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AVALANCHE
At the age of thirty-eight, acclaimed novelist Julia Leigh made her first visit to the IVF clinic, full of optimism. So started a long and costly journey of nightly injections, blood tests, surgeries, and rituals.
Writing in the immediate aftermath of her decision to stop treatment, Leigh lays bare the truths of her experience: the highs of hope and the depths of disappointment, the grip of yearning and desire, the toll on her relationships, and the unexpected graces and moments of black humour. Along the way she navigates the science of IVF, copes with the impact of treatment, and reconciles the seductive promises of the worldwide multi-billion-dollar IVF industry with the reality.
Avalanche is the book that has finally been written on IVF treatment: a courageous, compelling and ultimately wise account of a profoundly important and widespread experience. At the heart of this work is an exploration of who and how we love. It is a story we can all relate to - about the dreams we have, defeated or otherwise, for ourselves, our loves, and our relationships.
Writing in the immediate aftermath of her decision to stop treatment, Leigh lays bare the truths of her experience: the highs of hope and the depths of disappointment, the grip of yearning and desire, the toll on her relationships, and the unexpected graces and moments of black humour. Along the way she navigates the science of IVF, copes with the impact of treatment, and reconciles the seductive promises of the worldwide multi-billion-dollar IVF industry with the reality.
Avalanche is the book that has finally been written on IVF treatment: a courageous, compelling and ultimately wise account of a profoundly important and widespread experience. At the heart of this work is an exploration of who and how we love. It is a story we can all relate to - about the dreams we have, defeated or otherwise, for ourselves, our loves, and our relationships.
138 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
November 1, 2016
Julia Leigh is a novelist and filmmaker based near Sydney, Australia. She first walked into an IVF clinic at age 38. When her marriage broke down, however, things got complicated. Her ex wouldn’t allow her to use his frozen sperm. Cycle after cycle, the hormones, hopes and costs (over A$11,000 just to freeze her eggs) built up. By now Leigh was 44 and had no partner. Her situation was certainly not ideal, and her chances of becoming pregnant were only ever rated as high as 20%. It’s hard not to think of her as selfish and not a little delusional. I was embarrassed by details of Leigh’s relationship with Paul, and bored by details of her infertility treatment. I think she should have gone one of two ways with this material: condensed it into a long article for the New Yorker or Guardian, or transmuted her experience into a novel, which could still convey the medical and emotional realities.
See my full review at Nudge.
See my full review at Nudge.
May 10, 2016
So necessary that IVF and infertility is written about.
Utterly brave of her to do so.
Scared me half to death, too close to home.
I wish she had written more about the complexity of facing the many others with babies and children. Perversely, I wanted to know more about what she really went through, because there must have been so much more; particularly the aftermath.
Having said that, I don't know how she managed to commit those words to the pages, to be consumed by the public.
But I'm grateful, she shed light on something so opaque.
Utterly brave of her to do so.
Scared me half to death, too close to home.
I wish she had written more about the complexity of facing the many others with babies and children. Perversely, I wanted to know more about what she really went through, because there must have been so much more; particularly the aftermath.
Having said that, I don't know how she managed to commit those words to the pages, to be consumed by the public.
But I'm grateful, she shed light on something so opaque.
February 15, 2017
There’s all sorts of reasons why I don’t feel I’m in a position to comment on Julia Leigh’s Avalanche, an account of her experience with IVF. However, Leigh makes a statement early in her memoir that made me pause and think –
“In the public imagination – as I perceive it – there’s a qualified sympathy for IVF patients, not unlike that shown to smokers who get lung cancer. Unspoken: ‘You signed up for it, so what do you expect…?'”
“Qualified sympathy” – it’s an interesting phrase. Have I ever been guilty of qualified sympathy? Probably, although certainly not in relation to someone’s desire to have a baby. It’s these kind of gritty bits that lodged as I was reading Avalanche.
Leigh describes her yearning for a baby; the physically exhausting IVF process; and the emotional strain of constant cycles of waiting, hoping and disappointment –
“The process was forever throwing up new ways to be disappointed that I hadn’t even dreamt existed. The constant uncertainty took its toll.”
