Flesh & Blood

Reflections on Infertility, Family, and Creating a Bountiful Life: A Memoir

By: N. West Moss

Narrated by: Erin Spencer

Honest, warm, and witty, this memoir reads like a chat with a dear friend sharing her insight and taking us along as she heals. Complete with family stories over cocktails and a praying mantis named Claude.

“I drive and say to myself, if I am dying, if this is how I die, then this is how I die.” When N. West Moss finds herself bleeding uncontrollably in the middle of a writing class, she manages to drive herself to the nearest hospital. Doctors are baffled, but eventually a diagnosis—uterine hemangioma—is rendered and a hysterectomy is scheduled. In prose both lyrical and unsparing, Moss takes us along through illness, relapse, and recovery. And as her thoughts turn to her previous struggles with infertility, she reflects on kin and kinship and on what it means to leave a legacy.

Moss’s wise, droll voice and limitless curiosity lift this narrative beyond any narrow focus. Among her interests: yellow fever, good cocktails, the history of New Orleans, and, always, the natural world, including the praying mantis in her sunroom whom she names Claude. And we learn about the inspiring women in Moss’s family—her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother—as she sorts out her feelings that this line will end with her. But Moss discovers that there are ways besides having children to make a mark, and that grief is not a stopping place but a companion that travels along with us through everything, even happiness.

A remarkably honest memoir about heartache and healing, Flesh & Blood opens up a conversation with the millions of women who live with infertility and loss.

Beautiful Book

This book as been so comforting to me. I found it to be honest and beautifully written. I have listened to it many times. It is a challenging book to describe. N West Moss describes our connections to the past and joy in our lives even in sadness and grief. This is a special unique book.

A Beautiful Memoir Filled with Life, Love, and joy

With a central theme of infertility, some reviewers have categorized this book as a work for a female audience, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. This is a beautiful memoir, that, to categorize it as being about infertility, is to sell it short. It's a meditation on life, loss, family, praying mantises, middle age, growing up in the woods north of New York City, the healing powers of celery soup, marriage, and yes, infertility. Despite the seriousness of the central subject, it’s filled with life, love, and joy.

Perfectly narrated by Erin Spenser, Moss’ tale bears the hallmark of the best of memoirs, her voice is sure and strong and filled with humor, but her writing style is never heavyhanded or maudlin, even when discussing the most challenging of subjects. Moss’ struggle with infertility in her 40’s and 50’s is the centerpiece of this tale, but it’s also an exploration of her bonds with her mother and grandmother, and ultimately it’s a love letter to her two elders that sets this book apart.

The book oozes with stories of Grandma Hastings’s youth in New Orleans, Moss’ bucolic childhood in the woods of Northern Westchester county, and the loving steadfastness of Moss’ mother Anne. The simple joys of life and family surround a tale of miscarriage and hysterectomy. The book addresses the challenges of illness, loss, and recovery, and as a man who is dealing with my own loss based on illness, I was able to get a better perspective on my own healing journey having been led through Moss’ own experience with illness and recovery.

Hoping for hope, instead I actually yelled at my poor car’s stereo

If you’re an upper middle or upper class privileged white woman who is facing a hysterectomy, and struggling with a bland life, this is definitely the book for you. I suppose I’m glad this book exists just so I can hear an experience, but I was imbued with bored rage for at least two thirds of the listening experience, and completely exasperated with the lack of biological understanding. Small point: calico cats are female.