What do you love most about your memoir?

I love the idea that it might prompt other people to think deeply about their own reading habits, and perhaps go back to some of the books that shaped them. Maybe it’s the teacher in me, but if any readers of Bibliophobia go back and reread at least one of the books that’s changed the way they think or feel, I’ll be happy.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

I hope that it will reach anyone who has ever regarded how they read with some curiosity and suspicion—that is to say, anyone who ever wonders why they are driven to read and/or write, and questions what might drive us to look for comfort or sometimes discomfort outside our own lives. Not everyone will have read all the books I’ve written about here, but I think anyone who’s been truly changed by a book will have their own version of this experience.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

I wrote three sections of what would become Bibliophobia in a mad rush, two of which remain in the book, and just didn’t feel like I could stop. It had been a long time since I’d been able to write anything, then all of a sudden it was like a dam had burst. It felt almost compulsive at first, and when I tried to go back and work on the soon-to-be-abandoned academic book I was writing, the flow of writing just dried up again. It was clear then that this was the only book I could write in that moment, even if there were other things I was supposed to be doing, and it was futile to try and do anything else.

Read our starred review of ‘Bibliophobia’ by Sarah Chihaya. 

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

To write the chapter on Ruth Ozeki, “A Tale for the Non-Being,” I really had to go back to the moment of my mental health crisis and relive it. This involved tracing every step of a very significant long walk that literally put me back in a place I’d been trying to avoid thinking about for a while. I knew when I set out to do it that it would be painful, but it really brought back specific memories I didn’t know I had. I think it was more necessary than I realized it would be for my own healing process, and I wouldn’t have done it if the book hadn’t made me.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

I hadn’t realized how much I rely on humor as a way of getting through hard things; I always thought I made jokes to make it easier on others, but they are really to make sense of things to myself. Writing and revising this book really made me see how much I have made light of some aspects of my past that I actually needed to confront head-on. That being said, sometimes life is ridiculous, even or especially at its most extreme moments, and some degree of levity is the only thing that can carry you on, whether the reader or the writer.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

Writing this book—the story of my reading life to this point, which is to say, my whole life—has made me feel able to think about writing other things in the future. I feel more at liberty to experiment in different genres and subjects, almost as though I needed to do this in order to grant myself permission to write about topics beyond books themselves. I think I still had a lot of academic hang-ups when I started Bibliophobia about what one was “allowed” to write, which had to do with expertise and earning your way into a topic or form. I don’t think these anxieties are totally resolved—maybe they will never be—but I feel more able to let myself entertain ideas I didn’t think I was ready to tackle before, like fiction.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

Since finishing the book, I’ve been really amazed by how much it’s helped me gain perspective on my own life—which seems so obvious writing a memoir, but I really didn’t go into this project expecting it to be a memoir, or feeling like clarity was possible at all. It’s been really useful and revelatory to talk to both friends and strangers who have read it, and who have their own answers to questions I’ve been wrestling with alone for so long. Elements that felt so close and so raw in the moment of writing now feel farther away, as if writing were a way to look at myself from the outside, not coldly, but hopefully more clearly.

It’s been really useful and revelatory to talk to both friends and strangers who have read it, and who have their own answers to questions I’ve been wrestling with alone for so long.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

For sure it was the history of Anne of Green Gables in Japan, which was a cultural phenomenon I simply never thought to ask about before. I am obsessed with Canadian World, the now-defunct Anne theme park in Hokkaido, and I desperately want to visit it (it’s become a municipal park). I was also really moved by the research I did into the life of Anne’s creator, Lucy Maud Montgomery, which is both incredibly tragic and inspiring. I sought comfort in her books for so many years, never wondering what her life was really like, and even the smallest glimpse into it really shook up my understanding of her work in both the Anne books and the Emily of New Moon trilogy.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

I think Bibliophobia is actually like an after-dinner drink: something to help you digest everything you’ve read before. Ideally, you’d sit and linger with it, as you think about what came before it. And there are more cigarettes in it than I’d realized, so like a good Scotch, it’s very smoky.

Photo of Sarah Chihaya by Beowulf Sheehan.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir?