She began clear-minded about how many IVF cycles she was prepared to go through however, like many people on an IVF program, the gamblers mentality of “Just one more…” or “We’ve gone this far…” kicked in –
“…in the IVF world we all have our parameters, our personal lines in the sand. At least we do when we start out, before the harsh desert winds cut across the dunes… My own parameter was that I couldn’t face using a stranger’s sperm. I wanted to have a special personal bond with the father of my child.”
Avalanche does not have the happy ending you might expect. For this reason alone, it’s an important book. There’s no hint of the ‘miracle baby after 30 rounds of IVF’ story that is so often heard – instead, it’s a realistic and honest account of the gruelling and frequently unrewarding IVF process. Remarkably, what is absent from her story is any bitterness, although she admits to being selfish and questions whether this is compatible with being a good mother.
Leigh raises some of the ethical questions associated with IVF – costly additional procedures that are ‘impulse buys’ for women desperate for success, doctors that have a financial stake in clinics, and the ‘business’ of babies.
“An uncharitable thought… IVF seemed to be a great deal about levels and cut-offs. If number X, then do Y. I wondered if it was the medical equivalent of conveyancing in the legal world, which is to say, largely formulaic, a matter of following protocol.”
Her thoughts on the ethical issues, as well as the interface between the ‘formulaic’ and emotional decisions inherent in the IVF process were interesting but brief – I would have liked more although I appreciate that we’re talking about extremely complex issues. Equally, Leigh’s thoughts on grief and when we can grieve – for an imagined child? For an egg? For a blastocyst? For an embryo? – were fascinating but brief –
“I’m an expert at make-believe. Our child was not unreal to me … A desired and nurtured inner presence. Not real but a singular presence in which I had radical faith.”
3.5/5 Thought provoking.
“In the public imagination – as I perceive it – there’s a qualified sympathy for IVF patients, not unlike that shown to smokers who get lung cancer. Unspoken: ‘You signed up for it, so what do you expect…?'”
“Qualified sympathy” – it’s an interesting phrase. Have I ever been guilty of qualified sympathy? Probably, although certainly not in relation to someone’s desire to have a baby. It’s these kind of gritty bits that lodged as I was reading Avalanche.
Leigh describes her yearning for a baby; the physically exhausting IVF process; and the emotional strain of constant cycles of waiting, hoping and disappointment –
“The process was forever throwing up new ways to be disappointed that I hadn’t even dreamt existed. The constant uncertainty took its toll.”
She began clear-minded about how many IVF cycles she was prepared to go through however, like many people on an IVF program, the gamblers mentality of “Just one more…” or “We’ve gone this far…” kicked in –
“…in the IVF world we all have our parameters, our personal lines in the sand. At least we do when we start out, before the harsh desert winds cut across the dunes… My own parameter was that I couldn’t face using a stranger’s sperm. I wanted to have a special personal bond with the father of my child.”
Avalanche does not have the happy ending you might expect. For this reason alone, it’s an important book. There’s no hint of the ‘miracle baby after 30 rounds of IVF’ story that is so often heard – instead, it’s a realistic and honest account of the gruelling and frequently unrewarding IVF process. Remarkably, what is absent from her story is any bitterness, although she admits to being selfish and questions whether this is compatible with being a good mother.
Leigh raises some of the ethical questions associated with IVF – costly additional procedures that are ‘impulse buys’ for women desperate for success, doctors that have a financial stake in clinics, and the ‘business’ of babies.
“An uncharitable thought… IVF seemed to be a great deal about levels and cut-offs. If number X, then do Y. I wondered if it was the medical equivalent of conveyancing in the legal world, which is to say, largely formulaic, a matter of following protocol.”
Her thoughts on the ethical issues, as well as the interface between the ‘formulaic’ and emotional decisions inherent in the IVF process were interesting but brief – I would have liked more although I appreciate that we’re talking about extremely complex issues. Equally, Leigh’s thoughts on grief and when we can grieve – for an imagined child? For an egg? For a blastocyst? For an embryo? – were fascinating but brief –
“I’m an expert at make-believe. Our child was not unreal to me … A desired and nurtured inner presence. Not real but a singular presence in which I had radical faith.”
