Author: Kendra Winchester

Incredible memoirist Melissa Febos writes about crafting a personal narrative. She examines the way telling one’s own story can be deeply psychologically impactful. How does a writer wrap their own mind around their life to be able to share that story with others? Each chapter tackles a different consideration that goes behind writing personal essays and memoirs, giving readers a sort of master class in this area of writing. I found Febos’ perspective on writing personal narratives incredibly insightful. I kept underlining so many different quotes from the book. She gives advice for how to examine your life and figure out which stories to share to best tell your own story. This book is perfect for anyone wanting to improve their own writing, whether that’s just journaling or writing their own memoir.

When Julia Lee was in high school, she witnessed the riots in L.A. Her parents owned a business in a predominantly Black neighborhood. After the white police officers were acquitted of the beating of Rodney King, Lee realized that even though she wasn’t white, she still possessed a type of racial privilege. This experience informs her interest in examining race in literature. Her parents are also working class immigrants, and Lee didn’t grow up with much, but she ends up attending an Ivy League school, where her working class background has never been more apparent to her. Biting the Hand is an intersectional look at Lee’s experience growing up and living as an Asian American woman in the United States. Each essay takes on the topic from a different angle as Lee examines both her experience as a multi-marginalized person who, at the same time, holds a lot of privilege in different areas of her life.

We have all probably guessed that science is biased against women, but I never realized how truly bad it was until I read Saini’s book. For centuries, scientists have viewed women as the “inferior sex,” and this perspective caused them to come up with a lot of ridiculous scientific theories about women’s bodies. I don’t think any of us will be able to forget that men used to think that women’s uterus roamed their bodies. Saini also dives into scientific research and how using men as the “default test subject” has harmed women over and over through the years. There’s a section about how drug companies exclusively used men when testing new medications, meaning they had no data on how their drug might affect women’s bodies. Admittedly, I rage read this book as I learned more ghastly facts about these ridiculous men. But Saini also leaves us with hope, discussing how more women are entering scientific fields and changing the way that science understands and studies women.

When Abby Norman starts having intense pelvic pain, she’s quickly diagnosed with endometriosis. But even with a diagnosis, her doctors don’t understand why she’s still having intense symptoms. So Norman begins to research her own condition, asking her doctors to consider the research she finds. As Norman shares her experience, she also presents readers with her research, describing the findings she’s discovered while researching endometriosis. Despite the condition being fairly common, doctors still know very little about endometriosis and there’s never enough funding to research to learn more about the disease. As someone who also has had very similar experiences, I deeply connected with this book. Far too often, women are forced to do their own research. We have to visit doctor after doctor, hoping to find that one physician who treats us like human beings, not just problems to be fixed.

Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia collects a chorus of voices from Indigenous writers from across the Australian continent. Australia was founded on the rule of terra nullius, or no man’s land, the colonialist idea that the Indigenous peoples had no claim to the land before the settlers arrived. The law wasn’t overturned until the High Court of Australia’s Mabo decision in 1992. And the idea of terra nullius has echoed through the lives of the Indigenous peoples for generations, still greatly impacting them on a daily basis. The writers from this anthology illustrate the many ways Aboriginal peoples live on the continent with their different Native nations and background.

This anthology’s writers are from Australian LGBTQ+ communities, and features a diverse group full of many different sexual orientations and gender identities. Each essay depicts the lives of many different people who came out early in life or later in life. There are people from the country and people from the city. I really appreciated how Law wanted to feature so many different intersections of identity.

E.J. Koh grew up with her grandparents in the U.S. while her parents moved back to Korea to work and send money to their kids. Koh received letters from her mother written in Korean. In the Magical Language of Others is written while Koh is translating her mother’s letters and processing her relationship with her parents who she didn’t see for long stretches of time. Koh has a way of bringing the reader into her state of mind and the intimate process of trying to find a way to communicate with her mother through language and cultural barriers.

Mallory O’Meara tells the story of Milicent Patrick, one of the designers who worked on the monster design for The Creature of the Black Lagoon. O’Meara describes the early years of Patrick’s Hollywood career, giving us a picture of what it was like to be a woman working in the movie industry during the middle of the 19th century. As we learn more of the prospects of women monster costume designers at the time, we also gain more perspective on Hollywood as a whole, delving into the weird career politics happening at the time. I’m usually not interested in the history of Hollywood, but I enjoyed learning more about classic monster costume design and how it developed throughout the 20th century.