Well, I am probably biased, but I think that the narrative really moves; I’ve been told by some early readers that it has that “can’t put it down” quality. I spent a lot of time thinking about what details did and did not need to stay in the story, in order to give the reader the most compelling experience. As I refined the first draft, I could see where certain digressions or explanations were only compelling to me, and I think I made good choices that will keep the reader’s eyes on the page.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

I think this book has a number of targeted reader-types. Fans of memoir as a genre will enjoy this one, which I think is funny, surprising and honest. Fans of Anthony Bourdain will be interested in my experiences as his assistant and co-author. People who like to cook and travel are in for a treat. Anyone who has attended cooking school and/or worked in the food service or hospitality industry will see their experiences reflected here. People who have wrestled with changing standards of workplace behavior, especially around sexual harassment, will find a lot to chew on. People who have struggled with addiction, or know someone who has, will ideally feel seen and heard when reading this book. People who have struggled in their relationships, or with the early days of parenting, or with the long-term illness of a parent, will all find a lot to relate to.

Read our review of ‘Care and Feeding’ by Laurie Woolever.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

After the death of Tony Bourdain, while I was simultaneously working on World Travel and Bourdain: The Definitive Oral Biography, I had occasion to reflect on my career. I was newly divorced and sober and grieving the loss of my boss and mentor, and taking stock of how I’d gotten to that point. A decade ago, I wrote an essay about all the jobs I’d had since college, and that got such a strong response that I knew there was a lot of pleasure and insight to be gleaned by building a narrative around my work life, which so often bled into my personal life.

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

I sometimes behaved badly in my relationship with my ex-husband, and that’s a tough thing to document honestly on the page. It’s a private and painful situation, and I worked hard to strike a balance between telling a compelling story and protecting his privacy. There was a moment when we were breaking up when he said, “You’d better not be writing about this.” Bearing that in mind, I endeavored to treat him gently and with kindness in the narrative, because the fault was all mine.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

I was lucky to have the experience that I’ve heard other writers talk about, wherein writing in a loose, stream-of-consciousness style for the first draft sometimes unearthed new insights and new ways of understanding an old experience. This was especially true as I wrote about my dealings with men. In the moment, I was only focused on immediate gratification, but in writing about my various boyfriends and flings, I could see patterns to which I had previously been oblivious.

“I was newly divorced and sober and grieving the loss of my boss and mentor, and taking stock of how I’d gotten to that point.”

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

I feel great, honestly. I’ve co-authored a number of books, but writing a book as a solo author has been a lifelong ambition. I’ve been buoyed by early reactions and I am eager to launch the book into the wider world, where I sincerely believe it will resonate with all kinds of readers.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

I am fundamentally the same person I was when I started writing it, but I think that I have a perspective on the events described in the narrative that’s both deeper and broader than when I started. I’ve also realized over the course of writing and editing it, and now starting to promote it, that the writing itself held so much pleasure. I used to drive toward the finish line and only feel satisfied on publication day. I know now that every part of the process is a reward.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

It wasn’t so much research as recall, but I found it fascinating and surprising to get back into the course materials from culinary school. That education was much more rigorous and traditional than I’d remembered. I also went deep into the processes involved in Guinness World Record attempts, Judy Garland’s hometown and the fates of various actors who played munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

Care and Feeding is itself a tasting menu, delivering a full meal that’s been carefully calibrated with just enough comedy, pathos, thrill, horror, gossip and actual food.

Photo of Laurie Woolever by David Scott Holloway.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir?

With The Trouble of Color complete, my husband will no longer question my habit of saving family mementos. He’d been the one to pack and repack them each time we moved! I’m joking, of course, because he has always been supportive, coming along on my research adventures. It is more accurate to say that I love how this book created a home for the photos, reminiscences, letters and souvenirs I’d collected. It is a practice begun as a small child, when my grandmother began mailing me keepsakes. I love how the book has given these things a purpose by letting them tell a new story about an American family, about who we call kin and how that can change across generations.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

The Trouble of Color is for readers eager for a journey of discovery: of the self, of what it means to be family and how the color line has shaped us. If you have been misapprehended, mistaken or misunderstood for someone you are not, this book is for you. If the look of your very person confounds, confuses or provokes others, this book is for you. If you have been rebuffed, wounded or dismissed along the color line, this book is for you. If you’ve ever felt discomfort when checking a box, filling a blank or choosing a side, this book is for you. If you’ve heard that your family is too complicated, too out of bounds, confused or contradictory, this book is for you. For everyone, The Trouble of Color is an invitation to reflect deeply on their own family stories.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

I’ve collected family memories for a long time. But I only knew I might have enough for a book when I uncovered the story of my great-great-great grandmother, Nancy. She was born a slave in 1808 Danville, Kentucky, and no one in our family had spoken much about her. I stumbled onto the details of her life in the pages of some old, dusty account ledgers, and I could see how she was at the start of a book that stretched out across generations, all the way to me. I wrote The Trouble of Color with her portrait at my shoulder, hanging next to my desk, and always felt sure that Nancy would be pleased to know that I had put her and her descendants’ lives on the page.

