NAKED IN THE RIVER

A woman recounts her unconventional upbringing, her relationships, and the loss of her sister in this memoir.

Khamsaly’s expansive coming-of-age story looks optimistically toward the future. In a couple of hundred pages, she shares details about her family, work, passion for music, academic successes (and failures), body image, depression, and more. She outlines her free-wheeling and rebellious nature; raised by globe-trotting hippies and partially home-schooled, the author donned many roles—single mother and divorcée, chanteuse, wife, and survivor. As the memoir unfolds, Khamsaly’s narrative seems to develop in real time, with diaristic snapshots of her moods (“I’m struggling hard with the dark this winter. Even my medication does not lift the depression right now. I’ll be doing alright during the light of day and then, boom! The sun sets and I feel trapped in a dark box and it’s as if my every dream and aspiration has been ripped away and I now exist for no purpose whatsoever except to suffer claustrophobia and dread”). The book reads less like a polished memoir and more like a well-maintained blog, and what holds the work together is the recurring sense of grief and longing for an older sister who, at 24, died from leukemia. As Khamsaly continues to circle back to tender moments with her sister and the impact that her death had on her and her family, she holds a magnifying glass to the long-lasting effects of sibling relationships. If there is one substantive critique to give, it’s that the memoir tackles too many topics, undermining its focus and structure. But while another round of edits would possibly add coherence, there is something compelling about the immediacy of Khamsaly’s prose.

A heartfelt, though not entirely organized, collection of musings on love, family, growth, and loss.