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Places I Stopped on the Way Home: A Memoir of Chaos and Grace
Sometimes I think of how I will describe New York to my children. I will tell them that the city was in so many ways, and for such a long time, the best and worst thing about my life. That it was a sort of perpetual question in pursuit of an answer. And that in attempting to answer it, I turned and faced myself.
In Places I Stopped on the Way Home, Meg Fee plots a decade of her life in New York City - from falling in love at the Lincoln Center to escaping the roommate (and bedbugs) from hell on Thompson Street, from chasing false promises on 66th Street and the wrong men everywhere to finding true friendships over glasses of wine in Harlem and Greenwich Village.
Weaving together her joys and sorrows, expectations and uncertainties, aspirations and realities, the result is an exhilarating collection of essays about love and friendship, failure and suffering, and above all hope. Join Meg on her heart-wrenching journey, as she cuts the difficult path to finding herself and finding home.
In Places I Stopped on the Way Home, Meg Fee plots a decade of her life in New York City - from falling in love at the Lincoln Center to escaping the roommate (and bedbugs) from hell on Thompson Street, from chasing false promises on 66th Street and the wrong men everywhere to finding true friendships over glasses of wine in Harlem and Greenwich Village.
Weaving together her joys and sorrows, expectations and uncertainties, aspirations and realities, the result is an exhilarating collection of essays about love and friendship, failure and suffering, and above all hope. Join Meg on her heart-wrenching journey, as she cuts the difficult path to finding herself and finding home.
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First published May 3, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 153 reviews
July 2, 2018
Meg Fee came to New York City to study drama at Julliard. Her short essays, most of them titled after NYC locations (plus a few set further afield), are about the uncertainty of her twenties: falling in and out of love, having an eating disorder, and searching for her purpose. She calls herself “a mess of disparate wants, a small universe in bloom.” New York is where she has an awful job she hates, can’t get the man she’s in love with to really notice her, and hops between terrible apartments – including one with bedbugs, the subject of my favorite essay – and yet the City continues to lure her with its endless opportunities.
I think this book could mean a lot to women who are younger than me or have had experiences similar to the author’s. I found the essays slightly repetitive, and rather unkindly wondered what this privileged young woman really had to whine about sometimes. It’s got that American, generically spiritual self-help vibe you get from authors like Brené Brown and Elizabeth Gilbert; I’m actually surprised it was published in the UK.
Despite her loneliness, Fee retains a romantic view of things, and the way she writes about her crushes and boyfriends didn’t connect with me at all (e.g. “I am 27 the first time I see Eric am immediately struck by the clarity of his image” plus – awkward transition alert – “Sitting at the bar, my mind wanders to the man I began dating just after George.”).
I read the first 48 pages of a library copy and was going to give up on the book when – surprise! Over 6.5 months after I first asked for a copy, Icon Books sent me copies of this and Nancy Tucker’s That Was When People Started to Worry. So I picked up where I left off, keeping it as a bedside book and generally reading an essay a night. My initial impressions remained unaltered.
Some favorite lines:
“Writing felt like wrangling storm clouds, which is to say, impossible. But so did life. Writing became a way to make peace with that which was flawed.”
“I have let go of the idea of permanency and roots and What Comes Next.”
“I want a life that cannot be plotted on spreadsheets or graphs.”
“there is so much beauty in the world and I am wasting my time just making it through the day.”
“the city was, in so many ways, and for such a long time, the best and worst thing about my life.”
& one I didn’t like (her self-definition): “I am quiet mornings and endless lattes and long road trips.” – Ick!
I think this book could mean a lot to women who are younger than me or have had experiences similar to the author’s. I found the essays slightly repetitive, and rather unkindly wondered what this privileged young woman really had to whine about sometimes. It’s got that American, generically spiritual self-help vibe you get from authors like Brené Brown and Elizabeth Gilbert; I’m actually surprised it was published in the UK.
Despite her loneliness, Fee retains a romantic view of things, and the way she writes about her crushes and boyfriends didn’t connect with me at all (e.g. “I am 27 the first time I see Eric am immediately struck by the clarity of his image” plus – awkward transition alert – “Sitting at the bar, my mind wanders to the man I began dating just after George.”).
I read the first 48 pages of a library copy and was going to give up on the book when – surprise! Over 6.5 months after I first asked for a copy, Icon Books sent me copies of this and Nancy Tucker’s That Was When People Started to Worry. So I picked up where I left off, keeping it as a bedside book and generally reading an essay a night. My initial impressions remained unaltered.