3.5/5 Thought provoking.
March 20, 2017
This book should have been called "Avalanche: the story of an intelligent woman making a number of terrible decisions". Ok, so that's too long for a title, but once you've read it then you won't have to read this book, which is a very short, very poetic recounting of a decade worth of bad decisions with predictable bad outcomes. Unfortunately for the author, she had enough money to make the kind of truly bad decisions most of us can't. Money can't buy happiness or sense, it seems.
Also, this book is short. I started it on a two-hour flight and had finished it before the plane started its descent. The bad decision to only take on book on a flight: I'll never do that again.
Also, this book is short. I started it on a two-hour flight and had finished it before the plane started its descent. The bad decision to only take on book on a flight: I'll never do that again.
January 24, 2021
I am a man. I am a father with three children. We had no trouble conceiving, and though we lost two babies to miscarriage, we've been fairly lucky when it comes to fertility and childbirth. Thus, my biases probably make my feelings about Avalanche: A Love Story unhelpful or tone deaf or irrelevant to many folks who don't share my experiences.
I'm going to share my biases anyway ('cause that's often what goodreads is for).
I don't believe there is a right to pregnancy or childbirth, nor do I support medical intervention to make pregnancy possible. My position does not come from religious conviction -- of which I have absolutely none -- but from my convictions about socio-economics and the nature of intervening when natural selection has made a choice we don't like.
I'm also not a fan of one-person shows. They are mostly self-indulgent, overrated crap from spoiled artists who reveal their inner selves in ways that vilify everyone who disagreed with them in their lives and rarely contain much in the way of self-reflection or personal responsibility. Privileged elites pretending to be victims or finding their identity in victimhood is not my idea of a stimulating evening of theatre.
To some extent, Avalanche: A Love Story falls into the confines of both these biases. It is, after all, about a privileged woman -- a white (Australian?), affluent screenwriter -- and her attempts to get pregnant in her late-thirties and early-forties. Even before she gets to the latter stages of fertility, pregnancy has been a long shot for her, and her own body proves to be as problematic as the man -- her ex-, then her husband, then her ex- again -- she hopes to share the experience with. Indeed, everyone around her is to blame for her situation to some extent or other, and even her mother, who tries to talk the narrator out of becoming pregnant because she thinks the narrator will be a terrible mother, is known only through her opposition to the narrator's journey. So the selfishness, the embrace of being the victim, the unmitigated privilege, and the single, whiny, self-indulgent voice made my time spent with Avalanche: A Love Story a challenge.
Yet somehow, with all these things working against my appreciation of the one-woman show, I found myself impressed by Avalanche: A Love Story. If I set aside all my problems with Avalanche: A Love Story, I am left with a narrative that did affect me emotionally. For all the narrator's faults, for all my feelings of opposition to her, Avalanche: A Love Story was able to take me to a place where it didn't matter what my biases were or are ... the narrator's truth was her truth and that is what mattered. No. I can't know what it was to be the narrator, to be a woman facing the pressures of motherhood slipping away from her in a society that still expects motherhood for all women, to understand the struggle to conceive -- possibly alone -- but Avalanche: A Love Story gave me a chance to empathize with someone who has experienced these things, and even if it wasn't terribly entertaining Avalanche: A Love Story was enriching.
That's good enough for me.
I'm going to share my biases anyway ('cause that's often what goodreads is for).
I don't believe there is a right to pregnancy or childbirth, nor do I support medical intervention to make pregnancy possible. My position does not come from religious conviction -- of which I have absolutely none -- but from my convictions about socio-economics and the nature of intervening when natural selection has made a choice we don't like.
I'm also not a fan of one-person shows. They are mostly self-indulgent, overrated crap from spoiled artists who reveal their inner selves in ways that vilify everyone who disagreed with them in their lives and rarely contain much in the way of self-reflection or personal responsibility. Privileged elites pretending to be victims or finding their identity in victimhood is not my idea of a stimulating evening of theatre.
