Nervous takes the focus from the abstract and does what doctors (and historians) failed to do: makes her story, her pain, and her life as real as any history that proceeded. Nervous gives face and weight to those forgotten women whose suffering has become little more than anecdotal collections of stories, not real people. It’s seamless and powerful. Nervous is a masterful personal narrative, beautifully written and captivating. It should– and will– be placed alongside some of the best well-crafted and compelling contemporary memoirs of this era." — Bassey Ikpi, New York Times bestselling author of I’m Telling the Truth but I’m Lying
"This book is such a gift! Part medical history, part lyrical memoir, Jen Soriano traces the rivers and tributaries of her pain, becoming fluent in the language of her body. Nervous: Essays on Heritage and Healing is a revelation for every person who has been silenced, neglected, and made to feel unworthy of care. Luminous and tender, Nervous is not your conventional trauma narrative.” — Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project and author of Year of the Tiger
"I couldn't put it down. This book brings light to the dark tunnels of history that live in our bodies. I wish for all mental health, social services, and wellness practitioners to read Nervous." — Dr. Leny Mendoza Strobel, author of Coming Full Circle and editor of Babaylan: Filipinos and the Call of the Indigenous
“Nervous is the epitome of innovation. In this painfully glorious essay collection, Jen Soriano illuminates the ways Filipinos have been mistreated and oppressed by a multitude of systems, both in colonial times and in the present. That is the best of what a collection can do: giving voice to the silent corners we’ve been forced into. Nervous accomplishes that and much more—a true literary achievement.” — Evette Dionne, award-winning author of Lifting As We Climb and Weightless
“As I neared the end of this viscerally moving book, I thought of my students hungrily absorbing the stories in Nervous along with the stories in Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior and Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings. . . Nervous has instantly joined the crucial works of Asian American literature and the newly teeming space of American literature as a whole. A brilliant reckoning . . . Though it is steeped in pain, Nervous is nevertheless a testament of exultant embodiment—of woundedness and remedy, of memory and history, of disruption and coalition, of diaspora and belonging.” — Rick Barot, author of The Galleons and Chord
“The essays in Nervous crackle and pulse with a beautiful bodily wisdom that animates a sparkling intellect. Jen Soriano tenderly, unflinchingly excavates layers of history and pain—found both in her body and our body politic—and offers all of us tools and materials to build a path toward wholeness. I’m in awe of Jen Soriano and you will be too.” — Angela Garbes, author of Essential Labor and Like a Mother
“Candid and affecting, this family saga testifies to the far-reaching effects of trauma.” — Publishers Weekly
“Jen Soriano’s debut…dissects transgenerational trauma. Drawing upon science, history and memory, Soriano illuminates the connection between mind and body, telling a story of living with mental illness with stunning, poetic prose.” — San Francisco Chronicle
“Soriano’s elegant prose and imaginative approaches to form propel the text smoothly between disparate topics….a deeply felt narrative….A cerebral Asian American memoir about the complexity of inherited pain.” — Kirkus Reviews
“Validating and illuminating, this book is a balm to those of who were born ‘nervous.’” — Glamour
“Candid and original, this collection addresses transgenerational trauma and healing using science, history and memoir. In it, Soriano lyrically reflects on the nervous among us and brings new understanding to the liberatory power of naming, uncovering and healing.” — Ms. magazine
“[A] searing book that doesn't shy away from exploring the most intimate of topics….Soriano powerfully meditates on both pain and healing.” — Time
“[A] riveting account of how the violence of war and colonization manifest in a descendant’s nervous system.” — Boston Globe
"Jen Soriano’s memoir is a book worth reading." — International Examiner
2023-05-02
A nonbinary Filipina makes sense of a series of diagnoses related to her mental health and chronic pain.
“This is a story I’m not supposed to tell.” So begins Soriano’s formally inventive memoir in essays about her decadeslong relationship with chronic pain, a topic she felt unable to explore because she was socialized to believe that, as an immigrant, she was supposed to “continue a silent lineage—be wordless in pain, resilient and productive, a walking American dream.” The author argues that her physical pain cannot be separated from her personal and ancestral mental health history, including a “deep attachment wound” inflicted by her parents’ emotional neglect and epigenetic trauma derived from her grandparents’ experience of the brutalities of colonization and war. Soriano traces her journey toward a semblance of health, during which she has enacted community-building “modern-day rituals,” like engaging in activism and investing in psychotherapy, and served as a songwriter and singer for Diskarte Namin, a Filipino band dedicated to politically healing music. The author also consciously builds a relationship with the Philippines, where she finds a measure of relief from fear and anxiety. The book comes full circle when she brings her son to the Philippines and they take a ferry ride on the Pasig River, which, after years of being considered “dead,” was, thanks to community efforts, slowly finding new life. Soriano’s elegant prose and imaginative approaches to form propel the text smoothly between disparate topics. At times, the author leaves core issues unresolved. In the chapter about the death of her friend, for example, Soriano spends little time analyzing what must have been a complex grieving process. She also never fully explains any conclusions she might have drawn from the revelation that she probably experienced birth trauma or what it meant to accept that she might never know the truth about her past. Nonetheless, this is clearly a deeply felt narrative.
A cerebral Asian American memoir about the complexity of inherited pain.