If you have been rebuffed, wounded or dismissed along the color line, this book is for you.

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

I knew I would have to confront my father’s life, including his troubled times. As a girl, I had heard his stories. But as a memoirist, I had to confront raw details: As a young man, more than once he’d barely escaped a tragic end. I wrote and rewrote those passages many times, wanting to be both honest and compassionate. I rooted for him, held my breath when he faltered and discovered that I could understand and even love him, despite his shortcomings. But to get there, I first had to face things that our family rarely talked about.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

I grew up thinking that my parents, who wed in 1957, were the first couple in our family to marry across the color line. They were not, I discovered. Long before couples like them tested their right to marry as part of the Civil Rights generation, men and women together defied so-called anti-miscegenation laws and legally wed. This was true 130 years earlier for my great-great grandparents, Elijah and Mary Jones. In 1827 they fooled a North Carolina county clerk long enough to get a license and say “I do,” even if the law barred him, a free man of color, from marrying her, a white woman. My parents were not outlaws—they were part of a family tradition.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

I feel like I’ve stepped into a new world. For two decades, my reading and writing life had been dominated by history and related scholarship. I love that work and the discoveries it has led me to. But historical writing does not very often invite us to put our imaginations, our dreams, our fears and ourselves on the page. Reading memoir has taught me a new way of thinking about the past and of explaining it in very personal terms. Writing memoir has given me the freedom to share not only what happened in the past. It has allowed me to discover how it feels to know that past and also live its inheritance. I feel excited for readers to know me in this new way.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

I found a new sense of humor while writing The Trouble of Color. I haven’t always found moments in which people misread me and my skin color to be funny. Mostly those were painful scenes. But I learned about my great-grandmother Fannie and her “passing” in downtown St. Louis. She was oftentimes amused when her skin fooled the eyes of department store clerks or train conductors. She shopped and traveled like a white woman when she chose to and, like many a trickster, enjoyed every moment of the farce. Only today, knowing Fannie better, am I also bemused by the misunderstanding that my color invites: People assume I am who I am not. Like Fannie did, I can now see the absurdity in that and laugh, at least to myself.

Read our starred review of ‘The Trouble of Color’ by Martha S. Jones.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

To write about my parents’ lives as suburban activists, I had to go back there, literally. When my memories failed, I returned to my hometown public library where they keep the only run of our weekly newspaper, the Port Washington News. Talk about going back in time: There I was, doing research in the place where, as a girl, I checked out books and studied after school. I was greeted by my junior high social studies teacher, now retired and a library volunteer, and spent days reading issue after issue, gingerly turning the brittle pages. I unearthed tidbits about my parents’ lives and more. I sometimes think there are stories for a next book about my own growing up waiting for me there.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

The Trouble of Color is like a side of greens. Mine are made from improvisation and with love. There’s the sweetness of onions. Heat of pepper flakes. Savor of a smoked ham hock. Bitterness of greens: collards, mustard, chard and beet. Next, laborious prep. Rinse and soak the leaves. Repeat. Tear the tender parts from the stems. Keep the stringy bits for flavor. Magic happens when the greens hit the brew of stock, vinegar and hot sauce: wilting down to a thick, rich stew. Greens are great that first day, but let them sit. The jelly collects. The pot liquor thickens. They taste better than the day before. My greens are like family: contrasting ingredients, labor in the making, transformation in the cooking and always changing with goodness that lasts.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir?

