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A Life in Too Many Margins
S. E. Thomson’s A Life in Too Many Margins: Laughing Through the Labels is a whip-smart and emotionally stirring memoir that opens in a hospital room, David, chronically ill and exhausted, finally believed after months of dismissal, staring at the “beige hospital blanket” and coping with gallows humor as doctors confirm an omental infarction tied to Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. From there, the book moves through a childhood and adulthood spent ricocheting between forced gender roles, neurodivergent masking, disability and medical trauma, and the slow, hard-earned assembly of a self, one chapter at a time, like a life rebuilt from receipts and radiology reports.
I liked the voice in this book. It’s not “funny” as decoration; it’s funny as a crowbar. In the prologue alone, the humor keeps snapping the seal on the airless jar of medical neglect: the hospital gown “afraid of commitment,” the Jell-O christened Gary, the pain described as a “damp grocery bag full of bees.” That comedic metabolism doesn’t dilute the suffering; it metabolizes it, turning indignity into something you can hold up to the light without going blind. I found myself laughing, then immediately feeling implicated, because the joke keeps pointing back to the systems and people who require disabled folks to audition for basic credibility.
I also didn’t expect the book to be so precise about the small origin-moments that become a lifelong weather pattern. The early sections about gender feel like being trapped in a brightly colored room where everything is a script you didn’t agree to learn; the “pink” isn’t just décor, it’s enforcement. And when the narrative arrives at pronouns later, quietly, almost offhand, in a classroom roll call, it lands with the force of a key finally fitting a lock: “Uh, I don’t care?” becomes the hinge that swings the door open. The moment David names it, I am transgender… I am a man, it’s rendered not as a glossy reveal, but as an “ohhhhhhh” that rearranges decades of memory in one night. That ordinariness is the point. Self-recognition isn’t always fireworks; sometimes it’s just the first time someone asks the right question in a room that doesn’t punish honesty.
This is for readers who gravitate toward memoir, humor, disability, neurodiversity, LGBTQ+, and trauma recovery narratives, especially anyone who’s ever been treated like a “case” instead of a person, or who wants a story that makes space rather than demanding palatability. If you like the sharp, self-protective candor of Jenny Lawson (or the laughter-through-the-bruises essay energy of Samantha Irby), Thomson’s voice will feel familiar. And when the book closes by insisting, without sentimentality, that if your body is falling apart and no one believes you, you should write it down because it might save someone else’s life, it doesn’t read like a slogan; it reads like a field note from a survivor.
Pages: 229 | ASIN : B0FL6XG768
Keeping The Stethoscope, Hanging Up The Uniform!: The Curse of Combat Disability Retirement
Keeping the Stethoscope, Hanging Up the Uniform! is a raw and forceful memoir that follows Steven Wayne Davis as he moves from the intensity of military medical service into the equally demanding world of civilian emergency care. The book blends personal history, frontline trauma scenes, and a fierce critique of how the United States treats its combat-disabled veterans. In simple terms, the story traces what happens when someone who gave everything comes home and finds the system stacked against him. The result is part autobiography, part social commentary, and fully grounded in the lived experience of a combat-disabled veteran trying to stay afloat.
The writing is direct. Sometimes weighty. Sometimes almost poetic in how it describes exhaustion, anger, and purpose. Davis doesn’t dance around his trauma or the trauma he’s witnessed. The early chapters drop you straight into the ER, and those scenes throb with the same frantic rhythm he lived through. What struck me most was how he uses the language of medicine and combat not to impress but to show us what’s at stake. The choices he makes as an author feel intentional. He lets certain moments sit in silence, and he lets others crack open with frustration. It works. You can feel the emotion in the pauses.
What I also liked was his honesty about the bigger system. He talks about disability offsets, homelessness, suicide, and the empty ritual of “thank you for your service” with a mix of weariness and fire. It’s a tough blend, but he pulls it off because he’s writing from within the problem, not looking at it from the outside. The ideas in the book aren’t polished arguments. They’re lived realities, and they’re delivered with the kind of clarity that comes from surviving things most people never see. At times I found myself nodding along. Other times, I felt a lump in my throat. The memoir genre is full of reflection, but this one feels like someone opening a door they’ve held shut for years.
