First in the Family: A Story of Survival, Recovery, and the American Dream

by Jessica Hoppe

An unflinching and intimate memoir of recovery by Jessica Hoppe, Latinx writer, advocate, and creator of @NuevaYorka.

In this deeply moving and lyrical memoir, Hoppe shares an intimate, courageous account of what it means to truly interrupt cycles of harm. For readers of The Recovering by Leslie Jamison, Somebody’s Daughter by Ashley C. Ford, and Heavy by Kiese Laymon.

During the first year of quarantine, drug overdoses spiked, the highest ever recorded. And Hoppe’s cousin was one of them. “I never learned the true history of substance use disorder in my family,” Hoppe writes. “People just disappeared.” At the time of her cousin’s death, she’d been in recovery for nearly four years, but she hadn’t told anyone.

In First in the Family, Hoppe shares her journey, the first in her family to do so, and takes the reader on a remarkable investigation of her family’s history, the American dream, and the erasure of POC from recovery institutions and narratives, leaving the reader with an urgent message of hope.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Audiobook, Biography Memoir, Mental Health, Latinx, Psychology

272 pages, Hardcover

First published September 10, 2024

Reviews

[Traci Thomas · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the idea of this book more than the execution. I loved seeing the representation of a Latine person in alcoholic space talking about her experiences and the racism therein. I found the many threads to be too choppy. There is memoir, family history, and research, but it didn't come together in a way that felt compelling for me or that made the story richer.

[Tomes And Textiles]

Jessica exposed her heart and relationship to alcohol, which made me re-evaluate my relationship with this substance. Part memoir, part history of AA and how not accomodating the system is for BIPOC folks, even to this day. So, so grateful for Jessica laying so many personal stories on the line.

[kimberly · Rating 4 out of 5]

Me 🤝🏼 Addiction memoirs.

In First in the Family, Hoppe reflects upon her own personal experience with addiction, how it affects Latinx families differently and how it is viewed differently within the Latino community, and how addiction research and narratives often gloss over the experience of people of color. She also examines cultural assimilation for the sake of The American Dream, the role oppression plays in addiction, and her own family's generational trauma. It’s an average size book—272 pages—that packs a punch.

I am blown away by Hoppe’s intimate storytelling and shattering honesty. With clear, straightforward prose, Hoppe investigates the history of abuse and addiction in her family. It is a rich account of one Latina woman’s experience with substance abuse and proves to be a captivating story of hope and redemption.

And who better to narrate the story than the author herself. You can hear the emotion and fervor in Hoppe’s voice as she narrates and it really adds another layer of depth to the memoir.

Thank you Macmillan Audio and NetGalley for the audiobook in exchange for an honest review! Available 09/10/2024.

[akacya ❦]

2024 reads: 254/250

i received an advanced listening copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. this did not affect my rating.

in this memoir, the author shares her journey of recovery from addiction. in her family, substance abuse disorder was never mentioned; people just disappeared. hoppe aims to change the stigma people feel toward addiction, especially as it relates to people of color.

i don’t rate memoirs, but if i did, this would absolutely get a high rating from me. i loved the candor of this book, from hoppe’s family history to her experience with AA. honestly, substance abuse disorder isn’t something i give much thought to. i appreciated learning more about how this has been stigmatized both in the past and in the present. additionally, the audiobook was narrated by the author, so i really recommend that to people interested in this book!

[Karen (idleutopia_reads) · Rating 5 out of 5]

First in the Family was the first book I finished since July. Granted, I did have to finish it because I had the great honor of talking to the author at Women and Children First bookstore. If you see this book, buy it or get it from the library. Just make sure to read it. The book starts with the sentence, “I tell this story in fragments because a drunk’s memory is fragmented”. The book then takes us on a fragmented journey through Jessica Hoppe’s life, from her childhood, to her teens, after college, and through her sobriety. Jessica Hoppe is not afraid to name things and to give situations their historical context, not to excuse them but so we can understand them and hopefully heal from them. There’s so much love in this book, it’s a deep treatise on survival, recovery, and the American Dream but it’s also hilarious!

