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archytas's review
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
4.5
I read this book in a single night, having a good weekend lie in in the morning to finish it. In part, this was because I didn't want to stay in the space of the book for much longer. It is a weighty read, and a remarkable achievement, all the more so for not making the author's trauma entertainment.
It is impossible to think about this book without thinking about the current popularity of "trauma memoirs" (Of which I have read quite a few). These tend to follow the same pattern - detailed accounts of abuse, moments of hope, then a catharsis and recovery. Mikosza has been vocal in criticising the pressure on authors to present their lives this way, and Homesickness does none of that. Rather, Mickosza explores the reality of trauma, the sense of dislocation, of being stuck. In a conversation between two versions of herself, she winds around the tricky exploration of memory, fear and repetition. This is not about what happened but is about what living with the consequences feels like. Like mental illness, the book can sometimes feel frustratingly circular, but gradually Mikosza moves towards, if not resolution, at least a departing.
It is impossible to think about this book without thinking about the current popularity of "trauma memoirs" (Of which I have read quite a few). These tend to follow the same pattern - detailed accounts of abuse, moments of hope, then a catharsis and recovery. Mikosza has been vocal in criticising the pressure on authors to present their lives this way, and Homesickness does none of that. Rather, Mickosza explores the reality of trauma, the sense of dislocation, of being stuck. In a conversation between two versions of herself, she winds around the tricky exploration of memory, fear and repetition. This is not about what happened but is about what living with the consequences feels like. Like mental illness, the book can sometimes feel frustratingly circular, but gradually Mikosza moves towards, if not resolution, at least a departing.
twicetheamountofsparetime's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
5.0
tackling_my_tbr's review against another edition
challenging
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
What happens when the concept of home — comfort, safety, love, all those things that ground us — is continually violated throughout one’s childhood? What does the cumulative effects of such complex trauma look like as an adult?
HOMESICKNESS is written in a style that is very unconventional for a memoir. It was a little like reading a documentary transcript, one where the host continuously probes the subject in an effort to uncover some sort of exposé. Author Janine Mikosza interrogates a version of her own self she names Jin — the one whose murky, repressed childhood memories are hidden within the spaces of her fourteen childhood homes. Homes in which living areas are devoid of family life, bathrooms are rendered obsolete and bedrooms are furnished only with fear.
HOMESICKNESS, although understandably very personal, also acknowledges the fact that this isn’t a memoir in the traditional sense. It will not overwhelm the reader with a detailed account of abuse and trauma. Instead, Mikosza has conceptualised the effects of her trauma with a mixture of symbolism and scant recollections; she demonstrates just how unreliable memories can be, that sometimes disassociation and intentional avoidance are the only ways in which one can cope. Triggers and patterns of behaviour may inevitably resurface. Survival, and by extension healing, will always be a process.
It was a pretty unique genre-bending experience, witnessing two personas — one level-headed, the other seemingly scattered — in conversation with one another. If you enjoy unconventional memoirs heavy with allusions, I’d recommend giving this one a try.
💌 Ultimo Press
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