"I owe the boldness that I tapped to the poor women in my blood." pg. 59
My grandma, Brenda Joyce, was a big fan of dancing barefoot in the kitchen--especially when Dolly came on. This book felt like talking with her.
Pairs well with too-sweet tea and the song Here You Come Again.
Bewitchingly claustrophobic and uncomfortable, wrapped in a sensuous blanket of sophisticated and eerie prose. Nothing felt real yet Bernstein's perception of the most basic human emotions, most remarkably hate, is simultaneously stunning, horrific, and oddly the most real thing I've ever read.
Charming, intelligent, and emotionally adrift, Casey does her best to navigate life on the other side of 30. An aspiring novelist by day and a waitress by night, she grapples with the recent death of her mother, suffocating student debt, and a tricky love triangle. King’s writing is raw and intimate and her characters beautifully drawn. I came to feel a deep connection to Casey as I read, laughing and crying along with her. I loved this book so much that I tore through it at lightning speed and was then immediately devastated that it was over.
Chanel Miller doesn’t remember being sexually assaulted by Brock Turner because she was unconscious at the time. She does, however, remember all that ensued in the aftermath and in Know My Name she recounts every eviscerating detail. Miller’s story is deeply personal, but it is not unique. She writes beautifully and courageously about the ugly processes that follow her assault: medical exams, trials, therapy, and the struggle she faces to simply get through each day. Constantly barraged with the repercussions of her assault, Miller is unable to forget an event she doesn’t even remember. In revealing her identity—she was previously referred to simply as “Emily Doe”—Miller owns her narrative and proves that victimhood does not make a person powerless.
In January 1969, Harvard graduate student Jane Britton was found murdered in her apartment. Despite several leads, the case was still unsolved when Becky Cooper happened upon it 50 years later. Though she had no training or special connections to speak of, Cooper dedicated the next decade of her life to finding Britton’s killer. Extraordinarily well researched and thoughtfully told, this book has all the thrill and suspense that characterize true crime while managing to steer clear of the sensationalism and insensitivity that often cheapen the genre.
In her journal turned memoir, Ernaux reminds us of the love that lingers and the bittersweetness of being lost and continuously coming into oneself. In classic Annie fashion, Getting Lost is unflinchingly vulnerable and if you're anything like me, you'll devour it in less than 24 hours because you simply know from the first page that she'll punch you in the gut with the last page, and she sure did, so thank you, Annie. She's a goddamned writer, she's a lover, she's a mess like all of us — she's Annie!!!
I hate scary things. I don't get why one would choose to feel fear. But this little book got me. I was mesmerized by the discomfort these stories brought me, in small doses and somehow overwhelmingly. She leans into the eeriness of the everyday and the miniscule uncanniness that lingers in her juicy and transfixing prose. Dávila may have made me less fearful and hesitant of being afraid.
You're bound to fall for this off-kilter, domestic fairytale set in the 1950's. Ingalls' writing is quaintly comedic with bouts of hard-hitting reality which accent its feminist underpinning. Best read in a bath with your forbearing amphibious partner.
For fans of Jen Beagin and Melissa Broder, you'll love this lightning bolt of a book. It bit me, it patted my head, it ran me over, it held my hand. Madievsky writes about drugs, wandering around your early 20's, the unmatched and sometimes dangerous obligation of the sisterly bond, Russian and Jewish heritage, psychics and the sense of believing in something so much; I was entranced.