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The Work in Between: A Memoir About Stepping Out of My Shadows
The Work in Between is a memoir that follows Gretchen Holmes through decades of illness, loss, trauma, and self-reinvention. She writes about her three rounds with thyroid cancer, her struggles with obesity and diabetes, a childhood marked by alcoholism and chaos, and the long climb toward emotional healing. The story moves through her early years in Michigan, her leap to New York University, her complicated family relationships, and the slow, steady work of understanding who she is and what she deserves in life. It is a book about survival, but also about learning how to live with intention instead of fear.
This is an emotionally stirring memoir. The writing feels honest. I found myself pausing and thinking about how she described fear and shame and the habit of keeping secrets. The scenes from her childhood hit hard. Her memories of her father’s drinking and the “dreads” that sat in her stomach felt painfully real. At the same time, the warmth of her family, especially her mother, shines through and softens the edges. I appreciated how she tells the truth without turning her story into a pity party. She owns her choices. She admits the messy parts. I liked that the book didn’t pretend healing happens neatly or quickly.
The parts about her medical journey brought out a different kind of emotion in me. The dismissal she faced from doctors, the exhaustion, and the way she pushed through school while barely able to swallow or breathe. I caught myself feeling frustrated for her. I also felt a weird sort of awe at her stubborn determination. When she talked about chaos being her comfort zone, I understood it more than I expected. The writing in these chapters has a steady rhythm that mirrors her resilience. Even when she writes about falling back into old patterns, I felt hopeful because she keeps showing up for herself. The mix of vulnerability and grit makes the book stick with you.
The Work in Between is not just a memoir about cancer or addiction or trauma. It is a memoir about the space between those moments and the quiet, uncomfortable work of changing your life from the inside out. I would recommend this book to anyone who has lived through hard stuff and is still trying to figure out what to do with it. It is also a good fit for readers who like personal stories that feel real and unpolished and full of heart.
Pages: 186 | ASIN : B0CZSHSJCL
Motion Dazzle: A Memoir of Motherhood, Loss, and Skating on Thin Ice
Motion Dazzle is a memoir about a daughter trying to keep her life steady while everything around her seems to slide in unpredictable directions. The book shifts between her years as a competitive figure skater and the present day as she juggles early motherhood, a marriage, and the slow, heartbreaking decline of her own mother. The chapters move in short, vivid pieces that echo the idea of dazzle camouflage and the incomplete way memory works. What unfolds is a layered story of love, loss, identity, and grit. The author’s voice is warm and sharp at the same time, and the result feels honest in a way that hits straight in the chest.
I was pulled into her world. The skating scenes are full of pressure and sparkle and fear, and Jocelyn Jane Cox writes them with such clarity that I felt like I was watching from the rink boards. The early chapters show her constant push to perform, to smile when she is hurting, to carry herself with poise even when she feels anything but composed. Later, watching her try to shape a first birthday party while her mother is in the hospital had me tensing up in real time. The tiny details of the zebra books, the blue painter’s tape, the quiches cooling on the counter caught me off guard because they were so tender and so fraught at once. I could feel her heart splitting open as she tried to make something lovely for her son while her grief pressed in from the edges.
The portraits of her mother are what stayed with me the most. The way she describes their twenty-year daily phone call, the quiet jokes, the listening, the stories from childhood that finally spill out in fragments. Grief shows up in the book like a tide that rises slowly, then all at once, and I found myself rooting for her to catch her breath. The writing feels bright, then raw, then bright again, and I loved that. It felt real. Not polished grief, but grief that stumbles and snaps and softens. I could feel her longing for more time and her guilt and her fierce love drowning each other out in waves. It made me think about my own family more than I expected.
Motion Dazzle would be a powerful read for anyone who has cared for an aging parent or anyone who has tried to grow a new life at the same time another one is fading. It would also resonate with former athletes or anyone who knows what it means to chase perfection even when it costs more than it gives.
Pages: 273 | ASIN : B0FHF95RKB
Against All Odds
Against All Odds is a blunt and emotional memoir about growing up in poverty, surviving horrific abuse, entering the foster care system, and clawing a way toward stability, purpose, and adulthood. The story moves from early childhood trauma to the revolving door of foster homes, then toward the author’s eventual growth, education, service, and advocacy for youth in care. At its heart, the book traces the long road from hurt to healing and highlights both the failures and the rare moments of compassion within the child welfare system.
