Mary Cappello – författare

Some books start at point A, take you by the hand, and carefully walk you to point B, and on and on. This is not one of those books. This book is about mood, and how it works in and with us as complicated, imperfectly self-knowing beings existing in a world that impinges and infringes on us, but also regularly suffuses us with beauty and joy and wonder. You don't write that book as a linear progression you write it as a living, breathing, richly associative, and, crucially, active, investigation. Or at least you do if you're as smart and inventive as Mary Cappello. What is a mood? How do we think about and understand and describe moods and their endless shadings? What do they do to and for us, and how can we actively generate or alter them? These are all questions Cappello takes up as she explores mood in all its manifestations: we travel with her from mood rooms to art installations to off the beaten path natural history museums, to the more scientific corners of topics like depression and synesthesia, to jazz improv and, of course, the countless writers who have attempted to pin down just what this central aspect of being human is and means.The result is a book as brilliantly unclassifiable as mood itself, blue and green and bright and beautiful, smart and sympathetic, as powerfully investigative as it is richly contemplative. "I'm one of those people who mistrusts a really good mood," Cappello writes early on. If that made you nod in recognition, well, maybe you're one of Mary Cappello's people; you owe it to yourself to crack Life Breaks In and see for sure.

When her octogenarian poet mother was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer, Mary Cappello and her wife moved into the living room of Rosemary's one-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia to help fulfill her wish to live out her life at home. A memoir in the form of lyric essays—with her mother's own writing interspersed—Frost Will Come is a daughter's tribute to her mother's months-long transition from a deeply lived life to a difficult, beautiful, and uneasy death.In the tradition of Annie Ernaux's I Remain in Darkness and Simone de Beauvoir's A Very Easy Death, Cappello renders an immersive and emotionally honest portrait of modern caregiving in a prose style that is the very definition of candor: spontaneous, fresh, unadorned, frank, and open. While paying homage to expert caregivers and medical professionals, Cappello also brings her signature razor-sharp analysis to all the things that fall outside the realm of (medical) knowledge—from platitudes around the time death takes to the defiance of a "peaceful death" as a sign of a moral failing.Frost Will Come is much more than a memoir of grief. It is a rare reckoning with the very fundamentals of existence: how we come into being, how we care, and how we die.

When her octogenarian poet mother was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer, Mary Cappello and her wife moved into the living room of Rosemary's one-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia to help fulfill her wish to live out her life at home. A memoir in the form of lyric essays—with her mother's own writing interspersed—Frost Will Come is a daughter's tribute to her mother's months-long transition from a deeply lived life to a difficult, beautiful, and uneasy death.In the tradition of Annie Ernaux's I Remain in Darkness and Simone de Beauvoir's A Very Easy Death, Cappello renders an immersive and emotionally honest portrait of modern caregiving in a prose style that is the very definition of candor: spontaneous, fresh, unadorned, frank, and open. While paying homage to expert caregivers and medical professionals, Cappello also brings her signature razor-sharp analysis to all the things that fall outside the realm of (medical) knowledge—from platitudes around the time death takes to the defiance of a "peaceful death" as a sign of a moral failing.Frost Will Come is much more than a memoir of grief. It is a rare reckoning with the very fundamentals of existence: how we come into being, how we care, and how we die.

Foreword Book of the Year AwardIndependent Publishers Award (IPPY)Lambda Literary Award FinalistPublishing Triangle Award FinalistGAMMA Award, Best Feature from The Magazine Association of the Southwest for "Getting the News," The Georgia Review, Summer 2009Notable Essay of the Year Citation in Best American Essays 2010 for "Getting the News"Named one of the Best Books of the Year by the Guerilla Girls On Tour and by WILLA: Women in Literary Arts and LettersAn extended meditation on the nature of love and the nature of time inside illness, Called Back is both a narrative and non-narrative experiment in prose. The book moves through the standard breast cancer treatment trajectory (diagnosis, surgery, chemotherapy, radiation), with the aim of discovering unexpected vectors of observation, meaning and desire inside each phase of the typically mandated four-part ritual. A lyrical feminist critique of living with cancer at the turn of the twenty-first century in the United States, the book looks through the lens of cancer to discover new truths about intimacy and essential solitude, eroticism, the fact of the body, and the impossibility of turning away. Offering original exegeses of the work of Marsden Hartley, Emily Dickinson, Gertrude Stein, and Marcel Proust, Called Back relies on these artists' queer aesthetics to tease the author back to life. What might a person tutored as a reader of signs "see" inside breast cancer's paces, protocols, and regimes? What does the experience occlude, and what can we afford to liberate? The first chapter paves the way for the book's central emphases: a meditation on the nature of "news" and the new, on noticing, on messages—including those that the body itself relies upon in the assumption of disease—and the interpretive methods we bring to them in medical crisis. Language is paramount for how we understand and act on the disease, how we imagine it, how we experience it, and how we treat it, Cappello argues. Working at the borders of memoir, literary nonfiction, and cultural analysis, Called Back aims to displace tonal and affective norms— infantilizing or moralizing, redemptive, sentimental or cute—with reverie, rage, passionate intensity, intelligence, and humor.

A beguiling and deeply rewarding exploration of Philadelphia's Mutter Museum Foreign Body Collection, drawers filled with items that have been swallowed. It is also a quirky portrait of Dr Chevalier Jackson, the pioneering laryngologist who extracted these items non-surgically. Animating the space between interest and terror, curiosity and dread, Capello explores the physiology of the human swallow, the poignant and psychology that compels people to ingest non-nutritive items. A history of racism, violence, class and poverty and forced ingestion.

Los Angeles Times Bestseller“Mary Cappello[’s] inventive, associative taxonomy of discomfort . . . [is] revelatory indeed.” —MARK DOTY, author of Dog Years: A Memoir and Fire to Fire: New and Selected Poems“A wonderful, multi-layered piece of writing, with all the insight of great cultural criticism and all the emotional pull of memoir. A fascinating book.” —SARAH WATERS, author of The Night Watch and The Little StrangerWithout awkwardness we would not know grace, stability, or balance. Yet no one before Mary Cappello has turned such a penetrating gaze on this misunderstood condition. Fearlessly exploring the ambiguous borders of identity, she mines her own life journeys—from Russia, to Italy, to the far corners of her heart and the depths of a literary or cinematic text—to decipher the powerful messages that awkwardness can transmit.Mary Cappello is the author of four books of literary nonfiction, including Awkward: A Detour, which was a Los Angeles Times bestseller, Called Back: My Reply to Cancer, My Return to Life, which won a ForeWord Reviews Book of the Year Award and an Independent Publishers Prize, and Swallow: Foreign Bodies, Their Ingestion, Inspiration, and the Curious Doctor Who Extracted Them. Professor of English at the University of Rhode Island, she lives in Providence, Rhode Island and Lucerne-in-Maine, Maine.

An energetic and irreverent essay on the forgotten art of the lecture, part of Transit’s new Undelivered Lectures series.