Publishers Weekly
★ 12/11/2023
In this aching meditation on loss and friendship, essayist and novelist Crosley (Cult Classic) eulogizes her late literary mentor and best friend against the backdrop of the high-pressure publishing industry. At 25, Crosley applied for a job opening at Vintage Books. Russell Perreault, the then-37-year-old head of the paperback imprint’s publicity department, was charmed and offered her the job. When Crosley, who was hesitant to leave her current position at “a more commercial publishing house,” asked for a second interview, Russell shot back, “It’s like you’ve been admitted to Harvard but first you need a tour of the bathrooms.” From there, the two became fast friends as they faced down crises both minor and major, including the exposure of James Frey’s lies in his fictionalized 2003 memoir, A Million Little Pieces. By the 2010s, however, Russell’s light began to dim—Crosley stopped receiving invitations to his country house after his romantic life imploded, and changing workplace norms silenced his signature banter. On June 27, 2019, Crosley’s apartment was burglarized; exactly one month later, Russell died by suicide. Crosley elegantly links the two losses by explaining how her fevered desire to reclaim her burglarized items stood in for her inability to reclaim Russell. Her characteristically whip-smart prose takes on a newly introspective quality as she reinvigorates dusty publishing memoir tropes and captures the minutiae of a complicated friendship with humor and heart. This is a must-read. Agent: Jay Mandel, WME. (Feb.)
From the Publisher
"There's nothing traditional or twice-cooked about Crosley's voice, her arresting observations . . .Throughout, Crosley cites Joan Didion, whose two personal books on grief, The Year Of Magical Thinking and Blue Nights, she obviously sees as a touchstone for her own. To me, Grief Is For People is every bit their equal in eloquence, intensity and toughness."
—Maureen Corrigan, NPR
"Sloane Crosley finds a way to take the formless devastation of an acute loss — the death of her friend Russell — and transform it into a work of art: a chronicle of grief finely, closely observed."
—Christopher Cox, New York Magazine
"Impeccably crafted, this book pushes an already feted writer into potent new territory."
—Hephzibah Anderson, The Guardian
"Grief Is for People finds Sloane Crosley grappling with an apartment break-in and, not long after, the death of a dear friend and colleague by suicide. In prose that is both personal and raw—and yet somehow still makes room for Crosley's rightfully-heralded wit—Grief Is for People is a powerful, touching memoir that explores a place we are all going to be at some point. Yet, despite it being a mourning book, this is not a grim or dark book— but a poignant and relatable one, with a sly humor and heartbreaking candor that beautifully expresses anger, acceptance, and love."
—Isaac Fitzgerald, The TODAY Show
"[Crosley's] signature shrewdness comes through, particularly in the Depression section, which shows the author in the depths of her grief, but offers relief through humorous lines of dialogue and passing thoughts on pandemic-era activities . . . [Crosley is] offering us a look into [Perreault's] life through the lens of her love, pain and admiration. Telling us, with precision and generosity, how it might be when it is our turn to remember what was true about those we’ve lost."
—Ashley C. Ford, The New York Times Book Review
"Grief Is for People is a moving and much-needed tribute to this vital but often unsung human relationship. . . Crosley's book is a roaring success."
—Becca Rothfeld, The Washington Post
“Crosley’s writing sparkles with a remarkable wit . . . [Grief Is for People] is more bold, probing, and exposed than anything else she has published . . . By attesting to her pain so publicly and poignantly, Crosley again shows her noteworthy literary chops, as well as her unambiguous love for all that’s been lost.”
—Cory Oldweiler, The Boston Globe
“A stunning investigation into the nature of loss . . . [Crosley] hasn’t abandoned her spritely wit, but she is looking more critically at what matters here.”
—Chloe Schama, Vogue
“Raw and poignant . . . Leavened by Crosley’s characteristic gimlet wit, this excavation of grief, loss, and friendship leaves a lasting twinge.”
—Adrienne Westenfeld, Esquire
"A beautifully written, illumination, mordant and moving meditation on [Crosley's] experience of loss and its aftermath."
—Abigail Fagan, Psychology Today
"Is it wrong to say that a memoir about loss and grieving is fun to read? If so, I’m in trouble, because I enjoyed every word of this book. I also ached and suffered along with Crosley: Her portrait of mourning after the suicide of her best friend is gutting and deeply engaging."
—Susan Orlean, author of The Orchid Thief
"Potent and propulsive, a lyrical meditation on loss and what comes after. Grief Is for People is heartbreaking and wholly original."
—Tara Westover, author of Educated
"I have come to rely on Sloane Crosley for her oyster knife humor, bourbon hot observation, and indelible portraits of how we live with each other. Grief Is For People is about how we live without the ones we love. Crosley brings her whole self to this memoir—her gifts, her flaws, her intellect, her wit and emotion. She loves hard, grieves hard, and writes with the beauty and urgency of a white hot star. I wish I didn’t 'get' this book as much as I do but Grief Is for People is the book I didn’t know I needed to read."
