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The perks and pitfalls of publishing a book about suicide

,   and  Arianna Rebolini
6 min read

Depending on how I'm feeling, the great or frustrating thing about having written a book that affirms the decision to live is that it's another reason I can't do the opposite. Now added to the cons side is the possibility that it would betray the people who've found hope in the book and its conclusions. Ultimately I am glad to have more anchors. Throughout the three months since Better came out, I've been as bad as I ever have been (as anyone who follows me on Instagram likely knows lol) and it has been surreal doing promo where people are asking how I stay okay and I'm digging for an answer that isn't an outright lie but glosses over my new hobby of trying to figure out how far I could get before someone could file a missing persons report. I know this is due to multiple factors: the bill passing, the genocide, the ICE raids, all of the smothering evil, the job search, and also, the book.

To put it bluntly, most days I am devastated over how poorly Better has done—that it hasn't even sold 1000 copies, that it will probably never get a paperback, that I've stopped looking for it in bookstores because it became too depressing to go in hopeful and leave embarrassed. This (rightly) seems dramatic but what you have to understand is I had tied so much consequence—a whole belief system!—to its doing well critically. I spent the last eights years not just writing this book but also grasping at signs to affirm that it was the right thing to be doing. The rituals, the card readings, the altars, the ancestor channeling: I found, everywhere, proof that this thing that had completely taken over my life, that was possibly destroying my marriage, was going to be worth it, because I needed to. The psychic told me! I'd remind myself. I'm on the brink of the breakthrough! I lit a candle, carved and anointed with oil; I charged it with energy and intention; I visualized sitting at the National Book Awards; it's so silly. I didn't even get a review.

I really, honestly, don't mean to complain or indulge in a pity party. I just A) don't know how not to spill all the beans and B) like getting into the nitty gritty in between clips of me talking about the book on local news, because it's so easy to convince oneself that SOMEHOW one's book is flopping harder than ANYONE ELSE'S EVER HAS. I have no idea how all of this goes for other writers, no concept of where 1000 copies fall in the grand scheme of things. And it's not that I don't think writing the book was "worth it"—I'm so proud of it, I'm so grateful for it, I love every person who has read and supported it—it's that I wish, as always, that I'd hoped for less. I wish that I would learn to hope for, dream of, believe in less. I think I've probably always wanted too much from myself and also the world. I said it in Better and I'll say it here: The hope hurts too. I am tired.

But Zohran won with the most votes in NYC primary election history. And I've finally made close enough friendships with other moms that we can just run into each other and decide to grab coffee on the spot, that they are reaching out to check on me and offer help. And Nicolandria made it to the finale. (😏) And despite being in one of the worst depressions of my life, I have been reading some absolute (not depressing!!!!!!) bangers.

Browse every Reading Habits pick at Bookshop.org

The Castaways by Elin Hilderbrand

The goat!! This one isn't as fun as her others but it is just as addictive. It follows a group of middle-aged couple friends in Nantucket, self-dubbed the Castaways, who react to one of the couple's sudden deaths. (I am reminded that my idea of "not depressing" might not be everyone's.) As they all grapple with the tragedy over the course of the summer, you learn about the web of secrets, affairs, suspicions, scandals, and past losses that are underlying their individual journeys through grief and leading them back to each other. It is ultimately uplifting!!!!! I didn't cry, and I cry very easily. I am now reading and loving the lighter, more romantic The Matchmaker. Buy it in print/digital or audio.

The Morgesons by Elizabeth Stoddard

Found this at a favorite shop that I always forget about—192 Books—and I was immediately drawn to it because it was wrapped in plastic (!). It comes from Mandylion Press, which finds and republishes "lost literary gems written by women and weirdos in the (very) long nineteenth century." This one is so weird and so funny, about two oddball sisters as they wreak havoc and defy social conventions throughout the entirety of their lives in 1800s New England. If anyone connected to Mandylion Press is reading this: This is my dream project. I will literally work for you for free. Please. Buy it in print.

The Feast by Margaret Kennedy

Another reissue, originally published in 1950, this one is about a natural disaster that destroys a small-town hotel, killing seven guests. It's an upstairs-downstairs page-turner, following a kaleidoscope of villagers and guests in the days before the event, teasing out the mystery of who will live and who will die. It's loosely built around the seven sins, each one used to skewer the (mostly insufferable) wealthy guests, brilliantly and hilariously showcasing their greed, gluttony, envy, and pride. It would be a tragedy if you felt any sympathy for them. Buy it in print or audio.

Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa

In just 90 pages, Ichikawa creates one of the realest and most compelling protagonists I've read in a long time. Forty-something Shaka, like the author, has a congenital muscle disorder and uses a ventilator and electric wheelchair. She lives in (and never leaves) a care facility just outside Tokyo, but she is uncontained in the digital world. On one blog, she poses as an "armchair journalist," filing fake firsthand accounts of sex-filled city nights; on another she publishes YA smut. Via Moodle, she's getting her second degree; on Twitter, she's sending thoughts like, "My ultimate dream is to get pregnant and have an abortion, just like a normal woman," into the void. It's so much about bodies and sex and femininity and money and power and ableism and all that juicy stuff. Darkly funny, thought-provoking, and subversive. Buy it in print/digital or audio.

Tales from Moominvalley by Tove Jansson

Bought for Theo, devoured by me. I can't believe it took me almost forty years to discover Moomin but now I, with Theo, am obsessed. The comics, the prose: all of it is whimsical, absurd, hilarious, comforting, and, often, subtly political. This is Jansson's only collection of Moomin short stories and it's a great intro to the characters and style. I identify as a Little My / Snufkin blend. Buy it in print/digital.

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