To some extent, Avalanche: A Love Story falls into the confines of both these biases. It is, after all, about a privileged woman -- a white (Australian?), affluent screenwriter -- and her attempts to get pregnant in her late-thirties and early-forties. Even before she gets to the latter stages of fertility, pregnancy has been a long shot for her, and her own body proves to be as problematic as the man -- her ex-, then her husband, then her ex- again -- she hopes to share the experience with. Indeed, everyone around her is to blame for her situation to some extent or other, and even her mother, who tries to talk the narrator out of becoming pregnant because she thinks the narrator will be a terrible mother, is known only through her opposition to the narrator's journey. So the selfishness, the embrace of being the victim, the unmitigated privilege, and the single, whiny, self-indulgent voice made my time spent with Avalanche: A Love Story a challenge.
Yet somehow, with all these things working against my appreciation of the one-woman show, I found myself impressed by Avalanche: A Love Story. If I set aside all my problems with Avalanche: A Love Story, I am left with a narrative that did affect me emotionally. For all the narrator's faults, for all my feelings of opposition to her, Avalanche: A Love Story was able to take me to a place where it didn't matter what my biases were or are ... the narrator's truth was her truth and that is what mattered. No. I can't know what it was to be the narrator, to be a woman facing the pressures of motherhood slipping away from her in a society that still expects motherhood for all women, to understand the struggle to conceive -- possibly alone -- but Avalanche: A Love Story gave me a chance to empathize with someone who has experienced these things, and even if it wasn't terribly entertaining Avalanche: A Love Story was enriching.
That's good enough for me.
July 2, 2017
Earlier this year, during an ultrasound ordered to determine the reason for some pelvic pain, I was informed that I have a birth defect that drastically reduces the chances of being able to carry a pregnancy to term. There are different grades of the defect, some bettering the chances. But analysis of the scans showed that my defect is the worst case scenario in its extremity. A doctor was even brought into the room by the tech to confirm this, in a moment so surreal that it struck me at the time as mordantly funny.
I've thought, for a long time and for many reasons, that I don't want to have children, but the news hit me surprisingly hard. I wanted to be the one to make that choice. I wanted to allow for the possibility of meeting a wonderful man who I'd feel moved to raise a child with. It is hard to be told that something that happens so naturally for millions of women may just...not happen for you.
Julia Leigh's story is a bit different from mine, in the sense that there is no discernible cause of her infertility except her age. She's 38 when she first considers conceiving with her then-boyfriend, soon to be husband, a man she portrays as charming but who reads in this book like a big time emotional manipulator (though it's unclear what role she plays in that dynamic, if any; it could have just been a bad match). Their relationship falls apart and she begins considering IVF on her own as a single mother. But she has a hard time securing a donor and time passes.
The majority of the book, after a long opening focused on her on and off relationship, is a telling of the attempts to cultivate, fertilize, freeze and implant her eggs until the age of 44. She tries six times to do this, usually with only one or two viable eggs, and is always disappointed with the results. The financial expense is enormous. She finds out during the last attempt that of women her age doing this form of IVF, only 2.2 percent wind up with live births.
It is impossible to read this without your heart breaking for Leigh a little bit. I know adoption is an option (it's not for her, though), but she conveys very well the feeling of complete deflation that comes over time when you realize that the thing you want most will not happen in this life. She lets go of hope of a successful implantation and stops trying because it is the healthiest thing for her. But one gets the sense that she is still working through her feelings by the writing of this book.
I picked up this book because I thought that it might help to read about someone who also had to accept stacked odds and the fact that she may not have a choice in the matter when it comes to having a child. And it did help, although I wished for a bit more about how she came to terms with her future, more about the hope that comes after the loss of the dream.
I've thought, for a long time and for many reasons, that I don't want to have children, but the news hit me surprisingly hard. I wanted to be the one to make that choice. I wanted to allow for the possibility of meeting a wonderful man who I'd feel moved to raise a child with. It is hard to be told that something that happens so naturally for millions of women may just...not happen for you.