While reading, I felt the author’s voice come through with a kind of quiet force. The writing is simple, but it hits hard. Scenes of abuse and fear are described without dressing them up, which makes them linger long after you close the book. I found myself stopping every so often just to breathe and process what I had read. The honesty feels brave. It also feels painful, because the book never hides the worst moments. I appreciated that the author doesn’t try to make the trauma sound noble or inspirational. Instead, he shows how messy, lonely, and confusing it was to survive it. That kind of truthfulness made me trust him as a narrator and connect with the story more deeply.
I found myself moved by the way the author talks about resilience, not as some magical trait, but as something built slowly from tiny sparks of hope and small acts of kindness. The sections about teachers, caseworkers, and foster parents who actually cared warmed me more than I thought they would. I also felt frustrated at how often the system failed him and his brother. It made me angry and sad at the same time, because these aren’t rare stories. The mix of systemic critique and personal reflection felt honest and relatable. The author talks about mental toughness, purpose, and choice, but he also never forgets how much environment and support matter.
By the time I reached the end, I felt a mix of heaviness and admiration. This book would be a strong fit for readers who care about child welfare, social work, or youth advocacy, but it would also resonate with anyone who appreciates raw, emotional memoirs about surviving hardship. It’s tough in places, but it carries a steady, quiet hope that makes the journey worth it.
Pages: 204 | ASIN : B0D8K36XWG
Celebrating Small Victories
Lalibela is a book of poetry that wanders through memory, love, pain, Blackness, faith, and survival, shared through snapshots of memories filled with real emotions that hit the reader hard, and amplify the realities of Black life. What inspired you to write this particular collection of poems?
I am so grateful for the opportunity to talk about this collection.
This work was part of an intended series, picking up from where a previous work, Black Architects, left off. There was this and a prequel to Black Architects called Dearest. Unfortunately, the latter was stolen from my storage unit, but Lalibela survived. I was very much moved by my community and the struggles that I witnessed/experienced. When I look around me, there are people living unglorified lives, battling day in and day out to survive. I also see triumph, I see joy, I see grit, I see humor, I see love. The scene of backs breaking under hard work, celebrating on Sundays in church and lending a hand, set a very heartfelt rhythm in my mind. This was the rhythm to which my hands went to work to capture the sanctity of what we lived. The pieces, in turn, celebrate simply getting through the day and all other seemingly small victories.
I was also partly inspired by “Of the Coming of John” by W.E.B DuBois as well as the Allegory of the Cave by Plato. Being in the motions of experience sometimes means that the very thing that is taking place is lost on your eyes precisely because of its proximity to you. The burden, weariness, revelations and love carried by the protagonists in these two stories felt familiar to me. Having experienced the world outside of my neighborhood and family inspired an awakening of sorts that stirred a deeper love and admiration for the persons around me.
I love my community and I wanted to do justice to show just what made it so special to me. I was inspired by the coming architects of our tomorrow, (specifically my niece who was around 1 at the time and my nephew who was just a fetus), that will inherit and take charge of the world that I must one day forfeit. It was important to me to pass down my own legacy within the greater legacy of this community. I wanted to explore the nuances of ‘home’ and in a lot of ways this is my letting go of what I think ‘home’ should look like. The neighborhood is in the hands of a different young now; that narrative of its character no longer belongs to me, it belongs to the coming generation of architects that must rise to the task of defining and defending it.
Were there any poems that were particularly difficult to write? If so, why?
Most of the poems were difficult to write. The time they were written, in 2018, was turbulent for me. There was a death in my community, one that I managed to blame myself for and I was battling a number of things personally. Among these battles were crippling panic attacks. I would become completely incapacitated for any number of hours and then once I was functional again, I would hit the page. During this time, I thought a lot about mortality and I wondered about the things that really mattered in life. I found myself in this picture of the universe, small and mighty and I was thus able to blend easier into the flow of things on a larger scale. I realized how my life meant more when spent in communion with the Most High and in service of those around me. Being a vessel for Christ in this way meant that I had to be pure, so the task was to confront the world in me in writing and to speak truth to power as an honest and accurate witness to all that occurred within my realm. This made it difficult to write because I would have to face those lives and those faces who were written into the lines of each of the pieces. I had to live the baring of soul that made me feel naked – in the eyes of the Lord and the eyes of the people on whom I depended on and whom depended upon me. I felt so exposed. The lesson was this: there really is no hiding place in all of Creation.
How did you go about organizing the poems in the book? Was there a specific flow or structure you were aiming for?
