Well Enough Alone: A Cultural History of My Hypochondria

Jennifer Traig's Well Enough Alone is a memoir centered around the author's health, a history of the real and perceived sicknesses and syndromes and symptoms that have shaped her life. Traig writes about a childhood soaked in free samples of prescription medications foisted on her father, a physician, about her discomfort with her body and its emanations, about her life as a hypochondriacal college and grad student. She discusses the social joys of food poisoning, the heartbreak of eczema. Her chapters mix memoir with medical information and the occasional health-related historical tidbit (e.g., Abraham Lincoln's final bowel movement is on display in a museum in Baltimore; George Washington's teeth were spring-loaded, so that he was compelled to clench his jaw at all times to keep his mouth shut). The result is a narrative that flows so smoothly you barely notice when it changes direction, from puberty to bat mitzvah to the Talmud to donkey urine, autopsies, the Eucharist, and breasts. A book-length investigation of hypochondria might seem an unlikely vehicle for humor, but Traig's a very funny writer. There's a delightful turn of phrase or two on nearly every page of the book. Most of these I merely appreciated in silence, but a passage in Traig's chapter on the breast reduction surgery she underwent sent me into a sort of hysterical tittering that made the children come running from another room: "When I heard about the 'pencil test'--an assessment of perkiness in which you place a pencil under your breast and pray the breast is not saggy enough to keep the pencil in place--I was eager to see what, besides pencils, my breasts could actually hold. I went from pencils to playing cards to CDs, stopping only after I successfully held up a VHS tape." Traig's pendulous, VHS-holding breasts would eventually be much reduced. The size she selected, after some research, was a 36C: "The end result would be a perky little 36C, a size I'd settled on after spending several weeks staring at women's chests. Friends, relatives, elderly nuns: no one was spared my penetrating gaze. Companions started to avoid going out with me. 'Oh, cut it out, will you?' my best friend pleaded. 'You're embarrassing every woman here. Well, except for the 34B with the graying brush cut, who's mouthing you her phone number.'" Traig is an honest writer--unless she's exaggerating for effect--insofar as she paints herself as a very unlikable person at times. She is immature and abrasive; she drinks too much (or did) and takes (or took) drugs and doesn't practice good dental hygiene; she was highly irresponsible as a teacher when in graduate school. On the other hand, Traig is self-aware and self-condemning, chastising herself for this behavior, which one rather admires. Whatever the childishness of her first several decades, Traig seems well past it now. But while I'm not entirely sure I like the author's persona, the quality of her writing is not in question. Well Enough Alone

Funny,dry,sharp without being in any way sad. I laughed the hypochondria out of my body. I don't know why another review suggested that it was negative for Jennifer to "use an excuse" to talk about herself, isn't that what autobiographical material is all about? I would read anything this author wrote about herself. She's funnier than most authors and is an excellent writer as well. Prepare to laugh and laugh again, this book is worth the read!

I had so much fun reading Jennifer Traig's memoir, I was sorry when it ended. Jennifer has such an exquisite, dry wit you'll find yourself laughing out loud at all of her imagined health crises, perhaps recognizing a bit of yourself in each one. (And I thought I was the only one thinking about Lupus while my classmates were resting their heads during nap time!) Let's hope that when Jennifer does actually go, it's of old age. Wendy Aron, author of Hide & Seek: How I Laughed at Depression, Conquered My Fears and Found Happiness

I had the time of my life reading this book. It's fascinating and informative -- who knew that hypochondria used to be chic? -- but also hilarious. I laughed helplessly more times than I can count. David Sedaris better watch his back!

I just finished reading this book, and I can honestly say it was written with such wit and insight that it made the whole subject of personal and historical hypochondriasis entertaining. (How's that for an opener?) It is almost impossible to believe that someone with such insight into a subject could actually suffer from the symptoms she imagines. As a nurse, I empathized on every page. As a reader, I felt guilty being so gleefully entertained by her experiences. It is hard to find a book that truly is humorous without seeming contrived, and this is one of those rare books. Traiger has the gift of keeping a narrative going - on a fairly limited subject- and never lets the subject gets stale. In fact, the book may be too short because you miss her when the book is over.