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The winner of the Wellcome Book Prize 2015, The Iceberg is an extraordinary memoir which leaves an indelible mark on all who read it.
Marion Coutts is an artist and writer. She wrote the introduction to Tom Lubbock's memoir Until Further Notice, I am Alive, published by Granta in 2012. She is a Lecturer in Fine Art at Goldsmiths College and lives in London with her son.
Deeply affecting and beautifully written. * Literary Review * A perfect piece of writing, it does justice to a terrible situation, giving it grace and even glory. -- Claire Tomalin * The Week * The most heartbreaking memoir of the year... The writing is raw with grief, and offers no pat lessons or easy answers. * Independent on Sunday, Books of the Year * Marion Coutt's memoir of her husband Tom Lubbock's last days following the diagnosis of a brain tumour is as devastating as you might expect. Yet such is the intensity and passion of her writing, it's also strangely exhilarating. * Josh Cohen, The Guardian, Books of the Year * One of the most compelling and challenging books of the year. It has the strength of an arrow: taut, spiked, quivering, working to its fatal conclusion. * The Sunday Times, Books of the Year * Harrowing but spellbinding... communicates in an original, challenging way the changes in her life after her husband, Tom Lubbock, was diagnosed with a brain tumour - well deserves its acclaim. * Guardian, Books of the Year * An almost sculpted account of her and her infant son's endurance as her art critic husband died of a brain tumour: it is grand beyond words. * The Scotsman, Books of the Year * The Iceberg is a depiction of loss so raw it couldn't but melt the coldest of hearts. But Coutts is also something of an alchemist when it comes to language, her prose a uniquely beautiful landscape of emotion. * Independent, Books of the Year * Hey - want to uncontrollably weep your eyes out? Read Marion Coutts describing her husband dying of a brain tumour. * @caitlinmoran * The writing is lyrical, textured, perfectly paced; the sentences short so that we feel Coutts's moments of panic, her quickened heartbeat... [A] startlingly beautiful and inspiring pioneer text * Independent * At times so painful that it's hard to keep reading, this is nonetheless an unexpectedly reassuring book. * Books of the Year, Daily Mail * Searing, shocking, unflinching, profoundly moving. * Spectator * In writer and artist Marion Coutts' unflinching yet uplifting memoir... she becomes a chronicler of what it means to be human. * Financial Times * It is a memoir quite unlike any other. It has the strength of an arrow: taut, spiked, quavering, working to its fatal conclusion... The Iceberg is an extraordinary story told in an extraordinary way. * The Sunday Times * The Iceberg is mesmerising, harrowing and radiant. There are times when to go on reading is almost unbearable, yet it is impossible to put it down. -- Cressida Connolly * Mail on Sunday * Marion Coutts has written a fierce love letter-cum-elegy in The Iceberg... This is far more than just another book about grief. -- Marina Warner * Observer * Readers should be warned that sharing such a grief as closely as this marvellous book compels one to do is painful... This is a book that clearly had to be written... And certainly it ought to be read by anyone who ever pauses to consider our mortality. -- Diana Athill * Sunday Telegraph * Not quite like any other bereavement memoir... it reads like a huge juggernaut, its inevitable awful ending hurtling towards you at full speed from the first page. * Evening Standard * An exquisitely expressed portrait of three lives operating in the shadow of catastrophe... This is human trauma, profoundly and beautifully told. * Independent on Sunday * The book's truth is so pure and compressed, as though Coutts had condensed the coal of her experience into a diamond. Encountering it is like a near-death experience, at once traumatic and profoundly, permanently illuminating. Love itself is in these pages: not a representation of love, but love, pure and simple. The book reeks of it. * New York Times *