I wrote the book with the hare stretched out on her side in my office, or licking her paws beside me. As I settled at my desk in the morning to write, she would arrive back from her nocturnal wanderings, shake the dew from her fur and settle down to rest. I never knew what the next day would bring, and it filled me with a sense of wonder. If I’d been writing about an experience that was already in the past, there might have been a temptation to burnish it with my own interpretation and the benefit of hindsight. Instead, my task was to observe closely, to listen and to try faithfully to describe what I witnessed.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

I’m not a scientist or conservationist; I’m a city dweller who happened to have an extraordinary experience with a wild animal. I hope that the book might appeal to people who wouldn’t normally read nature writing. Perhaps readers who, like me, had a strong connection to animals in their childhood but lost sight of that because of work stress and responsibility. Or anyone who is going through a difficult period in their life and feels uncertain about the future. The message of the book is that sometimes the most beautiful experiences in life are just around the corner, or—in this case—just at the end of the garden. The things that we least expect can end up bringing us the greatest joy.

Read our starred review of ‘Raising Hare’ by Chloe Dalton.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

When the hare was 4 months old, she learned to leap the wall around the garden. She melted invisibly into the landscape of fields and woods, and I thought she was gone forever. But instead she returned, of her own accord, and chose to live a dual life between the wild and my home. The fact that she felt so safe in my house that she wished to return was deeply moving. At that point, I knew I was witnessing something very unusual, and that I wanted to document the story for myself and for others.

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

There is a painful moment in the story when a beautiful young leveret—one of the hare’s own young—dies unexpectedly. I was deep in the book at this point, writing the story as it unfolded around me. I was devastated by its death, and it was a struggle to avoid letting my emotions swamp the page. I could hardly see for tears.

The hare is an animal that has never been domesticated. It clings on, despite the destruction of the natural landscape.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

I was surprised by how much action and interest there is in the life of a hare. And I could never have imagined that I could experience such curiosity, interest, joy and satisfaction from living alongside a family of wild animals. Trying to find the words to describe the color and pattern of her fur, watching her conceal herself from predators in the garden, waiting for her young to emerge at night so she could feed them, all these moments captivated me. I was utterly absorbed, and felt more at peace than at any other point in my life.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

I feel closer to nature, more attuned to animals and particularly conscious of the vulnerable lives lived by our remaining wild creatures. The hare is an animal that has never been domesticated. It clings on, despite the destruction of the natural landscape. It is a symbol of beauty, resilience and survival against the odds. This experience has made me more hopeful about the possibility of finding a better balance between humans and nature, and the rewards for all of us if we can manage that.

How have you changed since you started writing the book?

I’d developed a bit of a carapace in order to cope with my work in politics. This experience has allowed me to shed that, and to live in a way that is truer to my own nature. It’s freed me up to be gentler, more patient and more attentive to my surroundings. I’m kinder to myself, and able to give more time to others.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

Hares have the very rare ability to carry two separate pregnancies at the same time—a phenomenon known as superfetation. I had the privilege of watching this happen in real life. I then read every study I could find, to understand this extraordinary, and rather controversial, aspect of a hare’s biology. It was also very enjoyable simply trying to pin down the exact differences between rabbits and hares. Before I met the hare, I couldn’t have told you what those differences were, but there are a great many, since they are in fact different species.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

I’d like to think that it would be something unpretentious, nourishing, warm and comforting. Something homemade, and simple. Freshly made bread, perhaps, with a touch of salt.

Photo of Chloe Dalton by Andrew Parsons.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir?

By nature, I tend to think more about the future than the past. While I’m conscious of my own history and narrative, I usually spend most of my energy thinking about the cool things I’d like to do and what comes next. Writing this book with [co-author] Wendell Jamieson has been an incredible opportunity to carefully consider the amazing people who have shaped my life—family, friends, collaborators and mentors—and to appreciate the cumulative impact of their invaluable support and encouragement.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

Connecting Dots offers a fun, interesting and exciting ride for two specific sets of readers. I try to normalize and offer insights about blindness for the total newcomer, someone who knows nothing about blind people and who wants to learn more, from basics like Braille and cane use to how we use computers and raise children. At the same time, it’s crafted for folks who do have a connection to blindness and are curious about my life and work: my time at NASA, developing accessible mapping software, crowdsourcing audio description for YouTube and so on. Either sighted or blind, student or teacher, child or parent, consumer or designer, I think my story includes enough nuance and depth to be appreciated from almost any perspective.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

For the past 25 years, my friends have been encouraging me to write this book. While flattering, I had a hard time believing that it would be sufficiently meaningful to devote the kind of time and effort I knew a project like this would take. I also questioned whether I had made enough progress in my career to be memoir-worthy. With the recognition of the MacArthur Fellowship in 2021, and Wendell’s generous offer of partnership in the project, these objections seemed to have been largely addressed, and I was forced to admit to myself that the time for a book had finally come.