I wanted the poems to speak to one another, so I arranged them in a way that they kind of flow into each other. Here’s a fun fact: you know how most movies have a love scene or a romantic storyline? I wanted to integrate that into the pulse and beat of the collection so I wrote “And When On Days” to give the collection that added bit of romance. The collection creates a certain type of world, like a mini neighborhood, and I wanted every representation and expression of love present in it.
Have you received any feedback from readers that surprised or moved you?
I think that when the Most High puts it in the hearts of man to be moved by these words from my soul, then there will be more readers. As of now, any feedback is welcomed and the invitation is extended to chance upon these waters in time.
Author Links: GoodReads | Amazon
Lalibela holds within its reams the fatigue and redemption of a working class family of the African Diaspora in the West. The lively avenues, bus routes, love lives and cultures preserved in memory and in real-time as if frozen in place from another, happier time. Retaining a legacy of teaching its young hard truths about survival, identity, achievement, failure, faith, death, resilience, life, love and hate.
As concepts evolve, facts change and truth disrobes, Lalibela is an expression and legacy of survival. Within this small community with limited resources people ponder existentially, pray colossal prayers, and resuscitate grit mouth-to-mouth. Named after a town in Ethiopia that is home to the legendary rock hewn churches, Lalibela is the sanctuary for a piece of mind and a direction to that inner place of belonging that travels with us all as we navigate our various and difficult realities. Simply, Lalibela is home.
Lalibela
Lalibela is a book of poems that wander through memory, love, pain, Blackness, faith, and survival. The pieces move like snapshots. One moment you are in a kitchen full of noise and life, then suddenly you are in protest lines, then in the quiet of a bedroom at dawn. The writing drifts between tenderness and ache. It lifts up children, calls out to lovers, mourns wounds, and still finds space for hope. The book feels like a long conversation with a friend who has lived deeply.
The voice here is raw in a way that feels familiar. The plain language makes the emotion hit harder. I could hear the author’s breath in the short lines and the pauses. Some poems read like whispered confessions. Others feel like a shout in the street. I found myself thinking of certain imagery long after I turned the page. The children who glow under the sun. The exhausted women who work three jobs. The hearts that learn to love with both hands. The neighborhoods full of cracked paint and stubborn joy. These moments made me sit back for a second and just feel.
I also loved the way the author writes about Black life. There is pride and rage and humor and longing. The poems praise Black boys and girls with a kind of awe. They honor Black mothers with reverence. They admit to fear and sorrow. They insist on dreaming even when the world tries to shut the dreams away. I felt a kind of warmth in those pages. I felt seen. The writing leans into common objects and everyday scenes.
I would recommend Lalibela to readers who want poetry that talks straight and loves hard. People who care about community, identity, and the quiet bravery of getting through each day will find something here. It is a book for anyone who wants to feel close to another human being for a little while.
Pages: 70 | ASIN : B0FG147WCC
The Stories
Frederick Douglas Harper’s The Stories is a collection of deeply personal reflections that straddle the line between memoir and spiritual testimony. The book unfolds like a tapestry of moments rather than a straight narrative, each thread representing an encounter with faith, destiny, or divine intervention. Harper shares tales of near-death experiences, prophetic dreams, and ancestral guidance, interwoven with memories of growing up Black in the Jim Crow South and his long academic career. More than a life story, it’s a meditation on meaning, a spiritual ledger of lessons learned and messages received. The book moves through themes of faith, purpose, race, family, and love with honesty and heart, creating a body of work that feels both confessional and universal.
Harper writes with conviction and humility, his voice both scholarly and soulful. At times, his stories surprised me with their sincerity. His recounting of prophecies and clairvoyant encounters might sound far-fetched to a skeptic, but he presents them with such clarity and calm faith that I couldn’t help but lean in. I found myself feeling comforted by his certainty that life’s events, however strange, connect in divine order. His storytelling rhythm is slow and deliberate, full of pauses for reflection. He often circles back to the same questions: Are our lives predestined? Do spirits guide us? I liked that he didn’t try to convince me. He just invited me to listen.
What moved me most wasn’t the supernatural stories but the raw humanness underneath them. The moments where Harper described loss, or his mother’s death, or his early brushes with racism, those hit hard. There’s pain in these pages, but it’s wrapped in grace. His prose is plainspoken, but it carries warmth and wisdom. I could feel his gratitude in every story, even the hard ones. What I admired most was his lack of bitterness. Harper has lived through injustice, through grief, through brushes with death, yet what he chooses to write about is redemption and light.
