... [a] moving, bawdy, open-wound of a book.

This is all Sinéad, so deftly written, so fundamentally in and of her own voice...that it’s almost a song in and of itself, giving us the backstory, context, truth, trimmings and transmission, of what makes her such a revolutionary, singular, incomparable artist.

... a memoir that, keeping company with its remarkable author, manages to be both fractured and fierce.

... she writes evocatively in a way that is not dissimilar to Enda O’Brien in The Country Girls or even Pat McCabe in Breakfast on Pluto.

... a tremendous catalogue of female misbehaviour. Music memoirs tend to follow similar trajectories of ambition, success and depravity followed by regret and redemption. But O’Connor doesn’t do regret, and redemption isn’t required—at least not by her.

Everything about it is crazy, yet also utterly compelling, persuasive, even beautiful, sprung from a mind like no one else’s.

After years of serving as a punchline or a cautionary tale, she is speaking, and nobody is laughing now.

Rememberings, a loosely chronological memoir that intersperses short, episodic chapters with poems and photos, fills in the blanks between albums, charting her traumatic childhood, creative coming-of-age and mental health struggles, including addiction, agoraphobia and anorexia. If this sounds miserable, it isn’t, as she splices fierce sincerity with irreverent humour.

... idiosyncratic and poignant.

The idiosyncratic singer-songwriter takes readers on an emotional roller coaster in this unapologetic, soul-baring debut.

Promising candor and clarity, O’Connor (b. 1966) opens with a caveat that her story only details lucid periods of her life when she was psychologically 'present.' Omitting hazy years in which she drifted off 'somewhere else inside myself'—material some readers may wish she included—the author shares pivotal milestones (raising four children) and entertaining anecdotes.