Sometimes you think you’ve (mostly) fully processed some parts of your life, and then a book like this comes along and reopens wounds that you thought you didn’t have to tend to anymore. I was expecting this to be a quick audiobook in between my planned reads, but it unexpectedly stirred up a lot of things that I didn’t even know it would touch on. If you are thinking of picking this up, please check content warnings and make sure you are in the right headspace to read it.

I will also add a specific warning for those who have experienced psychosis: please be mindful of your own limitations and consider skipping this one if you have to. The psychotic episode the author went through is described in a lot of detail and from a first person perspective: we are in Cho’s head, experiencing the psychotic break with her; there’s no barriers, no safeguards to distance the reader from what’s happening to her. It was quite tough to read through, and I considered DNFing a few times for this reason. Please take care of yourselves, y'all 🫂

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I haven’t read many memoirs, as I find they are often written when the author stills lack clarity on the events they are talking about. They are too recent, too raw; there’s a lot left to process. That wasn’t the case here: even if perfectly clear perspective is impossible when it comes to one's own life, the author has clearly reflected and mostly processed the events she talks about in this book. Her tone is honest and open, and I really appreciated how matter-of-factly she talks about some of the worst, scariest parts of both her life in general and her psychotic break in particular.

The writing is beautiful, but there’s a lack of embellishment here of things like psychosis and child abuse that I found very refreshing, if also very painful. When you go through those kinds of things in your own life, even if they are traumatic and horrible and they sound terrifying to someone who hasn’t experienced them, to you those events have a mundane-like quality that is hard to describe. They are just things that happened, and that you have to process: there are no grandiose hidden meanings or essential life lessons, there are no rewards. It’s just the events and you; it’s the events and their effects on both yourself and those around you. I thought this sentiment was beautifully and sharply expressed in this memoir.

If you can, I highly encourage you to pick this up and hear the author’s story. It’s an honest look into her life, and I found it deeply touching and impactful. She touches on things like intergenerational trauma, child abuse, family, mental health, and so much more with sincerity and simple yet beautiful language. I haven’t really seen this book around much, and I think it deserves a lot more attention than it has gotten. I know at least in my case, Cho's story and the emotions and thoughts it stirred up in me will stay with me for a while.

📱Ebook

This man read one of the most influential short stories written by an incredible Argentine author and thought, “What if I make everyone a white, English-speaking American and then bring it up every other page with no further exploration?”

I can understand why people like this. It's short; there's a kiosk that can give you whatever food you want; and I think humans will always be fascinated by the concept of infinity (or finite numbers so large that there is no real difference between them and infinity). However, this was horribly written. It read like a creative writing assignment you would've written when you were 12 (good for a 12-year-old maybe, but Steven isn't 12). Some of the thoughts shared here were also just…wild:

”My lust seemed to have disappeared as she became a real person and not just a red-headed object with a nice face.” “I dared wonder if I had come to a new part of the library. Perhaps this was where the Chinese were kept! Maybe I could meet an Arab from the fifteenth century!”

The pervasive idea that the fact everyone was white meant that everyone was the same was so bizarre to me. People are still…people—unique individuals with different stories (this story continuously asserted that diversity is dependant on racial diversity. Is he aware that there are more kinds of diversity??). There was so much missing nuance here that, if explored, would've made the story so much better. As is…I thought it kind of sucked. I got way more out of Jorge Luis Borges's 8 pages than I did out of Peck's 73. I've also heard he didn't even get aspects of Zoroastrianism correct, which is the whole basis of the book! I didn't look into this so can't confirm, but it would not surprise me at all.

This is the kind of book that falls into my “certainly written by a man (derogatory)” category.