The moment I read the description of Erica Berry’s new book, Wolfish: Wolf, Self, and the Stories We Tell About Fear, I knew I needed to read it. Berry frames her look at wolves as symbols of human fear with the story of OR-7, a famous wolf that roamed through Oregon. She expertly ties together her ideas with the wolf, delving into everything from fairytales to her own story as a woman living in a male-centered world. I found myself consumed by this book, exploring Berry’s different ideas, each chapter building upon the last. It’s such a lush, multi-genre book, full of insightful observations and excellent storytelling.

In honor of Nicole Chung’s second memoir coming out this week, I’d thought we’d look at her first book, All You Can Ever Know. Chung grew up as a Korean American adoptee with white parents. Chung’s parents loved her deeply and thought that love was enough. But as she grew, Chung began to realize that her parents didn’t understand what it was like to be Asian American in their mostly-white town. Chung describes her journey, untangling the many threads of her family history and how she came to be given up for adoption. Her experience causes her to think more about the wider world of private adoption and the many problems within the industry. Her writing is direct as she openly describes the complication of loving her parents while also knowing there could have been a lot of things done better about her upbringing as an interracial adoptee. All You Can Ever Know is a stunning memoir that opens up a conversation about private and interracial adoption in America.

Elisabeth Tova Bailey found herself bedridden, and doctors had no idea what was going on. So went her year, and she spent most of it having to lay completely still. This stillness made time seem to pass more slowly. In disabilities studies, we call this “crip time,” which just refers to how disabled people can experience time differently. Bailey found herself watching the small world around her, eventually noticing that a snail had made itself a home in one of her potted plants. She found herself mesmerized by the comings and goings of her new friend. Bailey shares with readers how she was grateful for this part of her experience being bedridden. She found herself noticing the wonders of the natural world she wouldn’t have seen otherwise. As someone who is often stuck in bed or on the couch, I appreciated Bailey’s take on this and found myself following Bailey’s lead and appreciating my surroundings.

I love a good essay collection! And as a long-time resident of the South, I’m always looking for new perspectives on the complex region I call home. Anjali Enjeti writes about her experiences living as a South Asian American woman in the South. When people not from the region think of the South, they often have a lot of assumptions. Enjeti tackles a lot of the stereotypes of folks in the South, and writes about the dangers of white feminism, the rise of Christian Nationalism, and the difficulties of organizing in the South. Her essays are so insightful, inviting readers to examine the South in a new way.

From the moment I heard Vicki Laveau-Harvie’s voice reading the audiobook of The Erratics, I knew I was listening to something really special. Laveau-Harvie’s debut novel came out in her late 70s, and she won the prestigious Stella Prize for best book. Her memoir centers on a time when Laveau-Harvie travels from Australia back to Canada to care for her parents after her mother has a horrible fall. When Laveau-Harvie leaves her mom in the hospital to go take care of her dad back at the family home, she discovers that her father has been neglected. It seems that her mother was starving him. Caring for her father stirs up so many childhood memories that she’d rather stay locked away. As she describes her time with her parents and key memories from her childhood, readers can’t help but be swept away by her prose. And in the Australian edition of the audiobook, Laveau-Harvie reads her story herself. She’s an incredible narrator, with such a dry wit and dark sense of humor. This is such an unknown gem of a book.

Carly Findlay was born with a rare skin condition called Ichthyosis, which causes her skin to appear red and inflamed. Findlay grew up with doctors constantly poking and prodding her. She was paraded in front of doctors who marveled over her rare condition, often making her feel like an animal in a zoo. Other kids, and their parents, responded horribly to Findlay just trying to live her life at school and in her community. Through all of this she wished that people would quit staring at her. She wanted them to just introduce themselves and say hello. Findlay, who is an incredible disability rights advocate from Australia, has worked tirelessly to promote and support disabled people, particularly by raising awareness for people with facial differences. I really appreciate Findlay sharing her story with the world, and I will treasure her memoir always.