Mariani, a journalist and former English professor, has grappled with both the psychological burdens of a motherless childhood, raised by “a father who loved my sister and me but who was also aloof and alone, forever at a wraithlike remove,” and the physical malady of chronic fatigue syndrome. Though he tends to linger too often on his own troubles, most of the subjects he profiles in the book have had it worse—e.g., a woman who was raped, two men who were incarcerated, another woman whose personality was transformed by a brain injury, and a man who suffered amputations after an accident. By Mariani’s account, none were strengthened by the experience, at least not at first; instead, they suffered from initial diminishment, people “whose very continuity of self had been ruptured forever.” Yet there is a progression among those whom trauma has forced to live “afterlives.” Not all, but many, experience a strengthening that comes from piecing together the shattered fragments of their former lives. However, is a glass glued after breaking stronger than one unbroken in the first place? The answer is unclear. As Mariani notes, many traumatized people remain vulnerable, a condition that “manifests itself as a heightened exposure to not only concrete physical sequelae like injury and infirmity but also social issues like unemployment, marginalization, and poverty.” All this is less easy to parse than the conventional wisdom that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. The reality, writes the author, is that “our tragedies and traumas saw through the ropes connecting us to what we love, setting us adrift and unmoored in faceless waters oblivious to our suffering.” What remains is to rebuild and reconnect—if that’s possible.