'There is a twilight zone between illness and health, and that's where I dwell' An ache, a pain, a mysterious lump, a strange sensation in some part of your body, the feeling that something is not right. The fear that something is, in fact, very wrong. These could be symptoms of illness. But they could also be the symptoms of hypochondria - an enigmatic condition that might be physiological or psychological or both. In this landmark book, Caroline Crampton tells the story of hypochondria, beginning in the age of Hippocrates and taking us right through to the wellness industry today. Along the way, we encounter successive generations of doctors positing new theories, as well as quacks selling spurious cure-alls to the desperate. And we meet those who have suffered with conditions both real and imagined, including Moliere, Darwin, Woolf, Freud, Larkin, and Proust whose symptoms and sensitivities gradually narrowed his life to the space of his cork-lined bedroom. Crampton also examines the gendered nature of the medical response, the financial and social factors at play, and the ways in which modern technology simultaneously feeds our fears and holds out the promise of relief. Drawing on Crampton's own experience of surviving a life-threatening disease only to find herself beset by almost constant anxiety about her health, A Body Made of Glass explores part of the landscape of illness that most memoirs don't reach: the territory beyond survival or cure, where body and mind seem locked in a strange and exhausting kind of dance. The result is both a fascinating cultural history of hypochondria and a moving account of what it means to live with this invisible, illusive and increasingly wide-spread condition.

Raised on its banks and an avid sailor, Caroline Crampton sets out to rediscover the enigmatic pull of the Thames by following its course from the river's source in a small village in Gloucestershire, through the short central stretch beloved of Londoners and tourists alike, to the point where it merges with the North Sea. As she navigates the river's ever-shifting tidal waters, she seeks out the stories behind its unique landmarks, from the vast Victorian pumping stations that carried away the capital's waste and the shiny barrier that holds the sea at bay, to the Napoleonic-era forts that stand on marshy ground as eerie relics of past invasions. In spellbinding prose, she reveals the histories of its empty warehouses and arsenals; its riverbanks layered with Anglo-Saxon treasures; and its shipwrecks, still inhabited by the ghosts of the drowned. The Way to the Sea is at once a fascinating portrait of an iconic stretch of water and a captivating introduction to a new voice in British non-fiction.