[Kendra Ramada · Rating 1 out of 5]

I hated this book. First and foremost, the writing is all over the place - I lost the plot a few times because random details are peppered in without any explanation and the timeline zips around in ways that are disorienting. The last 60 or so pages are just a rant against AA. Speaking of, I understand that AA is not the “holy beacon” of recovery it was once thought to be - its model has been called into question as much as its been lauded. It works for some, not all. The author goes hard at AA though, calling it more or less a tool of colonialism and theorizing it was stolen from Native Americans and the Code of Handsome Lake. What she doesn’t mention though, is that the Code of Handsome Lake takes a lot from Quakerism. The history of ALL of humanity is theft - nobody is that original, we have all borrowed (or stolen) from one another.

This leads me to another point - the author’s selective use of research and facts. She selectively (and sometimes deceptively) quotes research and facts to prove her points. I’m not entirely sure that her entire narrative is true either. For example, she talks about being placed on a 5150 and thrown into Bellevue. However, it is not called a 5150 hold in NY (where the author lives) - that’s California parlance based on the statute codifying psych holds in California. You also don’t get “thrown into Bellevue” when you’re on a 72 hour hold (which NY does have) - you get brought to an ED to evaluate if you need to be placed in a psych facility for more care. I have no idea what happened with the author’s psych evaluation- this is one of those threads she never follows or explains.

Also, while I’m not a psychiatrist, I wouldn’t be shocked if the author has been diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I have no doubt that the author’s parents experienced significant trauma in their childhoods and as part of their experience immigrating from Central America to the USA. I have no doubt that trauma affected the author, and impacted her childhood in NJ. However, the author seems to blame ALL of her problems on colonialism and the American Dream. She does not own that her struggle with alcoholism is based on a MYRIAD of factors, but rather, completely disavows any personal responsibility and decides that alcoholism isn’t a disease (as the medical literature supports), but rather a tragedy inflicted upon her by colonialism, racism, and the myth of the American Dream. No doubt that colonialism has created significant trauma which can lend itself to self-medicating with substances BUT addiction affects so many people from all walks of life - a fact the author conveniently ignores and frankly, she spends a lot of time belittling others’ struggle with addiction. She also seems to imply that white people don’t understand the “co-dependent” dynamic she has with her family, as if there are no white people in the world who deeply love their mentally ill/addicted families .

Long story short, I hated this book. I’ve read way better narratives on the struggle with addiction that are much more balanced and interesting than this 230 page egotistical info dump.

[Lindsey Bluher · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5! I *loved* this and if you like QuitLit, add this to your TBR immediately. The author made an important point that most quitlit is written from white women, and it’s important we give our attention to BIPOC authors sharing their stories.

Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC of the audiobook—there’s something deeply personal about the author sharing her story and quite literally TELLING you her story. I loved the connection the author made between the legacy of the drug wars and her own family’s legacy with substance abuse—it was a powerful component of this story. I think the back ~30% of this book and the work it does to break down the problems with AA and its patriarchal/racially problematic approach to sobriety is SO IMPORTANT. I want o read so much more about that—I got some of it from Quit Like a Woman, but it left out how racist the institution is and how much it has not evolved with society as a whole.

I’d highly reccomend this book, and am so grateful I got to hear this story.

[Katie · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Although alcohol would become my drug of choice, American exceptionalism was the first drug I ever took “

In recent years, I’ve become increasingly interested in learning about addiction, both in the biochemical pathways that drive it and the ways in which society demonizes those who suffer with it.

First in The Family is about a WOC and her honest, storied history with alcohol abuse. But it’s so much more than that. This is a story about generational trauma, and how despite our best efforts, we are not impervious to the effects of horrific events our parents and ancestors experienced.

Jessica is incredibly brave and tells her story with unflinching honesty and candor. Through our words, her addiction becomes destigmatized as we can understand why she made the decisions she did.

I hope that more stories like Jessica’s come to light as we continue learning about how addiction is not prejudicial and affects people from all backgrounds. With this knowledge, we can continue amending the language we use to talk about addiction.

Thank you to MacMillan Audio for the ALC in exchange for my honest review!

