WIDOW IN THE CITY

Gabrielle’s bold memoir recalls her first years of widowhood as she searched for redefinition and independence.

Grief takes many forms, and for the author, it expressed itself through a year of sexual discovery, which challenged her self-image and opened new doors for her. In August 2021, her husband of almost 14 years, Steven Harris, died in a hospital, where he was being treated for pneumonia. It had been three years since he’d been diagnosed with incurable cancer and given a prognosis of three to five years to live. Gabrielle spent those three years—including 18 months during the Covid-19 lockdown—emotionally preparing for her spouse’s death, grappling with fear and anticipatory grief. When Steven was gone, the 50-something author was left to raise her 9-year-old neurodiverse son, Henry, on her own. She withdrew into herself and struggled with sorrow, anger, and loneliness. In November, at her brother’s suggestion, she registered with the online dating service Bumble, which introduced her to a new world of intensely sexual matchups. She began purchasing exotic lingerie and roleplaying costumes, including maid and schoolgirl outfits, and explored the depth of her newfound adventurousness. She also took thousands of selfies of herself, experimenting with suggestive and graphic poses, creatively experimenting with lighting and backgrounds. Over the course of this book, Gabrielle shows herself to be a skillful and meticulous storyteller, sharing intimate minutiae about her emotional and physical relationships with several men, including some who were much younger than she was. It’s a revealing memoir, but one that some readers may find uncomfortable at times. For example, she describes a freneticism and neediness that left her prone to highly charged bursts of rage, which would occur, she writes, when the reality of no-commitment liaisons challenged her unrealistic expectations. She insightfully writes of realizing in retrospect that “I threw my love at other men hoping it would eventually stick to someone, and I wouldn’t have time to mourn my dead husband.”

Engaging, personal, and sometimes-disturbing recollections of passion and grief.