Editors Reads
I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death by Maggie O'Farrell — book cover

I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death

by Maggie O'Farrell · Knopf · 278 pages ·

4.6
Reviewed by Marcus Webb

Seventeen chapters, each structured around a different near-death experience — from childhood illness to encounters with violent strangers to medical emergencies — that together form a fragmentary, non-chronological memoir of a life lived in proximity to death.

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Editors Reads Verdict

I Am, I Am, I Am is a formally inventive memoir that uses the near-death experience as a structural principle for exploring a life. O'Farrell writes about the body — its fragility, its resilience, its proximity to catastrophe — with the same precision and emotional intelligence she brings to her fiction. It is one of the finest memoirs of the past decade.

4.6
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What We Loved

  • The formal conceit — seventeen chapters, each a separate brush with death — is used with genuine structural intelligence
  • O'Farrell writes about the body and its vulnerability with extraordinary precision
  • The non-chronological structure creates a cumulative portrait of a life that is more revealing than chronology would allow

Minor Drawbacks

  • The episodic structure can create emotional distance between chapters — some readers find the accumulation numbing rather than intensifying
  • The memoir withholds certain autobiographical context that readers of her fiction might expect

Key Takeaways

  • The body carries the memory of its own near-extinctions in ways the conscious mind may not fully process
  • Proximity to death clarifies what the living ordinarily manage to keep obscure
  • A life can be understood through its crises as well as, or better than, through its continuities
Book details for I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death
Author Maggie O'Farrell
Publisher Knopf
Pages 278
Published September 7, 2017
Language English
Genre Memoir, Creative Nonfiction, Literary Nonfiction

The Body at the Edge

Maggie O’Farrell has come close to dying seventeen times. The opening chapter — a teenage encounter with a man on a remote path who is later identified as a serial killer — establishes the book’s register immediately: visceral, precise, written from inside the moment with a clarity that suggests long retrospective processing of something that could not be processed in real time.

Each of the seventeen chapters takes a different brush with death as its subject and its title: Neck. Lungs. Blood. The naming is deliberate — this is a book about the body, about what the body contains and what it is perpetually close to losing. The structure is not chronological; the chapters move back and forth across O’Farrell’s life, from childhood through to motherhood, assembling a portrait through crisis rather than continuity.

The Chapter on Her Daughter

The book’s most devastating section concerns O’Farrell’s daughter, who has a severe immune disorder that means ordinary childhood is a landscape of potentially fatal encounters. The chapter describes the daily management of this condition — the vigilance required, the toll it takes, the constant recalibration of ordinary life to accommodate extraordinary risk — with a specificity and emotional control that is genuinely remarkable.

This is not sentimentalised. O’Farrell does not write about her daughter’s condition as a test of parental love or a lesson in gratitude; she writes about it as the specific, demanding, exhausting reality it is, and the writing is the better for the refusal of easy comfort.

Form as Meaning

The formal choice — discrete chapters, each complete in itself, each concerned with a different near-death moment — means that the memoir never quite allows the reader to settle into the rhythm of a conventional life story. This is appropriate. What O’Farrell is documenting is not the steady progression of a life but the series of ruptures that interrupted it, and the form enacts that fragmentation at the level of reading experience.

Our rating: 4.6/5 — A formally inventive and viscerally precise memoir that is one of the finest examples of creative nonfiction in recent years — O’Farrell brings her novelist’s eye to her own life with remarkable honesty and craft.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is "I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death" about?

Seventeen chapters, each structured around a different near-death experience — from childhood illness to encounters with violent strangers to medical emergencies — that together form a fragmentary, non-chronological memoir of a life lived in proximity to death.

What are the key takeaways from "I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death"?

The body carries the memory of its own near-extinctions in ways the conscious mind may not fully process Proximity to death clarifies what the living ordinarily manage to keep obscure A life can be understood through its crises as well as, or better than, through its continuities

Is "I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death" worth reading?

I Am, I Am, I Am is a formally inventive memoir that uses the near-death experience as a structural principle for exploring a life. O'Farrell writes about the body — its fragility, its resilience, its proximity to catastrophe — with the same precision and emotional intelligence she brings to her fiction. It is one of the finest memoirs of the past decade.

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