Julia Leigh's story is a bit different from mine, in the sense that there is no discernible cause of her infertility except her age. She's 38 when she first considers conceiving with her then-boyfriend, soon to be husband, a man she portrays as charming but who reads in this book like a big time emotional manipulator (though it's unclear what role she plays in that dynamic, if any; it could have just been a bad match). Their relationship falls apart and she begins considering IVF on her own as a single mother. But she has a hard time securing a donor and time passes.
The majority of the book, after a long opening focused on her on and off relationship, is a telling of the attempts to cultivate, fertilize, freeze and implant her eggs until the age of 44. She tries six times to do this, usually with only one or two viable eggs, and is always disappointed with the results. The financial expense is enormous. She finds out during the last attempt that of women her age doing this form of IVF, only 2.2 percent wind up with live births.
It is impossible to read this without your heart breaking for Leigh a little bit. I know adoption is an option (it's not for her, though), but she conveys very well the feeling of complete deflation that comes over time when you realize that the thing you want most will not happen in this life. She lets go of hope of a successful implantation and stops trying because it is the healthiest thing for her. But one gets the sense that she is still working through her feelings by the writing of this book.
I picked up this book because I thought that it might help to read about someone who also had to accept stacked odds and the fact that she may not have a choice in the matter when it comes to having a child. And it did help, although I wished for a bit more about how she came to terms with her future, more about the hope that comes after the loss of the dream.
December 13, 2017
A very honest and lucid account of the author's (depressing) experience with IVF. It is easily read, quite matter of factly describing the various treatments (which sometime sound like being offered by snake-oil salesmen).
At the age of 38 she rekindles a love affair from university days, they marry with the few of having a child. But it will require medical assistance due to the husband's vasectomy.
It is an emotional marriage of two strong-minded people. They separate and then divorce.
Leigh continues on her journey giving eggs, seeking ex-husband's approval to use his sperm, finding another sperm donor, under going more treatment and having her mental and physical health drained.
She is very obsessed, even self-obsessed in her quest that covers 8 or so years as the probability of success quickly reduces with her ageing.
The villain of the story is the IVF industry which is making a lot of money. I had no idea the success rates of IVF were so low.
At the age of 38 she rekindles a love affair from university days, they marry with the few of having a child. But it will require medical assistance due to the husband's vasectomy.
It is an emotional marriage of two strong-minded people. They separate and then divorce.
Leigh continues on her journey giving eggs, seeking ex-husband's approval to use his sperm, finding another sperm donor, under going more treatment and having her mental and physical health drained.
She is very obsessed, even self-obsessed in her quest that covers 8 or so years as the probability of success quickly reduces with her ageing.
The villain of the story is the IVF industry which is making a lot of money. I had no idea the success rates of IVF were so low.
February 10, 2017
Avalanche is a short book, with the pace of a thriller and an emotional rawness that's hard to look at directly. I raced through it in a morning and, honestly, I think I'm still recovering from it. Just thinking of the ending sparks emotion. I'd recommend this for anyone with children, anyone trying for children, or anyone who definitely does or does not want children in the future.
One of my favourites of 2016, in the category 'Best One-Sitting Read That Made Me Cry': http://www.kirstylogan.com/best-books...
One of my favourites of 2016, in the category 'Best One-Sitting Read That Made Me Cry': http://www.kirstylogan.com/best-books...
February 18, 2017
Writing a book about your experience with the IVF program comes with many emotional pitfalls and landmines. It crashes into the brick wall of other people's preconceived and often strongly held opinions.
The trick, obviously, is to connect emotionally to your reader very early on.
Full review here - http://bronasbooks.blogspot.com.au/20...
The trick, obviously, is to connect emotionally to your reader very early on.
Full review here - http://bronasbooks.blogspot.com.au/20...
May 22, 2016
Enthralling account of the author's experience of wanting and trying for a child. Such an open and honest book. I read it in one sitting. Gives an insight into the IVF world that I imagine is generally only accessible to those going through it personally.