[Shelby (catching up on 2025 reviews) · Rating 5 out of 5]

In First in the Family, Jessica Hoppe delivers a courageous and intimate memoir that explores her journey through recovery amid the COVID-19 pandemic's devastating impact on substance use. Reflecting on the loss of her cousin, Hoppe confronts her family's history of addiction, becoming the "first in the family" to openly dissect these issues. Through exquisite, lyrical prose, Hoppe critiques "The American Dream" by blending commentary on the systemic erasure of POC from recovery narratives, with her personal and familial stories.

[Darcia Helle · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sharing our stories builds empathy, understanding, and compassion. Jessica Hoppe does this beautifully with her memoir, FIRST IN THE FAMILY.

Hoppe is a Latinx woman who grew up in the US, a country that’s been divided by racism since its inception. She shares what this was like for her personally, and for her family as a whole.

During these tumultuous years, something horrible happened to Hoppe. The resulting stress and silence led her down the road of alcoholism.

Eventually, Hoppe found her way to recovery. She tells her story with straightforward honesty, shining a light in those dark corners where addiction thrives.

I listened to the audiobook, which Hoppe narrates. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to her tell her story.

*I received a free audiobook download from MacMillan Audio.*

[Shauntelle (shauntellereads) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jessica Hoppe courageously used her voice to tell her story. A story of love, family, addiction, and how addiction affects families of color. This biopic highlights how addiction issues are treated differently for POC. Hoppe was brutally honest and narrated the story in a way that was straightforward and cut to the chase. Hoppe made connections between the drug war and her family's history with substance abuse that were eye opening. This book lends a voice to decreasing the stigmatization of substance abuse and alcoholism, especially in POC communities. This is a book that will stay with me a long time.

Thank you NetGalley and Macmillan Audio for the ALC in exchange for my honest review.

[Bianca Rogers · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jessica Hoppe's memoir First in the Family delivers a raw, powerful narrative of generational trauma, abuse, and discrimination. Narrated by Hoppe herself, this unflinching work chronicles her journey from childhood adversity to trailblazing success. The memoir offers solace to those affected by familial addiction while providing insight into rarely discussed life experiences.

Hoppe's unfiltered storytelling captivates readers, though some passages may be intense due to the weighty themes of addiction and trauma. While the honesty may overwhelm readers with similar experiences, it ultimately empowers through its engaging and transformative account. First in the Family transcends personal narrative, becoming a guidebook for resilience and a catalyst for breaking the chains of intergenerational adversity.

[Kristin DiBum · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I tell this story in fragments because a drunk’s memory is fragmented. Because being broken means breaking a narrative spine.”

[Marisa (Mirroredpages) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Actual Rating: 3.5 stars

Listened to audiobook

[Kara · Rating 3 out of 5]

this was an interesting read but just that

[Dania Lynne · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was moving along wonderfully until about page 160…? I began to notice a trend where the author seems to be blaming everyone for her alcoholism and addictions…?

It’s weird — she acknowledges her accountability but in the same breath blames the systems of oppression (the dangerous fallacy of the American dream) for the generational trauma that befell her family and led to her addictions.

She identifies that we are all responsible for our individual actions but then explores the white supremacist rules and environment that is intrinsic to the AA culture and how it perpetuates the need for alcohol because it causes harm to those attending. There seems to be truth there…but the messaging felt confused.

There is a repeating notion that she has a deep fear of being abandoned but there is no evidence that either of her parents ever left her…?

The tone is filled with her agency — she would like to break the cycles of trauma, but she chooses to not take birth control, has an unplanned pregnancy, decides to have an abortion and is (naturally) very negatively affected by the entire experience. The decision-making she exhibits often seems counter to her goals…?

I tried very hard and consistently to explore my own biases, my own judgements, my own preconceptions while reading her story. I admire her vulnerability, her passionate call to restructure oppressive systems and her acknowledgement of a person’s own complicity in how their life unfolds.

Ultimately, I really truly struggled with the last half of the book (I almost didn’t finish it); I’m glad I read it (I felt empathy and learned things during the first half); but I would not recommend it without some strong disclaimers; and I think that her way of walking in the world is perhaps too different than mine for me to feel alignment.

[Maryjane Strange · Rating 5 out of 5]

SO GOOD! loved how she incorporated other authors to support her claims on the decolonization of alcohol recovery. Beautifully written & i appreciated the openness. Plan on going through the reference list over the summer because she was quoting some great authors (hooks, Lorde)! will read again!