“I have always worried that my violent and traumatic origin story is a distraction from the important work I want the world to know about.”

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

For most of my professional life, I’ve been trying to direct attention to my work in disability and disability inclusion, and away from my personal origin story: how I became blind. I have always worried that my violent and traumatic origin story is a distraction from the important work I want the world to know about. While the story of Connecting Dots focuses emphatically on “the important stuff”—blind identity, cool accessible technologies, inclusive design and even the arc of my blind life—completeness required us to include the story of how I got burned as a little kid. It was a challenge to cover these events while being neither dismissive nor sensational or maudlin. Ultimately, I think we got it just right.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

One of the most delightful things that arose as we wrote was the strength and power of our collaboration. We kept our draft live in a Google doc, with Wendell drafting most sections from weekly interviews. I’d go in and edit, revise, trim and expand. Wendell would revise my revisions and I’d improve his updates. We were usually thrilled with the results. We would occasionally debate strenuously on one point or another, but always with respect and always ultimately finding a satisfactory resolution. Through this amazing partnership, I learned a lot about storytelling and I think Wendell learned a lot about disability, and he definitely learned a lot about me.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

In addition to feeling optimistic that we’ve told an interesting, funny and engaging story, I hope this book has a positive influence on lives and the world. My ultimate mission is to normalize blindness and disability, to help move us a little further along the road of everyday, reasonable expectations and opportunities for people with disabilities. I hope to offer an example (or counterexample) for young blind people, parents of blind kids and blind parents, educators, designers, engineers and other shapers of our more-accessible future.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

I honestly think I’ve learned many things since starting the Connecting Dots project, but have changed very little. If I’ve changed, it’s to become more patient, more understanding of difference, better able to communicate with people holding opinions different from my own. These are not changes brought by the writing process, but the slow progression of age and maturity. It’s been a long road.

Read our review of ‘Connecting Dots’ by Joshua A. Miele.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

Since Connecting Dots is a memoir, I had to do very little research; I consider myself a world expert on my own blind life. However, early in the writing, I constructed a simple timeline of my life that included dates and timespans for major life events, girlfriends, trips and places I lived. Most of it was easy, but reconstructing the early ’90s with a reasonable degree of accuracy was surprisingly difficult. Interestingly, there are also no photographs of me from this time period. Maybe it has a connection to the aliens that got the Mars Observer, or maybe it’s just a result of the college lifestyle I was living.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

A robust and resilient blind life dressed in a lively, acidic and sweet disability-pride reduction, served with good and bad choices, mixed mature and immature romance, a sprig of accessible design and plenty of fresh Pacific oysters.

Author photo of Joshua A. Miele © Barbara Butkus.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir?

The greatest thing I have ever written was my rights into existence. This is the second. It was healing to write it and I hope that readers will be able to heal a part of their soul while reading it too.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

Anyone who has had to heal, is on their healing journey and wants to know how to change the world will enjoy the book. This book is a literal map of my healing journey; I hope it’s a useful blueprint for others to take their own journeys too.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

To be honest, I’ve always turned to writing to heal. But the moment I decided I could write was when I passed my United Nations General Assembly Resolution for survivors of sexual violence. It felt like a curse was breaking; I was on this runaway train for nearly a decade weaving justice out of my trauma. After having reached the highest levels of legislation by changing the world, it was time to write it down. As for the magical surrealism in the book, sometimes a story grips you and you have no choice but to tell it. I knew that when I arrived at the realms of grief. I’m grateful to FSG for honoring my artistic voice and granting me the ability to tell my story with both literal and emotional truth.

Read our review of ‘Saving Five’ by Amanda Nguyen.

