A memoir about love and loss – the objects we imbue with memories and those treasured people who play a significant part in our lives – Sloane Crosley offers an eloquent dive into the feeling of grief. 
 
Crosley’s New York apartment is burgled of her jewellery. Some were heirlooms; all were entwined with memories and the fallout was excavated. However, this singular moment doesn’t make the book: its real power arrives with the gut-punch of her close friend Russell’s suicide four weeks later. A moment that rocks Crosley, as she tries to make sense of haunting spectres. 
 
With nods to Joan Didion and philosophers, such as Arthur Schopenhauer, this slim, but substantial memoir is punctuated by humour that brings a touch of levity to the darkest of life’s tribulations.