By the time I finished, I felt grateful that Davis chose to write this at all. The story isn’t trying to be perfect. It’s trying to be honest. And that honesty is what gives the book its strength. Readers who appreciate memoirs rooted in service, healthcare, mental health, and social justice will find a lot here to sit with. If you’ve ever wondered what happens to the people we send to war after the uniforms come off, this book doesn’t just answer the question. It challenges you to care about the answer. A powerful memoir that refuses to stay quiet, speaking the truth that so many veterans live but rarely share.
Pages: 192 | ASIN : B0G1L9FM6F
Keeping the Stethoscope, Hanging up the Uniform, The Curse of Combat Disability Retirement
Keeping the Stethoscope, Hanging Up the Uniform tells the story of a combat-disabled Army nurse who carries his battlefield memories into the civilian ER. The book shifts between gripping trauma-room scenes, raw reflections on disability retirement, and a steady, painful questioning of how a nation can praise its veterans yet leave so many struggling to survive. It blends medical urgency with personal grief, while also tracing the larger social and political failures that shape veterans’ lives. The chapters move from intense medical narratives to broader calls for reform, tying individual suffering to systemic problems.
This was a thought-provoking and emotionally stirring book. The writing feels like a pulse that speeds up and slows down. It mimics the chaos of an ER and the quieter, heavier weight of memory. I kept feeling this mix of admiration and frustration. The author speaks plainly, and that plainness hits hard. There’s no dressing up the trauma, no soft edges on the anger. The stories the author shares are vivid. The medical scenes come alive in a way that made me tense up, and the personal reflections feel like someone talking late at night when honesty comes more easily.
What stayed with me most wasn’t the medical detail, but the sense of abandonment threaded through the book. I could feel his disappointment. His exhaustion. His hope trying to hold on even while he keeps pointing to everything that is broken. He talks about veterans who are homeless, veterans who end their own lives, veterans who are reduced to numbers in the system, and he handles all of it with a mix of sorrow and grit. Some passages made me angry in a way that almost surprised me. Others made me pause and sit with my own discomfort.
By the time I reached the final chapters, I felt grateful for his honesty. This book is a call to pay attention, to stop pretending that “thank you for your service” solves anything. It’s a reminder that behind every veteran is a story still unfolding, sometimes painfully, sometimes quietly, sometimes with no support at all.
I would recommend this book to readers who want an unfiltered look at military and medical life, especially those who work in healthcare, public policy, or veteran support fields. It’s also a strong read for anyone who wants to understand the deeper emotional cost of service, far beyond the slogans and ceremonies.
Pages: 192 | ASIN : B0G1L9FM6F
Defy Stereotypes
Dementia Man is your memoir, sharing your story of cognitive decline, receiving the diagnosis of early-stage Alzheimer’s, and your blunt observations on a broken medical system and call for change. Why was it important for you to share your story?
I wanted to share an authentic voice—I do have Alzheimer’s—that can help others imagine living a meaningful life with this disease. Some voices and organizations promote suicide. Many individuals lose heart and fold into themselves. I want to be a model of what might be possible, defy stereotypes, and encourage us all to strive to help find a cure to this disease. Maybe, just maybe, there is something about any one of us with a diagnosis that might help find the cure just a little sooner!
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
First, if there is anyone in your family history who has had Alzheimer’s, you should find out whether you carry a genetic marker called ApoE4. It increases your risk, and finding out early allows you to pursue medications and lifestyle changes that can help.
Second, be careful. Frauds and scams abound around this disease. There is no cure. Hard stop. Many excellent U.S. government and state government resources are available on safe, effective approaches to slowing decline and getting help.
Third, I provide a list of a growing number of patient-led organizations that offer support, community, and guidance to help you and your family navigate this stage of life with dignity, purpose—and yes, even some joy.
What was the most challenging part of writing your memoir, and what was the most rewarding?
So many challenges… it’s hard to pick. Yes, the challenge of memory impairment and writing means I need some help, and I use a writing coach. It is frustrating. There is also the emotional impact of imagining the late stages. The most rewarding thing is the impact it has had on others and on myself. The responses shared with me by readers are humbling—not about my writing, but about insights gained and the hope instilled as they, or a family member, move forward.
What is one thing that you hope readers take away from Dementia Man: An Existential Journey: Choosing Life and Finding Meaning with Alzheimer’s?
