WOW! i found this to be incredibly powerful and touching. yiyun li's writing is vulnerable, honest, and raw. this book made me feel a lot of emotions, primarily immense sorrow for the reality that yiyun li is living in (the abyss as she describes). things in nature merely grow is only half the story, as li recognizes and is hit with the brutal reality that all things also die. she is experiencing the worst of it all. two sons dead from suicide. this is not about grief, and i found her analysis of the faulty use of the word very relevant and true. these are not things you "grieve" and move on from. these are permanent states of being that are incredibly painful.

*thank you to the publisher for the eARC*

I enjoy Yiyun Li's poetry, so when I got the chance to get an ARC of her new memoir, Things in Nature Merely Grow, I was excited to dive in.

This memoir is a tribute to Li's younger son, James, who died by suicide in 2024 at 19 years old. Just a few years earlier, her other son, Vincent, also died by suicide. TiNMG is an attempt to capture the experience of living in the abyss after losing two children, of coming to terms with death, of the inadequacies of language and bemusement and annoyance that comes with people's assumptions or clichés. Li is a capable prose writer as well as a poet, and her command of language and metaphor are beautiful.

Even though she is an artist living through unimaginable tragedy, Yiyun Li is not overcome by pathos. Instead, she writes with a practical acceptance, focusing on the necessity of living after tragedy rather than dwelling on the emotions of the tragedy itself. Her tone mirrors the extreme pragmatism of her son, James, who was rarely emotional and filled his time with studying math, languages, and philosophy. It's such a departure from other memoirs about death—and even my own approach to mourning—that it was almost jarring. But I appreciated her perspective, and I loved her writing throughout.

When I received this advance copy, I was very interested and jumped into it originally. I was familiar with Li's essay in The New Yorker on the death of her sons, which exists in this book as well, and this was a brief, but haunting read. I finished it in a day because I wanted to do it justice and read it all the way through before I got busy with other tasks. As per usual, Li's writing is crisp, beautiful, and striking throughout--highly recommend this one!

It’s hard to describe how much I loved this book. After dealing with the death of both of her sons, Yiyuan Li describes how she moves through the abyss that is her life presently, and by doing so, narrates the radical acceptance she’s taken on. The book feels more like a peek inside a journal - there’s no direct through line - but I thought that worked wonderfully. At just under 200 pages, Li puts words to the many faces of living through tragedy.

In Things in Nature Merely Grow, Yiyun Li grapples with the suicide of her younger son, after having survived the suicide of his older brother. Her prose is spare but unsparing as she explores her son's life -- and whether there were hints that might have predicted his final act. it's a meditation about going through the motions and continuing to survive -- because what else can one do? it also avoids trying to draw any lessons or conclusions. Though, there is a brief chapter on what not to do if a friend is grieving. Highly readable, complicated, and ultimately moving because of, rather than in spite of, its lack of sentiment. Like all of Yiyun Li's work, it dares the reader to look away from its terrible beauty. Highly recommend.

My favourite from Yiyun Li so far, this was an unbelievably intimate and heartbreaking ode to her son. Li's writing is so personal that it almost feels like a breach of privacy to read her books, but that is also the mark of an extremely skilled author. This book follows on from Where Reasons End, and builds on it both in it's form (more analytical and concrete, like her son) and Li's grief journey. It felt special to be able to read this one.

Without a doubt one of the best books I’ve ever read. Such a compelling book with (obviously) deeply upsetting subject matter that occasionally hits you right in the gut. But mostly I feel like somehow everything will be all right? When I try to write down the particulars it feels like I’m not doing them justice, so I’m not going to attempt that, but I think everyone should read this. I feel better and stronger for having read it. This is one of those books that I’m just gonna have to buy several copies of so I can try to lower the barrier to making all my friends read it.

Yiyun Li is a well known novelist who writes beautifully. Her most recent non fiction about processing the loss of her second son to suicide, after having lost her first son to the same a few years back, is without a doubt heart wrenching, and excellently written. This book made me think about loss in ways I've never thought about before. This is not a sob story, this is not even about grief, it's more of understanding, reflecting and approaching the situation. Some people might even find this approach a bit disconnected and detached. But that's the point. She approaches this intellectually, logically and doesn't talk about the how or why but gives facts, pays tributes and moves towards radical acceptance.

Will post review on Goodreads,fable,insta in june

Yiyun Li's memoir Things in Nature Merely Grow is an incredibly moving reflection on the loss of her younger son James by suicide. She previously explored the loss of a son by suicide in her novel Where Reasons End, which she wrote after the death of her older son Vincent by suicide. To lose both of your children that way is unimaginable. This memoir is of course deeply interior. She writes "I have decided to write this book, starting with a single established fact: I am in an abyss." She describes the radical acceptance she is incorporating in the aftermath of James' death. She also looks back on Vincent's death and compared the similarities and differences between her sons. She writes "Vincent lived through his feelings, deep, intense, and overwhelming feelings, and he dies from his feelings." While "James thought hard: deeply, philosophically, and privately. He died from thinking." She is introspective about her intuitions as a mother. I appreciated her reflection on learning to swim as an adult- those learning in childhood tend to swim unthinkingly, and she extrapolates for some living is a natural process, which she believes has never been true for her or her sons. Some breathtakingly sad and resonant words from Li, and if a reader is in a good headspace to read about this topic matter, I would very much recommend this one.

Thank you to Farrar, Straus and Giroux via NetGalley for the advance reader copy in exchange for honest review.

