STRIDE

Wing’s memoir is an unvarnished account of resilience and humility in a life reshaped by trauma.

In 1990, an out-of-control car struck the author and left her facing emergency surgery and the amputation of her right leg. During the six weeks of her rehabilitation, Wing learned to navigate her altered body alongside patients facing their own injuries and limitations, forming connections that helped her begin to understand what her new life would require. Wing returned to a life that had been permanently altered, where she continued to confront challenges including phantom pain, the loss of autonomy, her children’s reactions, and society’s assumptions about disability. Her memoir continues into the years that follow, as she adjusted to changes in her relationships, which the author interlaces with an examination of the broader cultural history of disability and accessibility. She and her husband eventually adopted a daughter from China while Wing continued writing, teaching, traveling, and volunteering. Decades after the accident, however, its effects remained, as Wing learned that moving forward didn't mean leaving her grief behind. One of the book’s greatest strengths may be Wing’s refusal to make trauma tidy. Her prose is controlled when the material demands precision but can become more expansive and even indulgent when memory or reflection takes over. That flexibility suits a memoir that refuses to prettify either its subject matter or its protagonist. Wing does not emerge as a grateful, saintly survivor; she remains complicated, occasionally irritable, and unwilling to pretend that acceptance is necessary for moving forward. She writes, “Not being able to completely accept my situation doesn’t mean that I haven’t gone on with my life.” The restraint of that distinction gives the memoir much of its power.

An honest and insightful memoir about what happens when life changes—and how you can keep living it.