The one thing is that it is possible to engage with purpose, love, and joy in life with this disease. You are NOT alone; there is a world out there of help and support. You can become the best version of yourself with Alzheimer’s that the world has ever seen. I have tried to include many resources—things I didn’t even know existed—that are available almost everywhere. Just one small example: I didn’t know that 211 existed, a phone number people can call to locate essential community services.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Website | Amazon
After decades as a tireless advocate for justice and social change, Samuel A. Simon faces the most personal fight of his life: the slow, undeniable progression of cognitive decline. When the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease comes, he refuses to fade quietly.
Based on his award-winning play Dementia Man, this deeply personal memoir invites readers into Simon’s “existential journey”—a story told with candor, courage, and an unflinching look at a broken medical system. As he revisits pivotal moments from his past and navigates the daily challenges of neurocognitive disease, Simon offers an intimate portrait of a man determined to shape his own future, even as the disease seeks to define it.
Both moving and urgently important, Dementia Man is changing the conversation about Alzheimer’s in America. It’s a story of hope and defiance that challenges us all to imagine a future of dignity, connection, and purpose for the millions living with cognitive decline.
Dementia Man
Dementia Man tells the story of Sam Simon as he moves from early memory lapses to a diagnosis of Mild Cognitive Impairment and then early-stage Alzheimer’s. He shares vivid scenes from his life. He brings the reader into the raw moments of confusion, fear, stubborn hope, and even humor as he and his wife, Susan, navigate a medical system that often leaves people like him stranded. The book blends memoir, social critique, and a call for change. It follows Sam’s love story, his activist past, his moments inside what he calls The Nothingness Place, and his determination to choose life for as long as he can.
This is an emotional memoir. The writing feels close to the skin, almost like Sam is talking straight at me from across a kitchen table. His descriptions are sharp and strange at the same time. I kept pausing because the images stayed with me. His voice has this mix of clarity and fog that mirrors the disease he is trying to explain. Some passages made me laugh because he can be blunt and warm in the same breath. He shows how lonely and scary cognitive decline can be when the world does not know how to help. What struck me most was how he refused to let fear become the whole story.
He questions the medical system in a way that feels earned, not angry for the sake of it. He wants navigators for people with cognitive disorders. He wants society to change the way we talk about brain diseases. He wants families to have real support. His push for dignity feels bold and simple at the same time. The honesty about his own confusion and frustration gave the book a heartbeat. It is not a tidy narrative, and that is exactly what makes it feel real.
I would recommend this book to caregivers, medical professionals, families who are beginning this journey, and anyone who wants to understand what cognitive decline feels like from the inside. It is also a strong read for advocates and students in health fields who need to hear a patient’s voice in full color. Above all, it is for readers who want a story about choosing life even when life gets hard.
Pages: 209 | ASIN : B0G1TZRVXL
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
Nothing So Broken
Chris Richards’s Nothing So Broken is a heartfelt memoir that weaves together family, friendship, and the long shadows cast by war. It’s told through a lens that shifts between generations, the Vietnam experiences of Richards’s father, and the tangled, messy journey of growing up in small-town America. The book captures what it means to inherit pain without ever being in the war yourself. It’s not just a story about Vietnam or divorce or youth; it’s about how those things mix together to shape who we become. Richards writes with a storyteller’s rhythm, turning memory into something vivid and cinematic, but also deeply personal.
The writing feels alive, sharp and tender at once. The way Richards talks about fathers and sons, love and loss, is both funny and painful. Some scenes had me smiling because they reminded me of my own childhood, while others just sat heavy in my chest for hours afterward. The tone is conversational, like he’s sitting across from you with a beer, just telling you how it all went down. The shifts between boyhood memories and reflections on his father’s war experiences work beautifully. They pull you into the idea that trauma doesn’t stop at the person who lived it. It seeps into the next life, quiet and steady. His language is simple, but it hits deep, no fluff, just truth.
The family stuff, especially the divorce and the father’s illness, his a deep emotional chord. But I loved that honesty. Richards doesn’t clean up the mess or try to make anyone a hero. Everyone is human, flawed, and trying their best. That’s what makes the book work. The emotional range, grief, humor, confusion, hope, feels real because life feels like that. He captures that strange middle ground between heartbreak and gratitude, and it made me feel like I knew these people, like I’d grown up right next door.
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to live with the echo of someone else’s war or if you just like stories about complicated families and growing up, this one’s for you. I’d recommend Nothing So Broken to anyone who appreciates honest, character-driven stories that don’t sugarcoat real life.
Pages: 201 | ASIN : B0FCSHMDMW
