The alchemists sought a formula for turning lead into gold. In her memoir, The Alchemy of Loss, Abigail Carter uses the analogy to illustrate her own experience of the transformative power of tragedy.

Carter’s story begins with an ominous phone call from her husband, who is trapped in one of the twin towers on 9/11. The remainder of the book describes, in clear and logical prose, how she comes to terms with the psychological and material realities of widowhood and single motherhood at the age of 36.

By its very nature, Carter’s narrative is deeply personal, and at times she lapses into a solipsism that minimizes the depth of pain experienced by those around her. There are moments when the grief of her dead husband’s family is portrayed as secondary to her own. While we feel for Carter’s loss, at times her actions strain that sympathy – particularly after the trips to Club Med and Whistler, the pursuit of a higher payout from the 9/11 survivors’ fund, and the decision to begin a new life writing this memoir in Seattle.

A Canadian expat living in the suburbs of New Jersey during a national tragedy, Carter briefly explores the different ways in which Canadians and Americans express grief. But this seems an almost cursory attempt to analyze the cosmetics of what Carter considers unCanadian: mourners wearing T-shirts featuring the faces of lost loved ones, and the ubiquitous slogan “We will never forget.”

Carter’s memoir details the difficulties of finding meaning in death without the comfort of religion, the challenge of balancing family and grief, and the promise of self-discovery in life’s darkest moments. Throughout, she describes her forays into the various methods of overcoming loss – self-help books, psychics, memorials, and therapists. Ultimately, however, her story best illustrates the alienation that death imposes on survivors; even as the world mourns, each of us must grieve alone.