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

The hardest memories I had were when I revisited the state my mind was in, its desperate attempts to make sense of why those who hurt me did so. Spoiler: There is never enough reason to explain violence away. We create our own closure by creating our own justice and resilience.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

Our younger selves have a distinct voice and a lot of wisdom to share. We all have lessons we can learn from our younger selves and from each stage of grief.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

Writing is healing. I feel like I was able to thoroughly process my trauma, make sense of it, grieve it and now graduate from it.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

I feel braver. There were painful documents I hid in the back of shelves that I had to unearth in order to write the memoir. I’m proud that I’ve healed enough to work up the courage to dust them off, confront them, make sense of them and process them.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

I looked up the statistics of how difficult it is to pass a federal law. If readers want to learn how to pass a bill, this is a step-by-step guide.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

One serving of hope please!

Photo of Amanda Nguyen ©Duke Winn.

Discover more great memoirs this Memoir March.

What do you love most about your memoir? 

I love most that Love, Rita captures who my sister was as a woman who battled a chronic illness, while also revealing her complexity and fullness; I love that this memoir is a microcosm of shared life experiences for so many Black women and men. I love that Love, Rita includes 22 letters that Rita wrote to me throughout the years, which stitch together the story of us as sisters. I especially love that the book includes family photos. Most of all, I love that writing this memoir allowed me to be in an active relationship again with my sister, as a way to better understand who she was to me, and who I am without her.

What kind of reader do you think will most appreciate or enjoy your book?

I hope that all types of readers will find their way to this book and enjoy it. That said, I do feel that readers who may most enjoy Love, Rita are those who like reading stories about individual people defined and shaped by familial dynamics, but also by living in a particular time and place, i.e., personal narratives anchored by social history and cultural context. In addition, anyone who has battled a chronic illness or loved someone who has, anyone who has some experience with inherited and lived trauma will, I hope, find value in this book. Finally, because the book explores multiple losses, anyone who has lost a loved one and suffered through grief and mourning will hopefully appreciate my book’s exploration of that experience.

Read our review of ‘Love, Rita’ by Bridgett M. Davis.

At what point did you know this story was a book?

On what would’ve been my sister’s 65th birthday, I wrote a letter to her, and in it I explored some of the milestones in her life. That’s when I realized she’d lived through so many cultural touchstones; her life’s events were resonant beyond their individual impact on her, but also more broadly as markers of Black life from the mid-to-late 20th century. That’s when I committed to writing this memoir, with two goals in mind: To honor my sister, and to highlight what America’s structural racism looks like through the lens of a personal, lived experience.

What was the hardest memory to get on the page?

The hardest memory to capture on the page was the one that follows my sister’s final months of life, after she loses her battle with lupus: the day she dies.

Was there anything that surprised you as you wrote?

As I wrote, I was surprised by how vivid and alive my sister felt to me again. I was surprised—even though it had been my goal—by how writing this story conjured her presence, made me feel close to her again, despite how long ago she died.

How do you feel now that you’ve put this story to the page?

I’m greatly relieved to have gotten this story—which for so long felt too hard to write, yet consumed my consciousness—out of me; I feel liberated from this family narrative and the parts that saddened me, yet surprisingly comforted by the parts that lifted my heart. Now that it lives on the page, I feel proud of myself for facing my fears and writing the hard parts. Having done so is a major personal and creative triumph.

As I wrote, I was surprised by how vivid and alive my sister felt to me again.

How have you changed since you started writing it?

When I began writing, I still held some guilt over not being able to save my sister. That guilt has subsided now that I’ve written the book, because I’ve gained invaluable understanding and perspective. I’ve now honored her life. Not only has research and combing through personal archives made that possible, so has mining my memory and speaking to many people who knew and loved her. Because I understand more fully what Rita meant to me, and how she influenced who I’ve become, I can honor those parts of her that live in me. That’s new.

What is the most interesting thing you had to research in order to write this book?

Because my sister attended Fisk University, I researched that particular historically Black college, which allowed me to learn about the institution’s fascinating history. I learned that not only did Nikki Giovanni and W.E.B. Du Bois graduate from Fisk, but the university has played a crucial role in Black and American history in myriad ways. Learning about Fisk’s story opened up a new, rich portal of Black culture for me.

Can you describe your book as an item on a menu?

Love, Rita is a delicious chicken shawarma with creamy garlic sauce. Not only was this one of my sister’s favorite meals at her favorite Middle Eastern restaurant in the Detroit area, La Shish, but it captures that combination of familiarity and comfort mixed with spiciness that embodied Rita’s personality. People love it. People loved her.

Photo of Bridgett M. Davis by Nina Subin.

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