Customer Review

Reviewed in India on 23 June 2021
My first taste of Adichie was “We should all be feminist” in 2020 and I was immediately drawn to her words. I watched her ted talks and put her books in my wishlist.

Then came ‘Notes on Grief’ and I jumped right in. The book is a heartbreaking account of the author’s emotions after her father passed away. Although the book is just 90 pages long it manages to strike a chord with it’s readers because Adichie captures emotions that people struggle to put in words.

I especially felt her helplessness amid all the Covid uncertainties, her fight between grief and heart, her first reaction to hearing the news “Don’t tell anyone, because if we tell people, then it becomes true”.

In this well written book there are a few quotes which I particularly loved-

✨ I did not know that we cry with our muscles. The pain is not surprising, but its physicality is.

✨ Laughter becomes tears and becomes sadness and becomes rage. I am unprepared for my wretched, roaring rage. In the face of this inferno that is sorrow, I am callow and unformed.

✨ We don’t know how we will grieve until we grieve.
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4.0 out of 5 stars Review
By Chaitanya Sharma on 23 June 2021
My first taste of Adichie was “We should all be feminist” in 2020 and I was immediately drawn to her words. I watched her ted talks and put her books in my wishlist.

Then came ‘Notes on Grief’ and I jumped right in. The book is a heartbreaking account of the author’s emotions after her father passed away. Although the book is just 90 pages long it manages to strike a chord with it’s readers because Adichie captures emotions that people struggle to put in words.

I especially felt her helplessness amid all the Covid uncertainties, her fight between grief and heart, her first reaction to hearing the news “Don’t tell anyone, because if we tell people, then it becomes true”.

In this well written book there are a few quotes which I particularly loved-

✨ I did not know that we cry with our muscles. The pain is not surprising, but its physicality is.

✨ Laughter becomes tears and becomes sadness and becomes rage. I am unprepared for my wretched, roaring rage. In the face of this inferno that is sorrow, I am callow and unformed.

✨ We don’t know how we will grieve until we grieve.
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