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vtlism's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.5
The writing and topics are perfection. I enjoyed most of the topics, especially those of gender and mental health.
theillegiblevirgo's review against another edition
5.0
this was the memoir i needed to feel like it's possible to go on. sharing so many identities with the author makes it sit in a way no other memoir has. their considerations of madness, gender, worth, and hope resonate so deeply. while they challenge map making in the process, i think it's a beautiful constellation and map of their walk to the present. my favorite letter was probably "anointing | dear ann." i'm excited to return to it and see where i'm at then and how i'm consideration my walk.
someone read it and saw exactly how it it in conversation with my own work. high compliment.
someone read it and saw exactly how it it in conversation with my own work. high compliment.
nordstina's review against another edition
emotional
slow-paced
4.0
Akwaeke Emezi is such a unique and memorable writer. I have enjoyed their previous works of fiction (looking forward to their new one!), so was curious on what a memoir would be like. The format of this memoir is a series of letters that they write to others (sometimes it's clear who that person is to them, other times it isn't). They are incredibly vulnerable throughout the memoir and touch on their relationship with their family, experiences in the publication industry (really appreciated the transparency), education, gender identity, and spirituality. Some of the areas overlap with the main character in their first novel Freshwater (my favorite book of theirs), and multiple letters touch on their experience with writing, publishing, and the reception of that novel. They touch on their experiences with love and mental illness, which are incredibly raw and vulnerable. Even if not all the topics they touch on are of interest, this memoir was a big swing and unique and I really appreciated its openness.
bubblegumcreams's review against another edition
5.0
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I review this book in this video: RAVING about my fave poetry book, 2 other faves, & 14 other books ✨ (not so) recent reads...
I review this book in this video: RAVING about my fave poetry book, 2 other faves, & 14 other books ✨ (not so) recent reads...
thecozyarchivist's review against another edition
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
fast-paced
5.0
Absolutely one of the best memoirs I've ever read. Akwaeke Emezi is a true master of writing, and this was such a unique memoir. Each chapter is a letter they've written to someone they know, sometimes it's a friend or family member, other times it's someone no longer in their life. The book mostly focuses on their life leading up to the publishing of their first novel and the depression and disabling health issues they've faced throughout their life. It was just so incredibly good. I highly recommend reading this one on audio because Akwaeke narrates the book and it feels so intimate.
northernbiblio's review against another edition
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
5.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Violence, Suicidal thoughts, and Gore
tigerlillymelody's review against another edition
For such a book that defies boundaries it feels almost improper to rate it. I will say this book deeply challenges me in ways that few books often do. I fluctuated between relation and alienation, admiration and discomfort, understanding and confusion.
mxunsmiley's review against another edition
Where to begin? This book fulfilled all of my expectations and more. I have some qualms with it, but nevertheless, it was a great dive into a very unique person and writer.
Emezi's work is some of my favorite of contemporary writers and writers I've read in general. I knew little about them before reading this memoir, mostly because I feel that distance from artists' private lives and thoughts can sometimes save you the agony of reading their work while having a sour taste in your mouth because, after all, artists are human (different in Emezi's case, though), and they may do or say things you disagree with. While that shouldn't dissuade you from enjoying their work--unless they're an outright fascist of course--it can still be difficult.
With Emezi, however, I feel like a lot of their work has come into its proper context. It was really fascinating to read the backstory behind their debut and even my favorite work of theirs, Pet, which apparently was written in 2 months (2 fucking months!) and out of necessity, not inspiration.
Some concepts I felt really resonated with me were their thoughts on authenticity and duality, the validity of which may be futile to consider. Their letter about masks made me reconsider just how true it is that they're commonly seen to be things of deception, rather than different facets of the self. The theme of duality is also a big undercurrent of the work, with how Emezi grapples with being an ogbanje while also desiring so much of the human world and believing they deserve it in all its entirety. I thought it was confusing at first, because how can you assert that you are dead and longing to return to the world you belong to while also maintaining that you are so hungry for life? Then I brought it into perspective--how perhaps those two truths, their duality, don't have to contradict one another.
One topic I really want to become a wide and open discussion is what they offered about diversity and representation. They don't call out either outright but they do make a remark on whether that is what we should settle for in fiction--"wanting to be seen," which is often what is given to be the reason for diversity and representation. One of their letters addresses this, how it was a struggle to find a publisher for their debut, Freshwater, because it didn't rely on such a thing, this reliance on an African identity and the journey to overcome the barriers which accompany it. We also have the problem of thoughtless representation, because if all one wants it to be seen, what does it matter if it's shallow? Yet Emezi maintains that we must try to break genres, subvert expectations, even challenge the greats of canon who are considered to be untouchable (often white men). That is what fiction should be, and it must be an option for nonwhite writers as well, they shouldn't have to be tied down to the checklist of "diversity."
