This slim volume chronicles Reynolds Price's four years with ``the eel,'' his name for the ten-inch long tumor that was found enmeshed in his spinal chord during his 51st year. With little fanfare or self-pity, the acclaimed author (Blue Calhoun, 1992; Kate Vaiden, 1986; etc.) and long-time teacher at Duke University takes the reader through each battle, medical and personal, from the ordeal of his initial and incomplete surgery to the debilitating effects of the ensuing radiation therapy, which left him paraplegic. He lavishes praise on nurses, therapists, and loyal friends along the way, while condemning unthinking doctors for their ignorance of the human element in practicing medicine. And he thanks the worthy; the book is dedicated, in part, to his surgeon. A particularly moving segment in its honesty and courage (although Price might very well deny the latter) is his struggle through rehab, ``a marooned island of damaged men and women intent on bringing ourselves to a state of repair that would let us visit the mainland again.'' Throughout, Price mixes facts from his calendar—mostly records of his pain level and physical descent- -with poems from his daybook. These verses allow the reader to touch the emotional river coursing beneath the narrative that the author works so hard to keep objective. Ultimately, there is something comforting about this book and, yes, inspiring. The eel is removed and Price learns to negotiate his pain. He returns to writing and teaching with a greater intensity than ever before. This is the story of a man who watches his first self die, and in place of it, a new self created; a story of resurrection, of transformation; a story of hope.