In her notable 1985 work, *The Body in Pain*, Elaine Scarry discusses the “embarrassment” of pain and its resistance to being expressed in words. She notes that “physical pain” doesn’t just reject language; it can actively destroy it. This notion resonates with Virginia Woolf’s earlier observation about language being “dry” when it’s failing. Both of these perspectives speak to the challenge of expressing suffering. Dealing with persistent pain triggers a range of feelings: curiosity about its origins, fear over what it might signal, and a yearning for relief. However, seeking a diagnosis can sometimes be just as exhausting as enduring the pain itself. In *Pathemata*, Maggie Nelson reflects on her own complex health struggles, describing each morning as if “my mouth survived the war.” It protests, concealing its suffering.
Nelson traces her problems back to a teenage orthodontist, ongoing tonsillitis battles, and a “tongue thrust” she had, trying to figure out what was wrong. She meticulously documents each appointment, medication, and scan, with various dental offices resembling a choreographed routine. Written during the pandemic, this piece captures the pervasive uncertainty of that time. She often mentions her partner as a source of support while also expressing her frustrations over the challenges of parenting and attempts to get her son vaccinated. Her emotions are laid bare, especially when her child remarks on her anger.
In this insightful book, Nelson explores the complexities within parent-child dynamics, care, the body’s aging process, loneliness, and the reality of mortality.
The term *Pathemata*—meaning “suffering” in Ancient Greek—can depict both physical pain and the shared experience of a pandemic. Yet, Nelson’s writing spans beyond singular topics, even in her most focused books, like *Jane: Murder*, which deals with her aunt’s death. In this thoughtful exploration, she delves into the responsibilities intertwined in parental care, the body’s limits, and the deep-seated feelings of isolation and fear of mortality. The narrative weaves through time, blurring lines between reality, dreams, and fiction.
Pain is intimate, almost like a fingerprint. Yet, Nelson ponders why some individuals seem to cope better with similar ailments: “Some people with bites are more messed up than those who aren’t. They can share the same MRI results, yet one is bedridden while another thrives in fitness.” She realizes the mouth symbolizes the unique struggles a writer faces, especially as emotions often find their expression there. During COVID-19, the mask became a reminder of all the feelings we express through our mouths; what once was a communicative tool now feels like a barrier. Beckett’s words echoed a fascination that even struggles can inspire deep artistic expression.
During the pandemic routine, Nelson finds herself glued to news programs, feeling both isolated and lonely as she shares a space with her partner. Everyday household activities endearingly contrast with feelings of abandonment, heightened by her friend’s declining health, which she can only acknowledge through phone calls. The grief, palpable in her reflections, leads her to hear echoes of her friends calling her name, with a haunting realization: “No one will ever say my name again—my loved ones, my friends.”
In her search for meaning, Nelson reads about how the pandemic has muted spontaneous joys and surprises. Her sense of magic in life seems to fade, complicating reflections on aging. She admits her writings aren’t about self-glorification; that magic she yearns for feels elusive. For many, nostalgia surges during COVID, but the fear of what lies ahead also plants seeds of anxiety in her thoughts. Influenced by the works of Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath, her feminist theory mentor, she navigates these dark corridors of reminiscence.
This narrative, consisting of short, repeated segments, poignantly conveys the essence and repercussions of pain, revealing the confusion it invites. “If I hadn’t spent so much time thinking about pain, what else would I have pondered?” For Nelson, living with pain means balancing her roles as a mother, educator, and partner.
The full title of her book—drawing from Greek origins—suggests that suffering can lead to understanding. However, this is far from a straightforward task, particularly for Nelson, who grapples with what she terms the “pain puzzle.” The suffering faced by saints often brings thoughts of penance, but she is not seeking redemption. Instead, she invites readers to reflect on their own pain as she works to understand her experiences with loss. By sharing her journey, she encourages a collective understanding, prompting us to embrace our lives in the face of physical challenges and global upheavals.