[Daisy J · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Cara Achterberg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautiful writing and a very personal story, it probably will be most interesting to people struggling with addiction and co-dependency. A peek into the Latinx perspective and experience. Thank you to Net Galley and the publisher for the opportunity to read and offer my honest review.

[Jess · Rating 2 out of 5]

I struggled to enjoy this book. Hoppe does preface in the very beginning of the book that her story is very fragmented. And she wasn’t kidding. I think what was difficult for me is that it felt like the book didn’t know what it wanted to be. Part memoir. Part history lesson. Part AA criticizer. Which don’t get me wrong; I’m all for calling out the White supremacy that governs AA. But these topics just felt so scattered and all over the place. I hate leaving a negative review for a fellow Latina. But this book was really difficult to get through. It didn’t maintain my interest or keep my attention.

[Krysty Krywko · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted to like this book, but had a hard time making sense of the way the different threads were put together. When the author was focused on her journey there were flashes of brilliant writing, but some of the research sections felt they were lifted right from
Wikipedia.

[Nicole · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel terrible rating this so low because I think Hoppe’s point of view and message is so powerful.
However, I thought the construction of this book was jumpy and fragmented. She does say that is because an addict’s memory is fragmented, but even the story in sobriety was all over the place.

[Venkat ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss]

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[Renee Roebuck · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really liked learning her story but then it turned that I didn’t appreciate.

[April · Rating 2 out of 5]

Didn't love this one: didn't feel as applicable as it could have been to broader ideas.

[Ailey | Bisexual Bookshelf · Rating 5 out of 5]

Full Rating: 4.25 stars rounded up

Jessica Hoppe’s First in the Family is a moving memoir that plunges into the turbulent depths of family trauma, addiction, and the deceptive allure of the American Dream. From the start, Hoppe unearths her battle with alcoholism, locating its roots in the trauma that has woven through her life and that of her ancestors, especially her mother’s family in Honduras. Her struggles with addiction are neither isolated nor inexplicable; instead, they are framed as part of a broader and deeply inherited narrative of intergenerational harm. Hoppe brilliantly likens the American Dream to “the ultimate gateway drug,” its promises tantalizing yet treacherous, driving individuals toward exploitative systems that extract more than they offer.

Hoppe delves into Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs), including racial trauma and socioeconomic precarity, which led her to alcohol as a means of coping. She reflects on her family’s pursuit of the American Dream, one marked by instability, periods of homelessness, and the constant specter of financial insecurity. For Hoppe, these were not just obstacles; they were the circumstances that shaped her sense of self and survival. Her parents’ attempts at achieving stability through property ownership were thwarted by an unjust housing market and the profound limitations placed on immigrant families within a capitalist framework. As she learns more about her family’s Honduran roots, she sees how historical trauma—spanning from the rule of dictatorships to the U.S. interventions in Honduras’ so-called “Banana Republic” era—has a throughline, culminating in her grandfather’s alcoholism, her mother’s experiences, and her own struggles.

Hoppe’s writing shines in its accessibility and emotional resonance. There’s a poetic cadence to her reflections, like in the line, “The anesthetizing power of the American Dream dulled my sense and blunted the focus of my logic— it worked by design.” Her vulnerability brings readers into the grip of her addiction and recovery, which is depicted as a continuous, often agonizing process of choosing oneself, a mantra she urges for breaking generational trauma. Yet, the narrative shifts near the end, turning to a broader analysis of systemic oppression and addiction. While important, this section lacks the deeply personal and magnetic quality of the earlier parts, making it somewhat less engaging.

While the memoir loses some momentum toward the end, First in the Family is a profound testament to resilience and radical self-compassion. Hoppe’s story is a call to confront our inherited traumas, honor our right to healing, and redefine recovery through a compassionate, community-centered lens. With unflinching honesty and poetic grace, she captures the liberation and loneliness of breaking cycles as the “first” in her family to address what was once shrouded in secrecy. For anyone who has grappled with intergenerational trauma or questioned their place in this country’s unforgiving systems, Hoppe’s story is one of both solace and solidarity.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to introspective memoirs, anyone grappling with generational trauma and recovery, those curious about immigrant experiences within the American Dream, fans of poetic prose, and supporters of community-based, anti-racist recovery.