September 27, 2016
I was recently diagnosed with "unexplained infertility", which basically means that the husband and I have been trying to get pregnant for the past year unsuccessfully (with the exception of a ruptured ectopic pregnancy). After talking to a specialist we've realized that IVF might be in our future. This book was so heart wrenching. The sheer amount of effort and soul that Julia put into having a baby was so sad. It was wonderful of her to open up about her struggles with IVF and infertility. While I'm a solid 10 years younger than her, I'm thankful to her for bringing to light such a tough subject. 8/10. Would recommend for anyone dealing with infertility.
October 23, 2016
I'm a big fan of Julia Leigh's fiction, but I struggled a bit to engage with this short memoir detailing her experience with IVF. The writing is typically stylish and Leigh has bravely presented a very unfiltered view of her struggles through the process. I think my lack of interest in parenthood made it hard for me to feel very sympathetic or to really connect with Leigh's experiences. I'm sure there's an audience for whom this book will resonate a lot, but it's not me.
May 27, 2016
I saw Julia Leigh do a talk at the Sydney Writer's Festival and was spell bound by her. This book is layered and heavy and insightful. I don't know if I will have children but I am so thankful for this account of one potential aspect of what that journey might look like one day, and what challenges you can potentially face as a trade off for waiting as long as possible to decide.
September 14, 2016
Who cares?
Self indulgent, repetitive, and flat. One does feel compassion for the author, yet the book was like a stale flat beer.
Self indulgent, repetitive, and flat. One does feel compassion for the author, yet the book was like a stale flat beer.
August 13, 2021
Leigh is an antihero. I appreciated her knack for communicating her thoughts and sensations at every point and got caught up in the story, but it is filled with high risk decisions with big costs and few wins. This is not just a book about IVF though: it's a book about a tumultuous on again, off again relationship with a capricious and repeatedly unfaithful partner. I think this colours her recount of her IVF experience.
Despite this, I couldn't put it down and think it would make a fantastic classroom text.
Despite this, I couldn't put it down and think it would make a fantastic classroom text.
February 11, 2017
Originally reviewed at Tea & Titles
And so begins my quest to read through the Stella Prize 2017 longlist.
If you haven’t already, I suggest going over to look at my pre-reading thoughts post so you can learn more about the prize, and my thoughts, obviously.
I mentioned in that post that I don’t know a whole lot about IVF. I’m only 21 right now, and my goals for the next 5 or so years don’t include children at all. I don’t know anyone who went through IVF, or read anything about it at all. It’s just one of those areas that I am completely unknowledgeable about. I knew it was a difficult process and taxing on the body and mind, but I didn’t realise how much it really took until I read this.
Avalanche is the story of Julia Leigh’s own experience with IVF treatment. She tells the story with honesty, and I could feel my heart breaking for her with every page. There were so many times I wished that everything would go right for her, and every time it didn’t I felt her pain. The fact Julia Leigh managed that when I have absolutely no similar experience should clue you in as to how heartbreaking this book is. I’m not a big memoir fan, but the Stella Prize always makes me feel like I should be.
One thing I did really connect to was when Julia had to start injecting herself. She only had to do it once a day, but her description of attaching the needle to the pen, injecting herself in her stomach and putting the needle into the sharps container is the closest I’ve been so far to seeing myself in a book. I inject four times a day with my diabetes, but I go through the same process. Maybe it’s a little strange, but that really helped me connect to this book.
All in all, I would definitely recommend Avalanche and I’m eager to see whether this makes the shortlist or not. Remember to keep checking back for more reviews of the Stella Prize longlist books!
And so begins my quest to read through the Stella Prize 2017 longlist.
If you haven’t already, I suggest going over to look at my pre-reading thoughts post so you can learn more about the prize, and my thoughts, obviously.
I mentioned in that post that I don’t know a whole lot about IVF. I’m only 21 right now, and my goals for the next 5 or so years don’t include children at all. I don’t know anyone who went through IVF, or read anything about it at all. It’s just one of those areas that I am completely unknowledgeable about. I knew it was a difficult process and taxing on the body and mind, but I didn’t realise how much it really took until I read this.
Avalanche is the story of Julia Leigh’s own experience with IVF treatment. She tells the story with honesty, and I could feel my heart breaking for her with every page. There were so many times I wished that everything would go right for her, and every time it didn’t I felt her pain. The fact Julia Leigh managed that when I have absolutely no similar experience should clue you in as to how heartbreaking this book is. I’m not a big memoir fan, but the Stella Prize always makes me feel like I should be.