—Tayari Jones, author of An American Marriage
"Grief Is for People captures the feeling of watching a beloved, inappropriate and wild person fit less and less with the times we live in. Like Didion's The Year Of Magical Thinking or Defoe's Journal of a Plague Year, Grief Is for People takes us through the ordinary, awful and never-quite-ending experience of loss. It also made me laugh very hard, many times. I can't stop thinking about it."
—John Mulaney
“An indelible portrait of a singular friendship, Grief Is for People is a beautifully written and sharply observed memoir about grief, yes, but also: secrets, betrayal, rage, work, community, and most of all, love. It's both a provocation and a balm to the soul.”
—Dani Shapiro, author of Family History
"In this vivid, and bitingly funny account, Sloane Crosley exposes the magical thinking and murk that follow a friend's suicide. Crosley's prose is honest, lucid, and always surprising; I can't imagine a better companion to guide us through the pain of losing a friend. A painful and necessary book; I will be keeping it close for years to come."
—Meghan O'Rourke, author of The Invisible Kingdom
"Grief can feel like falling off a tall cliff in slow motion. Sloane Crosley maps each second of her descent through anguish and disbelief with such intelligence, humor, and unvarnished honesty that we never want to hit the ground. It’s a testament to Crosley’s enormous talent that she could transform such a terrible loss into a story that becomes more satisfying with each page: a celebration of the ambiguities of our deepest connections and a manifestation of love so strong that it emanates forgiveness and gratitude."
—Heather Havrilesky, Ask Polly columnist and author of Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage
"Novelist and essayist Crosley is a tightrope writer of devastating wit and plain devastation, a balancing act no doubt requiring even more muscle in this memoir of her grief...This is a searching, impassioned, cathartic, and loving elegy."
—Booklist, starred review
"Not only a joy to read, but also a respectful and philosophical work . . . A sharp narrative that finds commonality in the dislocation brought on by these events . . . A warm remembrance sure to resonate with anyone who has experienced loss . . . Marvelously tender."
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"In this aching meditation on loss and friendship, essayist and novelist Crosley (Cult Classic) eulogizes her late literary mentor and best friend against the backdrop of the high-pressure publishing industry...Her characteristically whip-smart prose takes on a newly introspective quality as she reinvigorates dusty publishing memoir tropes and captures the minutiae of a complicated friendship with humor and heart. This is a must-read."
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
MARCH 2024 - AudioFile
Narrating her memoir, Sloane Crosley delivers ironic humor that balances the horror of back-to-back traumas. Admitting the unlikelihood and disorientation of what happened, Crosley links the vulnerability she felt at a burgled apartment and, a month later, at the suicide of her boss and friend, Russell. Their shared history in the shifting publishing industry serves as a backdrop, a potential rationale for Russell's suicide, and one more compelling facet of this audio. Crosley's fresh imagery and pithy one-liners are delivered with perfect timing, sometimes rapid fire and at other times with introspective pauses. Complex relationships and complicated feelings add to experiences of theft, suicide, and the Covid pandemic. Crosley's wit and sometimes witlessness are as reconcilable and relatable as her raw reactions and wishful imaginings. S.W. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2024, Portland, Maine
Kirkus Reviews
★ 2023-09-19
An essayist and novelist turns her attention to the heartache of a friend’s suicide.
Crosley’s memoir is not only a joy to read, but also a respectful and philosophical work about a colleague’s recent suicide. “All burglaries are alike, but every burglary is uninsured in its own way,” she begins, in reference to the thief who stole the jewelry from her New York apartment in 2019. Among the stolen items was her grandmother’s “green dome cocktail ring with tiers of tourmaline (think kryptonite, think dish soap).” She wrote those words two months after the burglary and “one month since the violent death of my dearest friend.” That friend was Russell Perreault, referred to only by his first name, her boss when she was a publicist at Vintage Books. Russell, who loved “cheap trinkets” from flea markets, had “the timeless charm of a movie star, the competitive edge of a Spartan,” and—one of many marvelous details—a “thatch of salt-and-pepper hair, seemingly scalped from the roof of an English country house.” Over the years, the two became more than boss and subordinate, teasing one another at work, sharing dinners, enjoying “idyllic scenes” at his Connecticut country home, “a modest farmhouse with peeling paint and fragile plumbing…the house that Windex forgot.” It was in the barn at that house that Russell took his own life. Despite the obvious difference in the severity of robbery and suicide, Crosley fashions a sharp narrative that finds commonality in the dislocation brought on by these events. The book is no hagiography—she notes harassment complaints against Russell for thoughtlessly tossed-off comments, plus critiques of the “deeply antiquated and often backward” publishing industry—but the result is a warm remembrance sure to resonate with anyone who has experienced loss.
A marvelously tender memoir on suicide and loss.
