Does listening to audiobooks count as reading? Here it does. Let’s discuss your favorite reads — or listens.
All tagged memoir
For readers interested in a nuanced look at coming out later in life, particularly in the mid-2000s – a time when acceptance was growing but still fraught with homophobia and fears of ostracism – “The Lie” offers an authentic, if imperfect, reflection.
While the graphic novel was initially intriguing, it felt a bit lacking in depth, particularly considering its length. I also began to question the necessity of Backderf telling this story. He was only a passing acquaintance of Dahmer, so the armchair psychology and hindsight observations felt a tad inflated.
I had put off reading Saeed Jones' "How We Fight For Our Lives" for years, expecting a depressing, harrowing manifesto about the multitude of ways America fails Black men. Let this be a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, because Jones instead offers readers a sometimes funny and relatable exploration of growing up gay.
Hutchinson’s conversational writing style allows readers to connect with his experiences and fill in the blanks with their own. It's a reminder that sometimes you’re simply hiding scabs, but you’re never too old to heal the wound. While not necessarily targeted to young adults, the author – a prolific writer in that genre – uses short, fast-paced chapters that mirror the chaos of his internal life.
While marketed as middle grade, this memoir transcends the young adult genre with its matter-of-fact honesty and subtle lessons about tolerance, faith and perseverance. Just like Scheherazade, Nayeri uses storytelling for survival.
After a choppy start, Edgar Gomez’s engrossing memoir, “High-Risk Homosexual” morphed into an interesting dissection of cultural expectations, acceptance and self-discovery.
For a generation of Millennial readers, the release of Britney Spears’ memoir was a landmark moment: the opportunity for our beloved superstar to say her piece after more than a decade of forced silence. As a lifelong fan, it is difficult for me to be unbiased in my assessment of the narrative crafted with ghostwriter Sam Lansky, so I once again invited my friend Heather to discuss it.
Readers should know this is as much a cautionary tale about Hollywood as it is about not living an authentic life. Sure, there’s celebrity gossip — the juiciest details of which have already been reported in the press — but that’s not why people should read this. Instead, read it to celebrate Page’s courage.
Alison Bechdel’s seminal graphic memoir about coming out and family secrets has been banned in libraries because of its nudity and depictions of consensual sex, but it is an important deconstruction about the ripple effect of code-switching and life in the closet.
Beaton is a phenomenal storyteller, and I was captivated by this memoir and its images from the first page. While she covers heavy topics - gendered violence, rape, drug abuse and death - she also infuses warmth and humor into the pages, which help the reader understand how she survived the ordeal.
These raw and unfiltered memories from Kiese Laymon’s early life in Jackson, Mississippi - roughly pre-teen to mid-20s - left me uncomfortable, frustrated and sad. It’s no wonder this biography is titled “Heavy,” because there is so much weight - metaphorically and physically - that the author has had to carry throughout this life.
Told in three parts — harm, heal and act — Ross uses personal experiences paired with historical context to explain how and why racial progress stalls, and why white men have such a difficult time accepting the fact we have privileges the Black community doesn’t.
You can disagree or dislike decisions Spiegelman made, but you cannot deny that this is a powerful series that needs - no, it demands - to be read, taught and discussed.
It goes without saying this is a heavy read, and I wasn’t in the right head space for it. You can’t give a book like this a negative review, because it’s going to hit you differently depending on where you are in life and what you’re dealing with.
I read this solely out of FOMO. I’m too old to have followed her Nickelodeon career, and I couldn’t have told you who she was prior to the press about this book. All that to say, you don’t need to be a fan to be enthralled.
Throughout, Chesnut is likable and real. I kept thinking he would be a fun guest at a dinner party. If you’re the type of reader that enjoys memoirs exploring the lighter side of life with some heavier elements, this would be a good read for you.
There’s no celebrity gossip or score settling, but we do get an interesting behind-the-scenes view of her time on “Saturday Night Live,” and how she created iconic characters like Mary Catherine Gallagher, Sally O’Malley, Circe Nightshade and Miss Colleen. It was a great nostalgia trip.
While Perry provides commentary on the benefits and detriments of the subjects in the context of shaping public perception of LGBTQIA+ people during the aughts - and her own queerness - most of the essays felt like a Vulture-esque recap of plots and characters.
DiMarco’s Hollywood experiences are secondary to the true intent of the book – the “love letter to a way of life” – which provide a fascinating entry point into learning about the intersectionality of Deafness and queerness, historical and ongoing biases and the resiliency and pride of this community.
I found Maia Kobabe’s exploration of gender, sexuality and pronouns to be informative and well done.
