Mary Cregan remembers periods of interesting sadness, dating all the way back to childhood. The sadness would arrive, and then leave, like bad weather. Mental illness had been a main theme in her family. But Cregan held things together and made her way to Middlebury, graduated Phi Beta Kappa, and found herself married. Then the shit hit the fan. Cregan gave birth--and, within a few days, her baby was dead. And depression stormed in. There was one failed suicide attempt. A period of hospitalization, in which Cregan was inadequately supervised. Cregan's mother--unthinkingly--brought a glass bottle of lotion to the hospital, as a gift to Cregan. A suicide relapse: Cregan broke the bottle, took a shard of glass, and drew it across her neck. But she survived. Miraculously, life improved. There were bouts with ECT. There was heavy medication. Cregan began graduate school; she became a lecturer in English literature. She had a child who lived. When he was sixteen, this kid asked her a...