This month I came to terms with a harsh reality: there are more books in existence than I can possibly read in a lifetime. The sheer number of new releases and advance reader copies stacked on the floor beside my desk foisted this truth upon me. In deciding which memoir to review this week, I’ve had to revisit my original intentions for starting Memoirs with Melissa.
While I enjoy being up-to-date on what’s new in publishing from the Big 5 to independent and small presses, that’s not my primary focus here. My intention in selecting books to bring to my readers is to elevate the canon of human experience—a collection so wide and diverse that you could spend a lifetime exploring. That’s why I make a point to highlight memoirs that teach me something new about humanity as well as stories I wouldn’t have found if it weren’t for an organic, fortuitous connection with an author. Which brings me to this week’s review selection: An Unruled Body, by Ani Gjika.
Gjika’s memoir from Restless Books escapes categorization in its power and unique focus. In relaying the story of her childhood in post-communist Albania and her dysfunctional marriage to a man from India, she paints a larger picture of making peace with and coming home to herself. Readers who’ve lived through a marriage with a secret or a body with a complication will especially appreciate this narrative.
Readers who’ve lived through a marriage with a secret or a body with a complication will especially appreciate this narrative.
The cover image signals a bold and intimate work of art, and the prologue gets right to it. Gjika’s racy, opening scene highlights one of her many strengths: the capacity to write about sexuality with beauty and directness. It’s a skill I most often see in memoirs by queer people—a population that has had to look at their bodies and desires in a way that isn’t laid out for them by existing romantic scripts.
Though Gjika does not identify as queer, she comes into a new country, her marriage, and her sexuality with experiences and influences that make her journey singular. I identify with so much of her poetic prose. I can feel the heady romance embedded in her long-distance relationship in phrases such as “Ishan is like my extended consciousness for a while.” Her reflections on the differences between being watched versus being seen as a woman also resonate deeply.
Gjika’s racy, opening scene highlights one of her many strengths: the capacity to write about sexuality with beauty and directness.
Through both wise and questionable choices, Gjika insists on making them hers alone, free of demands by religion, parental authority, and societal norms. She makes no effort to justify her decisions to the reader and allows herself to meander in her need to get acquainted with her own desires.
My favorite memoirs are rich with symbolism, and Gjika’s does not disappoint. Parallel to the physical challenge of opening her body to receive pleasure and love, she dares herself to open her mouth and speak. In the end, she finds home in her body, which carries her Albanian heritage and even the smell of her mother.
Perhaps the best testament to Gjika’s book is that she renewed my faith in the worth of my own memoir. After more than a year of letting it sit, unsure of how to navigate privacy and legal challenges, I’ve started editing again. Thank you, Ani, for reminding me that we all have a story, and we all have a mouth.
Hear Me and Other Local Authors at JaxbyJax
I’m honored to be included in the 10th anniversary of the JaxbyJax Literary Arts Festival, December 1 - 3, at the FSCJ Kent Campus. This year’s lineup has so much to offer in memoir and creative nonfiction as well as talented local authors in other genres like poetry, fiction, and spoken word.
No matter your genre, if you’re a local writer, take advantage of the free workshops on Sunday, December 3, noon to 3pm. I’ll be teaching memoir and creative nonfiction with Tricia Booker, author of The Place of Peace and Crickets: How Adoption, Heartache, and Love Built a Family and a fabulous roundup of news and musings on Substack. For a taste of her style, read The Swing. Go slowly to be sure not to miss the layers in her work.
My reading is scheduled for Saturday, December 2 at 2:15pm in the Art Gallery (E-112-F). For a taste of my style, check out my recent stories in HuffPost and Salon, and my twice monthly memoir reviews right here on Substack.
More Memoir and Creative Nonfiction Readings
I happen to have read both memoirs by the JaxbyJax featured readers this year. Here’s what to expect.
On Friday, December 1, Nathaniel Glover will read from Striving for Justice: A Black Sheriff in the Deep South. Glover was the sheriff of JSO in the late 90s and early 2000s and has since served as president of Edward Waters College, a private HBCU in Jacksonville. His memoir depicts Ax Handle Saturday through his eyes as a young person simply trying to go home after a day spent washing dishes for work. The racial tensions he navigates through his experience as a young worker and as a rising leader in law enforcement are eye-opening and educational. The values he embodies have a lot to say about how to move our society forward through the continued racial tensions of today.
On Saturday, December 2, Mayor Donna Deegan will read from her memoir Through Rose Colored Glasses: A Marathon from Fear to Love. I especially enjoyed this book earlier in the year when I was training for the Donna Half Marathon and look forward to more inspiration at JaxbyJax as I gear up for the full marathon in February. In addition to Deegan’s mental and physical resilience through multiple occurrences of breast cancer, I admire her flexibility and openness in embracing new ideas. At a time when so much of the world is entrenched in divisiveness and binaries, we could all take a lesson from a woman who has covered more distance than she ever expected.
For a complete list of selected writers with bios and reading times, visit jaxbyjax.com.
Memoirs with Melissa shares twice monthly reviews intended to expose readers to diverse authors and life experiences. I welcome and value every free subscriber. Paid subscriptions are an extra way to support my work in elevating the canon of human experience. Thank you!
I love that you revisited your original intentions and found clarity, Melissa:). You once said, " I can promise that every review I post here is intended to lift up the memoir, its author, and their call to action," and it's clear that you're doing just that.
Sounds like a must-read. Can’t wait to be at JxJ with you. ❤️👏