Books

At fifty, a cycling accident left Crosby, a professor and a lesbian, quadriplegic. She writes about pain, dependence, desire and gender in a body that no longer does what it did, without redemption arc.

The year following her stroke at seventy-three: the loss of energy and concentration, the slow negotiation with a body that no longer complies, and the stubborn return to work. Unsentimental about what illness takes and honest about what it does not.

Tweit and her husband got his terminal brain-cancer diagnosis and decided to spend the time left travelling and looking at birds. A caregiving memoir that is honest about the tedium and indignity as well as the love. Winner of the Sarton Women Book Award.

Written at sixty with terminal brain cancer, in a matter of weeks. Taylor is unillusioned about dying, angry about having no legal means to choose her moment, and very clear-eyed about her parents deaths as rehearsal for her own.

Literary scholar Susan Gubar was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in her mid-60s and chose to document what she calls being “debulked” — the brutal surgery that extended her life but transformed her body. This memoir is rigorous, unsentimental, and deeply moving: a reckoning with mortality, medicine, and the will to keep living and writing.

Drawing on her PhD in cellular immunology, Ehrenreich argues that much of modern preventive medicine, wellness culture, and the anti-aging industry sells false control over a body and a mortality we cannot ultimately command. She examines how the immune system can itself abet disease, and makes the case for accepting the limits of medicine and the certainty of death rather than killing ourselves to live longer.

A fiftysomething ad executive leaves San Francisco to rebuild a 300-year-old stone barn in rural Italy — and, amid a breast-cancer diagnosis, builds a joyful late-life reinvention.

Written in her sixty-seventh year, through a mastectomy, a savage review of her work, and the end of a love affair. Sarton set out to record what recovery actually looks like from the inside, and produced one of the few sustained accounts of an older woman body and mind under real strain.

Mitchell was fifty-eight, working for the NHS, when she was diagnosed with young-onset dementia. Written from inside the diagnosis rather than beside it, which is what makes it different from everything else on the subject.

Poet Janet Mason reflects on the factory-working lives of her mother and grandmother in working-class Philadelphia while she cares for her mother through her final illness, and on the choices open to her as a lesbian daughter that were never open to her mother.