with women everywhere. For me, the most powerful essays were 'Our Mutual Friend,' and 'Second Mother,' as I found myself and my experiences reflected back at me. But really, they're all gold - there is no essay in this collection that feels like padding, like it's out of place. They're all strong. And they all belong.
betweenbookends's review against another edition
4.0
Sinéad Gleeson’s Constellation, Reflections from Life is a profoundly moving, lyrical nuanced look at the intersection of the human body, mortality, motherhood, mysticism, feminism and art. While it’s been presented as an essay collection, it works incredibly well as a cohesive whole even if the topics it tackles are varied. The collection opens with experiences drawn from Gleeson’s own life. She has a very complicated medical history with a rare bone condition that led to multiple invasive surgeries in her life from when she was very young. And so, she’s all the more aware of her body as this battered vessel that she tenderly and lovingly cares for. The challenging pregnancies that she faces with a warrior’s fortitude, the need and sheer will to pull her body through is incredibly heartfelt and moving. In later essays, she speaks of women in the past who have gone seeking adventure in a male-dominated world, of women who’ve resorted to art as a medium to describe the pain they’re going through, of women who’ve challenged norms, redefined roles that have made today’s society more equal for men and women.
The essays are so nimbly written. There’s almost this balletic grace to her writing, that is so fluid, so seamless and poetic. This book reminded me of another title I had read earlier this year, The Shapeless Unease by Samatha Harvey where she muses on various topics through a year of chronic insomnia. I think Constellations is a tad more readable and so it’s probably the one I’d recommend more easily, but Harvey’s The Shapeless Unease spoke to me personally and more deeply. Nonetheless, if you’ve been on the fence about this one or thought it might be a tad pretentious. It really isn’t. It’s clear-eyed, resonant, powerful and demands to be read.
4.25/5
The essays are so nimbly written. There’s almost this balletic grace to her writing, that is so fluid, so seamless and poetic. This book reminded me of another title I had read earlier this year, The Shapeless Unease by Samatha Harvey where she muses on various topics through a year of chronic insomnia. I think Constellations is a tad more readable and so it’s probably the one I’d recommend more easily, but Harvey’s The Shapeless Unease spoke to me personally and more deeply. Nonetheless, if you’ve been on the fence about this one or thought it might be a tad pretentious. It really isn’t. It’s clear-eyed, resonant, powerful and demands to be read.
4.25/5
marthaos's review against another edition
4.0
I knew I’d like this book from the outset. Any piece I’ve read by Sinead Gleeson or anytime I’ve heard her in conversation is astute, smart and incisive. The premise of the book also appealed to me...a series of essays, many of which are based on the author’s experience of illness, subjective enough to be personal, real and raw, objective enough to be a comment on society and the many systems we depend on in times of crisis and need, how they fail and support us.
Gleeson has a very powerful way with language, of drawing us into her story, so that we feel we are there with her through all the events described, the braces and casts put on, and cut off, to support her hips, the unrelenting pain experienced since early childhood, the condescension of most in the medical system whom she encountered; the numbing shock and pain described in the essay entitled “Our Mutual Friend” as well as the nose-to-nose confrontation with mortality; the pains of childbirth and the beautiful honesty about the vulnerability of being a new mother; the scene of death of her dear “second mother” so vividly described in the last chapter, right down to the smell in the room, the quiet stagnancy of the final wait. In each of the essays, Gleeson knowledge of medical terminology is apparent, but rather than being overwhelmingly scientific, she plays with these words to create a sort of poetry. She does this to even greater degree in her essay/poem on some of her most intense experiences of pain, which she structures like the McGill Pain Index. And she shows the expanse of her capability with language when she writes a letter in the form of a poem (“non-letter”) to her daughter.
She also comments on other artists who used art to articulate and communicate their experience of illness. Frida Kahlo, Lucy Grealy and Jo Spense were all such women, and their stories greatly impacted on Gleeson during her times of illness, allowing her not to feel so alone, but also to see the human body in new ways, with possibility for artistic exploration, not only celebrating life and vitality, but taking a sharp and critical look at illness and demise. I too wanted to learn more about these artists and looked up their work, seeing what an impact they had on the author.
This was a very impactful, passionate and powerful book. It is one that will stay with me as an intense reminder of the joy and pain of living, the strength and fragility of the human body.
Gleeson has a very powerful way with language, of drawing us into her story, so that we feel we are there with her through all the events described, the braces and casts put on, and cut off, to support her hips, the unrelenting pain experienced since early childhood, the condescension of most in the medical system whom she encountered; the numbing shock and pain described in the essay entitled “Our Mutual Friend” as well as the nose-to-nose confrontation with mortality; the pains of childbirth and the beautiful honesty about the vulnerability of being a new mother; the scene of death of her dear “second mother” so vividly described in the last chapter, right down to the smell in the room, the quiet stagnancy of the final wait. In each of the essays, Gleeson knowledge of medical terminology is apparent, but rather than being overwhelmingly scientific, she plays with these words to create a sort of poetry. She does this to even greater degree in her essay/poem on some of her most intense experiences of pain, which she structures like the McGill Pain Index. And she shows the expanse of her capability with language when she writes a letter in the form of a poem (“non-letter”) to her daughter.
She also comments on other artists who used art to articulate and communicate their experience of illness. Frida Kahlo, Lucy Grealy and Jo Spense were all such women, and their stories greatly impacted on Gleeson during her times of illness, allowing her not to feel so alone, but also to see the human body in new ways, with possibility for artistic exploration, not only celebrating life and vitality, but taking a sharp and critical look at illness and demise. I too wanted to learn more about these artists and looked up their work, seeing what an impact they had on the author.
This was a very impactful, passionate and powerful book. It is one that will stay with me as an intense reminder of the joy and pain of living, the strength and fragility of the human body.