One thing I did really connect to was when Julia had to start injecting herself. She only had to do it once a day, but her description of attaching the needle to the pen, injecting herself in her stomach and putting the needle into the sharps container is the closest I’ve been so far to seeing myself in a book. I inject four times a day with my diabetes, but I go through the same process. Maybe it’s a little strange, but that really helped me connect to this book.
All in all, I would definitely recommend Avalanche and I’m eager to see whether this makes the shortlist or not. Remember to keep checking back for more reviews of the Stella Prize longlist books!
September 19, 2016
As someone who's gone through IVF, my thoughts are all over the place about this, so I feel the need to bullet-point them as they are.
-The tone of this is matched by the cover art -- cool, wintery, with an air of sharp bitter wind
-Her relationship with her partner and then ex-partner is astoundingly toxic and terrible and oh-my-god, and I nearly choked on the awfulness several times -- this is not your typical "we were so in love and so perfect and yet so fated to struggle" story.
-Her honesty is searing and sharp as the tip of a sword tracing down a fingertip. CS Lewis once wrote of Tolkien's work, "Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron; here is a book that will break your heart." Seems apt here.
-The ending
-Her author photo makes me want to wrap her up in a sweater, pour her some tea, and offer a silent, comforting hug
-This is raw. So very raw. I'll leave it with a quote that sums it up: “Whenever people asked "How are you?" by way of social nicety I lied through my teeth. "Not too bad," I'd say. Or "Swings and roundabouts." At least I didn't say "Fine, thanks." or "A livid scar cuts across my very being.” That livid scar, I know it, we all know it.
-The tone of this is matched by the cover art -- cool, wintery, with an air of sharp bitter wind
-Her relationship with her partner and then ex-partner is astoundingly toxic and terrible and oh-my-god, and I nearly choked on the awfulness several times -- this is not your typical "we were so in love and so perfect and yet so fated to struggle" story.
-Her honesty is searing and sharp as the tip of a sword tracing down a fingertip. CS Lewis once wrote of Tolkien's work, "Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron; here is a book that will break your heart." Seems apt here.
-The ending
-Her author photo makes me want to wrap her up in a sweater, pour her some tea, and offer a silent, comforting hug
-This is raw. So very raw. I'll leave it with a quote that sums it up: “Whenever people asked "How are you?" by way of social nicety I lied through my teeth. "Not too bad," I'd say. Or "Swings and roundabouts." At least I didn't say "Fine, thanks." or "A livid scar cuts across my very being.” That livid scar, I know it, we all know it.
May 15, 2019
I don't have a lot in common with Julia Leigh. Most importantly, I'm never going to undergo an IVF procedure. But there is something about it that registers so close to the bone: the articulation of her frustration and ultimate devastation at the failure of IVF, in such clean, bare prose.
The sparseness allows that emotion to refract, it bounces between the language and the emotional circuitry underneath, amplifying it's effect. It's a beautiful, devastating read.
[ I didn't know about this memoir until I heard about the play based on it, which I wrote about here: https://harryrmcdonald.wordpress.com/... ]
The sparseness allows that emotion to refract, it bounces between the language and the emotional circuitry underneath, amplifying it's effect. It's a beautiful, devastating read.
[ I didn't know about this memoir until I heard about the play based on it, which I wrote about here: https://harryrmcdonald.wordpress.com/... ]
May 27, 2016
Whoa, that was intense. I loved Julia Leigh's novellas and consider her one of the best Australian writers. I didn't know much about this book except that it was memoir and about her experiences with IVF. I learnt a lot about the statistics behind IVF and the crappy choices women are faced with. If this is of interest/relevant to you I'm sure you will get a lot from this book.
January 7, 2017
This book is stunning. If you have been through IVF, it will break open your wounds and help you assimilate the experience. New perspectives, brilliant insights, validation. If you have not experienced IVF, read this book. You will learn a lot about childlessness and human desires, and recognise the everyday grief that is all around you for a variety of reasons.
