The writing in this short memoir is controlled and technically sound. And yet, beyond that, Shraya utilizes force and precision in accounting her experiences with tender, sensitive moments of her life. I think it’s hard to discuss our own trauma without leaning either toward self-indulgence or feigned humility, but Shraya’s writing is a testament to how to craft stories with meaning without sounding trite or repetitive or indulgent. 

The book is divided into three sections: the intro, you, and me. The you section is written in second person, forcing the reader into the shoes of her oppressors, her bullies, and even her beloved, leaves a sense of humanity in those stories from all angles, compelling reader to reconcile the pain with the source. Likewise, the switch to me reminds us of the writer, of Shraya, and her own voice in her life. It’s an effective approach to stories that circle around both an internal struggle for self-identity and the external vision that self-expression ultimately communicates. Eventually, I also got the sense of a ‘manifesto’ forming in the background of the memoir, which was subtle and clear.

The sections of her life that are clearly and concisely chosen and communicated to the reader make this not only a short book but ultimately a controlled read. The focus is obvious, evident in every story we read. Again, I find it hard not to over-indulge when sharing life stories, but Shraya remains in control of that throughout. 

The ending was quite stunningly written and communicated.