🔑 Key Themes: Intergenerational Trauma, Addiction as Survival, The American Dream and Capitalism, Family and Cultural Heritage, Anti-Racist and Decolonial Healing.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Incest (minor), Pedophilia (minor), Suicide (minor), Drug Use (minor), Alcohol (severe), Alcoholism (severe), Domestic Abuse (minor), Abandonment (moderate), Suicidal Thoughts (minor), Racism (minor), Bullying (minor), Animal Death (minor), Child Abuse (minor), Sexual Harrassment (minor), Violence (minor), Police Brutality (minor), Sexual Assault (moderate), Sexual Content (minor), Abortion (severe), Eating Disorder (minor), Blood (severe), Forced Institutionalization (minor), Infidelity (minor), Pandemic (minor), Miscarriage (minor).

[Rebecca Chekouras · Rating 3 out of 5]

First In the Family is Jessica Hoppe’s complicated memoir of being the first in her extended family to face the intersectional traumas of abusive family dynamics, immigration as a form of abandonment, systemic racism, sexism and the brutal machismo brown and black women often endure, and addiction. In countries of origin and again in the United States, Land of the Free, Hoppe dissects generational trauma with particular attention to the emotional ponzi scheme of a mythologized “American Dream” that can seduce and then entrap immigrant families. First with a false promise that bears too great a cost by pressuring their children to “succeed,” to succumb to the myth of exceptionalism as payment due for their family’s sacrifices in coming to the United States. And then, once first and second generations have bought into this false bargain, by eroding their culture in a whitewash of assimilation yet never allowing them to fully participate in the dominant, white culture as anyone other than “of color.” And always, “The chronic emotional stress of knowing you need the systems to survive, while also knowing you are not safe in them.” Page 178.

It’s a tough read sometimes. Hoppe says on the first page, first line of her introduction, "I tell this story in fragments because a drunk’s memory is fragmented.” Then, in the second paragraph, “I’ve told this story in fragments because the way we drunks tell our story matters. The process of recovery is the art of narration.” It’s a bold choice. Several times I lost my footing and wondered Where are we? What year is it? Who is this man? That’s when I circled back to the caution of the Introduction and just surrendered to Hoppe’s story. And for the most part, her method of organization or non-organization works as a younger Hoppe sneaks around any awareness of her addiction, bobbing and weaving past the compounding evidence. When she becomes sober, the writing locks in and Hoppe does some very excellent deconstruction of the impossibility of disentangling from embedded, systemic racism; of built-in racism as an industry of wealth creation in a culture that values property over people.

When Hoppe finds her way to an AA meeting and begins her recovery, even that protected space trips her bullshit meter. Page 197: “The most precious privilege of being white is you are never forced to consider what your existence in a community means to the other people around you.”
As she gains clarity, Hoppe cannot evade the pernicious reach of racism that defeats people of color at every turn, even poisoning AA by denying the significance of racism to health and then again in accessing care. Citing the legacy of American obsession with so-called “drug wars,” Hoppe argues that race makes a difference in the way addiction is seen and treated by “upholding a procedure of criminalization for the poor, Black, and brown and a procedure of rehabilitation for the wealthy and white” (page 227). The choice Hoppe faces at her most vulnerable moment is whether to tiptoe through the AA minefield to avoid tripping the organization’s White supremacist underpinnings or call them out.

In her disjointed storytelling, Hoppe has already signaled her decision. Page 161: “Against the most powerful tide I’d ever faced, I made it to shore. I refused to drift into an identity I didn’t choose . . . For once, I chose me. Over everybody else, I picked me.”


Full Disclosure: As a second generation American, the pressure put on children of immigrant families to “succeed” resonated especially with me. More importantly, I grew up in a family destroyed by alcoholism and, while I cannot consciously see the relationship/bias of those experiences to this review, I know they are there.

[Autumn · Rating 5 out of 5]

What does it mean to break a cycle?