It's usually hard for me to review nonfiction, especially nonfiction about unimaginable tragedies, but this book made me sob multiple times. I'm not a very emotional person most of the time but this book broke my heart in so many places despite not being a sentimental book. I don't want to say too much about this book because I believe it should be read and felt itself, and anything I try to say about it will fall short of what an experience this was, but Yiyun Li has solidified herself again and again as one of the greatest contemporary writers in the world. This is a book that knows its purpose and achieves it without unflinching, with honesty and with grace. Thank you so much for this ARC.

It really hurt me to read what she had been through but it really blossomed in this book to something great.

Devastating nonfiction book. The author handles such a difficult topic with extreme care. Highly recommend if you’re looking for an evoking book.

Li wrote this book after she lost her second son to suicide (after losing her eldest son to suicide six years before the incident). The author makes it clear that this is not a book about grieving, but what she does is present facts and logic (to honor her son James, who was pragmatic and hated attention) - and she absolutely does not tie things up with a neat little bow. She eschews common grief terminology and platitudes that are often offered after death, and rather focuses on “radical acceptance” of the cards that she has been dealt. I have quite simply never read a book that is so graceful about suicide, despite how harrowing it can be. There is no doubt that Li’s pain of losing both her children to suicide is insurmountable, but the words she wields and the acknowledgment she offers for their situations, despite her pain, make her stand apart. She doesn’t make these incidents about herself or the hypotheticals or could-haves and would-haves, but rather focuses on what a mother could best do - be honest with her children and herself, do the best job she can to protect them from life’s cruelties, but also allow them to live the lives they wanted. This is an intensely personal memoir, and I’m not even sure it’s something that can - or should - be “rated” or “reviewed.” But if you’re comfortable with the subject matter, I believe it’s a book more people should read, especially because of how thoughtfully and compassionately it approaches suicide without demonizing it.

In Nature Things Merely Grow is a memoir written by Yiyun Li, where she shares her thoughts on the loss of her son, James.

My thoughts
In Nature Things Merely Grow is stark and poignant. It made my heart ache. Every sentence was beautifully written and each word was purposeful. I felt haunted by this memoir and found myself reflecting over Li's writing for quite some time every time I stopped reading. This is one that has definitely left its mark.

5/5

Thanks to NetGalley, Farrah, Straus & Giroux and Yiyun Li for this e-ARC.

I requested this book on NetGalley because Yiyun Li's fiction has been on my TBR for a while, and the description of this memoir—both in subject and style—sounded challenging yet beautiful.

As expected, the writing was gorgeous. The way she weaves in other mothers’ grief through references to plays and poems was especially powerful and added depth to her reflections.

That said, it’s no surprise that this book is incredibly difficult to read. Li writes about unimaginable loss—her own struggles with depression and suicidal ideation, and the deaths of both of her sons. Yet, what struck me most was the emotional distance in her narrative. It felt as if she were writing from a place of detachment, and while that may be a necessary survival mechanism for her, it created a sense of disconnection for me as a reader.

There was something about this memoir that didn’t sit well—not because of the heaviness of the events, but because of how Li processes and conveys them. It seemed like she was trying to approach the story with the same logic and restraint that her son James might have valued. But that clinical, detached tone left me feeling even more unsettled. I walked away from the book not just heartbroken, but almost disturbed, which wasn't what I expected.

I believe books about grief can offer comfort or perspective—tools we carry with us for the hard days ahead. For me, this memoir didn’t offer that. While I recognize the craft and intention behind it, it ultimately wasn’t the reading experience I had hoped for.

reading books on grief often feels like reading someone's diary without them knowing -- like, maybe i should not be reading this. it's a very personal pain li talks about and she does it in a way that many people won't relate to. but i also, like her, think more than feel, and it's heartbreaking that many people don't understand that kind of sorrow and i'm glad i read about someone who experiences grief in a similar way. there are some beautiful insights in here but the book was a means to an end: trying to grapple with the loss of her son; because of this i don't recommend it to everybody, but if you've ever lost someone and feel like reading these kinds of books to cope with it, it's certainly a valid option.

This book is so AMAZING. It was straight from the heart. It made me cry, it made me reflect, it made me pause. This does not offer closures or meaning or 'why' as Yiyun Li warns us early on in the book. I loved it.

*Things in Nature Merely Grow* by Yiyun Li is a profoundly moving memoir that beautifully blends personal grief with a deep reflection on the complexities of human loss. The book recounts the heartbreaking tragedy of losing both of her sons to suicide, but despite the weight of the subject matter, Li’s writing never feels overwhelmingly sorrowful. Instead, it offers a thoughtful exploration of how to approach those grieving, providing a guide to the do's and don'ts for anyone trying to support someone in unimaginable pain. What stands out in Li's memoir is its emphasis on the subtle, often overlooked ways we can connect with and comfort others in their darkest moments. This is not just a story of personal loss, but also a profound lesson in compassion and understanding. It's a book that leaves you with a sense of quiet strength and insight, making it an invaluable read for anyone seeking to better support those affected by tragedy.

One of those incredibly hard reads that also focuses on grief and how it's experienced - and in this particular case, how two instances of the same thing happening (both of your sons commiting suicide) can be similar and different. One of those things you hope you never have to live through, and honestly, I'm impressed that she only spends one chapter calling out Chinese social media users who decided to dogpile on her after her second son passed. Hell of a read.

“There is no good way to say this.” And yet Yiyun Li did.

Li captured into writing both the vitality of her sons and the tragic aftermath of her days after their passing, more specifically James’ in this memoir. Her writing is exceptional and clear. Despite her intellectual approach in tribute and embodying James, it was very moving and introspective and I found myself in tears. There are passages in this memoir that will stick with me for a while, and although Li warns that this book is not for all readers, I’m sure it will resonate soundly with those for whom she intended it.