June 4, 2016
Leigh really is courageous writing this beautifully honest and much needed book about her IVF journey. She gives a voice to any woman who has had a similar experience and for that its hard not to be grateful.
August 8, 2016
A beautifully raw yet poignant account of one woman's quest for pregnancy. Leigh writes with a gut-wrenching level of honesty that makes you feel each trial and tribulation in the deepest corners of your heart.
February 19, 2018
Account of a woman and her increasingly desperate struggle for a child via IVF. Raw and merciless on herself, her (ex)partner and the IVF industry. And with a very hopeful message at the end. Even if it is a very different one from the usual miracle baby narrative.
July 17, 2016
Intense, beautifully written and brave.
March 12, 2017
Brutally honest and heartbreaking.
I felt Leigh's pain so acutely. Distraught that it never paid off. I can't even imagine.
I felt Leigh's pain so acutely. Distraught that it never paid off. I can't even imagine.
August 22, 2020
This is a well-written book about a woman who tried for years to become pregnant, in Australia.
October 18, 2022
An unbelievably brave and raw account of a woman undertaking IVF. I have no idea how she built the courage to recount her experience, through the heartbreak and disappointment but I, and I’m confident so many others, are so grateful that she has.
March 20, 2017
A quick read, only seventy pages, but a profound one, especially for 'women like us'. I wanted to read this even though in reality I so didn't, but I also wanted to know one thing, that I wasn't alone and not crazy, that the decision that I just had to make, like Julia, was one because of reasons that have to stand up to what is right, and the crappiness of low chances and stats. Unlike Julia though, I am now going to try and go down the second road, that of adoption, and mainly due to the simple lack of funds to pay for the 'minute' chance of more failed IVF or of surrogacy (incase no one realises, it's anywhere from 16-20 thousand a pop). Oh, to win lotto. I am sure as a writer myself, I will eventually write about a character who goes through the adoption road, as I have already touched on the IVF and I am sure I will again. Until you go through it, a 'mother' just doesn't really get it. Lost a best friend because of it, she just didn't understand the emotional tole. She already was a mother, and just didn't get why others truly can't be or how unwomanly you can feel when your female body betrays you and breaks down making you feel like a failure as a woman. I applaud Julia for writing this memoir, and I hope it gives solace to all the other thousands of women who too fail at something that should be 'normal and natural'. A warm hug and a box of tissues.
July 27, 2020
It was hard for me not to be all 'judgey' when reading this book, but I guess that's because I'm coming at it from such a different angle. Having struggled with fertility, and now trying to adopt, I read some parts of this book in horror. I was shocked at the nature of the authors relationship with her husband, and at the thought they were trying to conceive a baby. Anyone who has tried to adopt in Australia will know that it is such a difficult process, and your whole life is put through the wringer. But it seems if you have cash, and can pay for IVF, those same set of protocols don't apply to you.....
I wanted to cry and bang my head against the wall when the author explained on one hand how desperate she was for a baby, yet decided to go on birth control for a few a months so she could work on her movie. I mean FFS!
That said, this is the author's life. She chose to share it and I chose to read it.
I wanted to cry and bang my head against the wall when the author explained on one hand how desperate she was for a baby, yet decided to go on birth control for a few a months so she could work on her movie. I mean FFS!
That said, this is the author's life. She chose to share it and I chose to read it.
August 15, 2019
Really good to read in one sitting. The lack of chapters builds the mood of all-encompassing obsession. The gambling-addicts rationalising of numbers, the superstitions and omen spotting. The isolation of doing this by yourself because your friends don’t understand and the burden it places on your loved ones.
The book also shows the predatory nature of fertility clinics, like drug dealers causally chucking options in front of you. Using emotional language to suck you in. Playing down the poor odds.
One voice giving a glimpse of the silent majority who have endured failed fertility treatments.
The book also shows the predatory nature of fertility clinics, like drug dealers causally chucking options in front of you. Using emotional language to suck you in. Playing down the poor odds.
One voice giving a glimpse of the silent majority who have endured failed fertility treatments.
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