Alyssa Graybeal's quirky debut memoir-in-essays, Floppy, arrays snapshots of how creativity and order--in the form of knitting and librarianship--help her cope with chronic illness. "As a kid, I fell down stairs like it was my hobby," she writes. In the piece "Lucky Fall," she recalls bragging to an ER doctor about the hundreds of stitches she'd had by age 10. This was no mere clumsiness; on that hospital visit, she was diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a connective tissue disorder that leads to persistent pain. With no genetic follow-up or therapeutic intervention until her 30s, Graybeal didn't realize how much her condition would affect daily life, including an unusual gait, sensitivity to temperature extremes, allergies, cramps after eating, and joint pain.
Graybeal grew up in the Pacific Northwest and returned to Oregon after her degrees and marriage in Canada. An effective metaphor contrasts her faulty collagen fibers with the wool she dyed and spun. Crafting links multiple areas of her life. In "How to Dress for Montreal Winter," a compassionate friend knits her mittens; when, in "Framed," she meets her future wife, Mags, she admires Mags's fingerless gloves. The pair live simply and pursue handiwork until Mags's alcoholism drives them apart.
The dynamic essays bounce between times and places. Narrative highlights, witty vs. somber, include her exchange year in France, buying a portable bathtub, and the loss of her half sister to cancer. With realism and occasional whimsy, Graybeal casts a wry eye over life with chronic illness. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck