Heather Christle is the author of the poetry collections The Difficult Farm; The Trees The Trees, which won the Believer Poetry Award; What Is Amazing; and Heliopause. Her poems have appeared in the New Yorker, London Review of Books, Poetry and many other journals. She teaches creative writing at Emory University in Atlanta. The Crying Book is her first book of non-fiction.

'Luminous. . . A literary lachrymatory, both consoling and surprisingly uplifting' Hephzibah Anderson, ObserverHeather Christle has just lost a dear friend to suicide and now must reckon with her own depression and the birth of her first child. As she faces her grief and impending parenthood, she decides to research the act of crying: what it is and why people do it, even if they rarely talk about it. Along the way, she discovers an artist who designed a frozen-tear-shooting gun and a moth that feeds on the tears of other animals. She researches tear-collecting devices (lachrymatories) and explores the role white women's tears play in racist violence.Honest, intelligent, rapturous and surprising, Christle's investigations look through a mosaic of science, history, and her own lived experience to find new ways of understanding life, loss, and mental illness. The Crying Book is a deeply personal tribute to the fascinating strangeness of tears and the unexpected resilience of joy.'Poised and precise. . . [The Crying Book] reminds us - when we need it most - that we move in relationship rather than invidivual adventure, that the tender connections between our tears are all we really have to hold' Rachel Andrews, Irish Times'There are beautifully realised moments of heart-stopping vulnerability when you think Christle will unravel. But then she staunches her tears and tends to her broken soul . . . Like consciousness, Christle contends, crying lies at the heart of being self-aware' Marina Benjamin, New Statesman'Christle's background as a poet informs her use of pattern and juxtaposition to generate meaning from her wide-ranging research, and the result is a thoughtful, often moving rumination on the expression of emotions beyond the reach of language' The New Yorker