Bailey watched intently as the creature began to explore its new environment. The snail entered her life by chance when a visiting friend potted a violet and brought it to her, including the snail that had been sitting beneath its leaves. In this quiet but moving debut, essayist Bailey chronicles a year during which her fascination with the simple life of a snail kept isolation at bay and gave purpose to her life.Īt age 34, the author was struck by a neurological disorder while vacationing in the Alps, and her condition rapidly deteriorated as her autonomic nervous system became dysfunctional: “all functions not consciously directed… had gone haywire.” In order to receive care, she was moved from the Maine farmhouse where she had lived with her dog to a bare, one-room studio apartment where she was isolated from friends and family.
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