Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole

This book is a lot like Quiet, albeit a different subject. But the general idea is the same. Cain identifies a part of her personality that seems in conflict with the world and creates a lawyer's argument about why society is wrong, and that the personality trait is better than most people acknowledge.

In this case it is what she most often refers to as longing. As such, this book has a bit more of a spiritual feeling to it than did Quiet. But anyone who loved Quiet will probably love this book as well.

I was so excited to read this book as Quiet was transformative for me. Maybe it was a case of unrealistic expectations, but this book not only didn't resonate much with me (even though I'd certainly describe myself as drawn to bittersweetness; my Spotify Wrapped inevitably skews to “yearning” and “nostalgia”), I didn't find it particularly well-written or intellectually exciting. There were moments I loved, mostly when Cain is reflecting on her own personal experiences, and I thought the final chapter on inherited trauma was well-researched and fascinating. So much of it, though, felt like she was giving credence to scam artists, or at the very least giving way too much benefit of the doubt. In particular, I feel like the sections on “anti-deathers” would have been greatly improved with some healthy skepticism. I'm sad to give this the rating I did, but anything higher would be a stretch.

A review in quotes from the book...

“This book is about the melancholic direction, which I call ‘bittersweet': a tendency to states of longing, poignancy, and sorrow; an acute awareness of passing time; and a curiously piercing joy and the beauty of the world. The bittersweet is also about the recognition that light and dark, birth and death—bitter and sweet—are forever paired...Yet to fully inhabit these dualities—the dark as well as the light—is, paradoxically, the only way to transcend them. And transcending them is the ultimate point. The bittersweet is about the desire for communion, the wish to go home.” (p. xxiii)

“Most of all, bittersweetness shows us how to respond to pain: by acknowledging it, and attempting to turn it into art, the way musicians do, or healing, or innovation, or anything else that nourishes the soul. If we don't transform our sorrows and longings, we can end up inflicting them on others via abuse, domination, neglect. But if we realize that all humans know—or will know—loss and suffering, we can turn toward each other. This idea—of transforming pain into creativity, transcendence, and love—is the heart of this book.” (p. xxv)

“...creativity has the power to look pain in the eye, and to decide to turn it into something better.” (p. 61)

“We're taught to think of our psychic and physical wounds as the irregularities of our lives, deviations from what should have been; sometimes, as sources of stigma. But our stories of loss and separation are also the baseline state, right alongside our stories of landing our dream job, falling in love, giving birth to our miraculous children. And the very highest states—of awe and joy, wonder and love, meaning and creativity—emerge from this bittersweet nature of reality. We experience them not because life is perfect—but because it's not.” (pp. 92-93)

Okay, I think that's enough to give you the flavor (if you will) of this lovely, lovely book.