One thing that bothered me so much was how they repeatedly said they were a god, in those words exactly, or made reference to it in a way that made me think "Oh, here they go again." I don't mind the references to this, I just would've preferred it to be in a way that was less direct.
Emezi calls themself arrogant, and while I wouldn't use a term with such negative connotations, they are indeed very proud, in a world where they are expected to be subservient and humble. It's then certainly a marvel that they expose themself so readily in this memoir. At the same time, they really don't come across as fragile. They do make questionable decisions, but I think it goes back to what they say about Toni Morrison's work, how she doesn't tell you how to feel about the actions of their characters--just presents them. I am still a bit puzzled as to what Emezi wanted to accomplish with this memoir; I probably need to think about it more. I'm not saying it was a mistake, or worthless, because I definitely would recommend this to both readers of their work and those who want to be challenged by a perspective which would very readily be seen as superstitious and outlandish, to challenge their own notions of what it means to "be" in this world. I just feel very confused as to the intent, but I ultimately don't think it matters when I say I am very happy to have read it and learned more about Emezi and their work.
Emezi's work is some of my favorite of contemporary writers and writers I've read in general. I knew little about them before reading this memoir, mostly because I feel that distance from artists' private lives and thoughts can sometimes save you the agony of reading their work while having a sour taste in your mouth because, after all, artists are human (different in Emezi's case, though), and they may do or say things you disagree with. While that shouldn't dissuade you from enjoying their work--unless they're an outright fascist of course--it can still be difficult.
With Emezi, however, I feel like a lot of their work has come into its proper context. It was really fascinating to read the backstory behind their debut and even my favorite work of theirs, Pet, which apparently was written in 2 months (2 fucking months!) and out of necessity, not inspiration.
Some concepts I felt really resonated with me were their thoughts on authenticity and duality, the validity of which may be futile to consider. Their letter about masks made me reconsider just how true it is that they're commonly seen to be things of deception, rather than different facets of the self. The theme of duality is also a big undercurrent of the work, with how Emezi grapples with being an ogbanje while also desiring so much of the human world and believing they deserve it in all its entirety. I thought it was confusing at first, because how can you assert that you are dead and longing to return to the world you belong to while also maintaining that you are so hungry for life? Then I brought it into perspective--how perhaps those two truths, their duality, don't have to contradict one another.
One topic I really want to become a wide and open discussion is what they offered about diversity and representation. They don't call out either outright but they do make a remark on whether that is what we should settle for in fiction--"wanting to be seen," which is often what is given to be the reason for diversity and representation. One of their letters addresses this, how it was a struggle to find a publisher for their debut, Freshwater, because it didn't rely on such a thing, this reliance on an African identity and the journey to overcome the barriers which accompany it. We also have the problem of thoughtless representation, because if all one wants it to be seen, what does it matter if it's shallow? Yet Emezi maintains that we must try to break genres, subvert expectations, even challenge the greats of canon who are considered to be untouchable (often white men). That is what fiction should be, and it must be an option for nonwhite writers as well, they shouldn't have to be tied down to the checklist of "diversity."
One thing that bothered me so much was how they repeatedly said they were a god, in those words exactly, or made reference to it in a way that made me think "Oh, here they go again." I don't mind the references to this, I just would've preferred it to be in a way that was less direct.
Emezi calls themself arrogant, and while I wouldn't use a term with such negative connotations, they are indeed very proud, in a world where they are expected to be subservient and humble. It's then certainly a marvel that they expose themself so readily in this memoir. At the same time, they really don't come across as fragile. They do make questionable decisions, but I think it goes back to what they say about Toni Morrison's work, how she doesn't tell you how to feel about the actions of their characters--just presents them. I am still a bit puzzled as to what Emezi wanted to accomplish with this memoir; I probably need to think about it more. I'm not saying it was a mistake, or worthless, because I definitely would recommend this to both readers of their work and those who want to be challenged by a perspective which would very readily be seen as superstitious and outlandish, to challenge their own notions of what it means to "be" in this world. I just feel very confused as to the intent, but I ultimately don't think it matters when I say I am very happy to have read it and learned more about Emezi and their work.