The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating

Tender, contemplative, charming, just like everyone says. I was not prepared, though, for how uncomfortable this book made me feel.

The nature aspects are truly lovely. So are the tone and pace, the gentle rhythm. Bailey's self-awareness shines, even though it's clear that there's much she's holding back, and that, I think, is what kept me so tense the entire time I was reading: Bailey is clearly intelligent and driven; her affliction, one that's especially devastating to such a person. How does she cope? Not with the tedium—snail to the rescue!—but with the feelings of uselessness and despair? Being a burden, unable to produce or give? She's made what comes off as a painful peace with her reality, and that's what I was really hoping to read more about, and what kept me cringing with discomfort. (Or am I the only one whose worst fears involve becoming crippled and utterly dependent on others?)

Elisabeth Tova Bailey got sick, really sick, and then she got sicker, and sicker, until she was too weak to do much except stay in bed. She unexpectedly discovered she had a companion, a snail that had been brought in with some violets from outside. Bailey grew more and more intrigued with the snail, and she got books on snails and talked with experts on snails and, more than anything else, she observed the snail. And, inexplicably, she slowly, slowly got steadily better.

A book that confirms for me the power of nature in our lives.