The Stories is for readers who like to think, to feel, to question what they believe about life and what might lie beyond it. It’s for those who’ve wondered about coincidences that feel too perfect or dreams that feel like messages. Harper’s book feels like a long, heartfelt conversation with an old soul, and by the time it’s over, you can’t help but feel a little changed. I’d recommend it to anyone who finds comfort in faith, mystery, and the quiet beauty of lived experience.
Pages: 446 | ASIN : B085DYRJT7
A Teacher, Evangelist, and Leader
Born Missionary tells the remarkable life story of Islay Walden, a man born into slavery who overcame blindness, poverty, and prejudice to become an educator, poet, and minister. What inspired you to tell the story of Islay Walden?
Islay Walden was the founding minister and teacher at the church and school where my maternal ancestors lived. I was aware that he was a poet, known as the “Blind Poet of North Carolina.” but when I began looking for information on his life, I noted that there was scant information published about him. Most of the information was repetitious and frequently inaccurate. In addition, none of the essays noted that his primary focus was to bring education and the gospel to his community. Poetry was a tool he would use to help him accomplish that. None of the biographical essays noted that he had begun two successful school programs, one in Washington, DC, and the other in New Brunswick, New Jersey before returning to North Carolina. However, his reputation as a teacher, evangelist, and community leader had not gone unnoticed during his lifetime or at his death. Thus, after reading an obituary that extolled his talent as a “born missionary,” I chose that for the title.
How much research did you undertake for this book, and how much time did it take to put it all together?
There was a section about his life primarily focused on his poetry in my previous book, From Hill Town to Strieby, which took about four years to research. This book was published four and a half years later. Once I began seeking research information beyond literary criticism, I found that there was very little official information available. I found that the best guide was Walden’s own poetry, which was heavily biographical, a fact not noted in any of the literary reviews or biographical essays.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
It was important to be able to show that while Walden had been successful as a poet, he had used his poetry primarily to further his vocation as a teacher and minister. His desire to bring education and foster the faith of his community were his greatest desires. He believed those were the tools that would help all he encountered and especially his community in North Carolina prosper both materially and spiritually.
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from Islay Walden’s story?
I want people to know that his was a story of resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity. He overcame a legacy of slavery, financial challenges and physical disability to gain an education in order to help all he encountered to have a better life.
Author Links: Goodreads | Facebook | Instagram | LinkedIn | Website | Amazon
Born Missionary: The Islay Walden Story
Margo Lee Williams’s Born Missionary tells the remarkable life story of Islay Walden, a man born into slavery who overcame blindness, poverty, and prejudice to become an educator, poet, and minister. The book traces his journey from the plantations of North Carolina to the halls of Howard University and the New Brunswick Theological Seminary, where he became one of the first African Americans ordained in the Reformed Church in America. Through meticulous research and a clear narrative voice, Williams reconstructs a life of faith and resilience. She doesn’t just recount events. She restores the humanity and voice of a man who was almost lost to history.
Reading this book stirred something deep in me. I could feel the grit in Islay’s story. His persistence through blindness and hardship hit me hard. The way Williams weaves letters, poetry, and newspaper clippings into a vivid picture of his struggles makes the past feel close. Her writing feels both scholarly and warm, and she lets the historical documents breathe. I’ll admit, there were moments when the detail slowed me down, but I didn’t mind. The care she took made me trust her. I found myself rooting for Islay, not as a distant historical figure, but as someone I might have known. Williams also captures the contradictions of his time, the faith that built him up, and the racism that tried to keep him small.
Emotionally, I found myself angry, proud, and sometimes just quiet after reading a passage. Williams doesn’t sermonize; she shows the quiet power of purpose. Her portrait of Islay’s devotion to teaching and preaching made me think about how education itself was a kind of rebellion. I liked how she handled the tension between his poetry and his ministry. You can sense that both were ways for him to see beyond blindness, to express what light looked like to him. It’s moving without ever feeling forced.
I’d recommend Born Missionary to anyone who loves history that feels alive. It’s perfect for readers interested in African American heritage, the Reconstruction era, or stories of perseverance that don’t sugarcoat the past. Teachers, pastors, and anyone who believes in second chances will find something here. It’s not just a biography, it’s a reminder of how one life, lived with courage and faith, can echo through generations.
Pages: 121 | ASIN : B091MF5B48
LITERARY TITAN 