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“Unstitched is riveting, compassionate, topical, and one of the best books I’ve read this year. Stanciu, in beautiful prose, takes on the impact of the opioid epidemic on a small Vermont town with the gusto and suspense of a fine mystery novel, and the empathy that only a truly fine observer of the human condition could muster. Highly recommended.”
— Thomas Christopher Greene, author of The Headmaster’s Wife and The Perfect Liar, Founding President of Vermont College of Fine Arts -
“Unstitched should be mandatory reading. It is a heartbreaking, raw, tender and revelatory look at addiction and its pervasive grip on ourselves, our families, our communities, and our rural towns. It is also a sublimely written narrative of transformation, vulnerability, discovery and love. This book undid me as I read—taking me into the heart of suffering, revealing my own habits, biases and fears—and then it gathered those pieces together and braided them into something new: a vision of hope, connection, possibility and healing for us all. Stanciu’s courage, generosity, curiosity and gorgeous words are the very best of guides.”
— Robin MacArthur, author of Heart Spring Mountain and Half Wild 
Tag Archives: hope
Ceremony.
High school graduation this year is under an enormous white tent, surrounded by the community. Not everyone is pleased with the arrangement — that’s pretty much a given — but the tent looks regal, the weather is magnificent, and, well, … Continue reading
Unfolding, Opening Up
Midday Friday, I’m driving and listening to the Governor’s Friday press conference. For maybe 14 months now, the Governor and his cabinet have answered questions from the press all over Vermont every Tuesday and Friday — with no time limit. … Continue reading
Travels
Saturday, my daughter and I drive through Montpelier, Vermont’s capitol city. I’m in the passenger seat, as I always seem to be these days, while she negotiates intersects. Who has right-of-way? When can you turn right on red? Eventually, she … Continue reading
The Me World V. Context
The May my youngest daughter was born, rain fell every day that month. Day after day of deepening sogginess, the earth drinking up that water. She was born on the very last day of May, and in early June, nibs … Continue reading
May Day
I have my winter tires switched for summers. In the garage, I ask the owner how he is. He leans back in his chair, shrugs, and lifts his hands. I know, I say, but it’s May. It’s spring. He shrugs … Continue reading
A Few Lines
Long before the pandemic, the trees knew how to guard one place with roots and shade. … Now is our time to practice– singing from balconies, sending words of comfort by any courier, hoarding lonesome generosity to shine in all … Continue reading
House Work
I’m not a subscriber to so-called retail therapy, but I’m not averse to paint brightening up my patch of the world, particularly when I’ve chosen a light blue named Innocence. My amusement mystifies my kids, and, honestly, myself, too. A … Continue reading
Signpost
Earth Day gives us snow in Vermont, that poor man’s fertilizer. In a lightly falling snow, I lean against a school building, talking on the phone to my brother while my daughter plays soccer. Snow drifts in flakes about the … Continue reading
Short Visit
A retired man shows up at my job, looking for a little info and then stays to talk, sitting in a chair while I lean against one of the cement posts that hold up the ceiling, and the building overhead. … Continue reading
