That is how I felt reading Brown’s words: like I had fainted because the pain was too much for me to handle, and I’d just woken up with her looking down at me, fanning my face, saying, “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” Her prose held me, saw me for what I was. Though different from mine, her struggles reminded me that me and my aching body are not alone. And for that, I am deeply, relievingly grateful.

... searing and ineffable essays.

... a moving collection.

Whether she’s writing about traveling Italy in a wheelchair or managing a classroom of adolescents in Texas, Brown offers poetic, contemplative insight about her experiences. Yes, these moments are all, necessarily, observed from the vantage point of her particular body. But even when she revisits an idea or a location, the ideas are always fresh.

Brown excels at examining the body in relation to society, but her prose really begins to breathe when she writes about faith. Not only does she examine what it means to immerse oneself in faith, but she situates faith in larger society and the current political landscape. While at times this focus can feel incongruous, in the larger context of the book, Brown’s grappling with faith and how life is navigated makes perfect sense.

Memories of [Brown's] dead sister haunt every page of this powerful book, as does the ominous ticking of her lifetime survival-rate clock...Brown is a writer to watch...Heartfelt and wrenching, a significant addition to the literature of disability..

Brown explores living with cerebral palsy in her fine prose debut.