Jessica Hoppe discusses her experience as an alcoholic in a family that does not talk about such struggles. She details how her drinking begins to affect her daily life. She seeks treatment through the AA program, going to meetings at home and while she travels. She hides her participation in these meetings when she is with family, often covering up her attendance with a trip to a bakery.

Though AA works for her at first, she begins to feel frustrated with the way she is dismissed when she brings up her Honduran/Ecuadorian identity and experiences of racism, sexism, and violence. She is told that everyone is the same—anonymous and equal. But that fact is that those facets of her identity do affect her and people think they can treat her differently based on them. She discovers the flaws with how AA was founded and how it has continued to exist in a way that excludes people of color from bringing their whole selves into rooms that are supposed to be based in healing. These views mirror the patriarchal and white supremacist ideals that fuel the American Dream—a concept her family has been told to aim for while being excluded from.

She realizes that in order to heal, she has to look at her family and reckon with other struggles they've faced. But, most of all, she has to name those struggles and talk about them so they can all move forward.

"You must learn to love yourself again. Without conditions. Not with a love that insists we earn a prize to be worthy of it. Not with a love that demands we live up to something, that we climb to the top of a pedestal and sit there alone. A love that is immense, encompassing, and wholehearted enough to ask a mother or a father or a friend: will you come with me? Mending that separation reminds us of who we belong to—that being first in the family is not the responsibility of the individual but the work of the collective." (5)

Being first in the family is often used to talk about positive accomplishments without acknowledging the hardship and opportunities that were not available to generations before. Hoppe breaks that notion wide open and presents a hopeful future for her family.

[LLJ · Rating 4 out of 5]

"First in the Family" written and narrated by Jessica Hoppe is a bold and very personal account of addiction and recovery, but it is so much more. Thank you to #netgalley and to #macmillan for the loan of the #audiobook (read expertly by the narrator). The fact that I could listen to Jessica Hoppe read her memoir gave the stories within the extra depth of emotion in the telling. The author gives a really excellent and detailed background of her family of origin and how she grew up -- not only the characters who comprise her family tree, but the dynamics from which they emerged. These dynamics included violence, emotional abuse, poverty, and discrimination. All of these factors played an enormous role -- both in her own emerging addiction (and formation of relationships with others) and in her recovery.

Very interestingly, Jessica Hoppe speaks in detail about her experience in recovery (AA/12-step program) as a Latinx woman and how the origins of this recovery program (and others like it) have roots in indigenous culture and how much patriarchal American culture still impacts the principals and writings all these years later. Without adding any specific details or spoilers, I found this a wonderful, eye-opening education while listening to the author's experiences and how she navigated her own strong feelings and emotions. This is even more poignant in our current state of political conflict and all of the injustices that exploded into the public eye -- especially during the pandemic -- and the events which preceded it and came afterward. We could no longer allow old beliefs to remain the reality of the world. I thank Jessica Hoppe for writing this book -- it's going to be very helpful to the people who need these messages the most (who are MANY!!) and no matter what, it's a wonderful telling of a women's resilience and coming to terms with self-acceptance and recovery, and becoming who she really strives to be.

[Susan Emmet · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was drawn to this memoir because of my own family history with addiction to alcohol as well as my own struggle by age 60. I did not end up seeking therapy or affirmation from groups like AA, but I probably should have. I was just SO ready to end the vise that alcohol had set me in. I had married and divorced an alcoholic man after trying (the wrong way) to "get him to quit." I watched my father and uncle struggle with booze. I knew my maternal grandfather died of alcoholism. Often the addiction was tied to mental illness, bipolar disorder in particular. My husband and I have tried to "help" his son find sobriety for 25 years. Nothing, including AA and a variety of therapies have worked yet.
Jessica Hoppe tackles a lot in her book and covers her childhood, adolescence and adulthood before and after she became sober. It was most interesting to think about her perception and research on AA, family patterns of violence and addiction, healing, and the role that gender and race play. I'd never thought about AA being a largely white, male program in its inception and contemporary form.
I'd never thought about the cost of suppressing truth or about the need for all kinds of change beyond sobriety.
Hoppe's memoir is a bit scattered at times because it cuts back and forth between time and place. Much is horrific. Much is beautiful and positive. I plan to investigate the AA MFA Reading List and the Notes bibliography in greater detail.
This is an important book.