Some favorite lines:
“Writing felt like wrangling storm clouds, which is to say, impossible. But so did life. Writing became a way to make peace with that which was flawed.”
“I have let go of the idea of permanency and roots and What Comes Next.”
“I want a life that cannot be plotted on spreadsheets or graphs.”
“there is so much beauty in the world and I am wasting my time just making it through the day.”
“the city was, in so many ways, and for such a long time, the best and worst thing about my life.”
& one I didn’t like (her self-definition): “I am quiet mornings and endless lattes and long road trips.” – Ick!
June 29, 2020
Our job is not to create a masterpiece, but to give voice to that which only we can give voice to. Our job is to go to work doing that which we feel called to do. Despite our fears - despite the nagging notion that we are not enough, or too much, or fraudulent, we show up. We take risks. We wrestle with our wants and our needs and the blank canvas. And we let the wrestling change us. Because in the space of that change - in the space of who we once were and who we become - is the divine.
Meg Fee
Places I Stopped on the Way Home
After stumbling upon this treasure of essays by change last week, I savored/devoured it over the weekend, reading until past my bedtime last night. This book checked off just about all my boxes: memoir, NYC setting, and gorgeous writing packed with personal wisdom. As you can see from this photo, I’ve marked multiple passages and the pages are full of pencil underlines. I soaked this book up.
Meg Fee is able to articulate the angst that is our 20s and allows us inside her mind as she navigates “the” city amidst her personal coming of age. I loved everything about this memoir. Fee does not glamorize NYC, which is so often the case. She gives you the good with the bad - right down to the bedbugs. She admits NYC is often to be endured, that despite a city with millions, it can be impossible to find your person and your home. But her prose, as she grapples with life, is what makes this book so powerful. A little book with a big punch.
Meg Fee
Places I Stopped on the Way Home
After stumbling upon this treasure of essays by change last week, I savored/devoured it over the weekend, reading until past my bedtime last night. This book checked off just about all my boxes: memoir, NYC setting, and gorgeous writing packed with personal wisdom. As you can see from this photo, I’ve marked multiple passages and the pages are full of pencil underlines. I soaked this book up.
Meg Fee is able to articulate the angst that is our 20s and allows us inside her mind as she navigates “the” city amidst her personal coming of age. I loved everything about this memoir. Fee does not glamorize NYC, which is so often the case. She gives you the good with the bad - right down to the bedbugs. She admits NYC is often to be endured, that despite a city with millions, it can be impossible to find your person and your home. But her prose, as she grapples with life, is what makes this book so powerful. A little book with a big punch.
October 16, 2015
I loved this collection of essays!
The writing is absolutely beautiful, like poetry on every page.
Sometimes I just had to pause, sigh, and take in what I had read, because it was so poignant and personal.
I feel like I discovered things about myself, things that always resided deep down inside, but that were brought to light through Meg's unique vision of life, love, and happiness.
I was literally stunned by several of the individual essays. I was deeply moved, and found myself hanging on every word. I will definitely be reading these essays over and over again.
I've been reading Meg's blog for years, and everyone always tells her that she needs to write a book. I am so glad that she finally did, because the result was totally satisfying. I am extremely impressed.
Thanks, Meg, for sharing with us such an incredible work of art!
The writing is absolutely beautiful, like poetry on every page.
Sometimes I just had to pause, sigh, and take in what I had read, because it was so poignant and personal.
I feel like I discovered things about myself, things that always resided deep down inside, but that were brought to light through Meg's unique vision of life, love, and happiness.
I was literally stunned by several of the individual essays. I was deeply moved, and found myself hanging on every word. I will definitely be reading these essays over and over again.
I've been reading Meg's blog for years, and everyone always tells her that she needs to write a book. I am so glad that she finally did, because the result was totally satisfying. I am extremely impressed.
Thanks, Meg, for sharing with us such an incredible work of art!
September 2, 2018
Don't believe the hype
I dunno. Maybe I am too jaded -as a native New Yorker - to get this book. The reviews were some of the most beautiful praise i have read for a book so I went for it. It annoyed me as much as sex and the city should annoy real new yorkers . She is indulgent,self absorbed and entitled. Whaaa a boy doesn't like me. Whaa I have an eating disorder - but not really..I vacation for a month here,a month there, go to Paris with my mother. I smell a spoiled rich girl who wouldn't know real struggle of it bit her in the ass. That's why she couldn't relate to NY. IT'S RA
I dunno. Maybe I am too jaded -as a native New Yorker - to get this book. The reviews were some of the most beautiful praise i have read for a book so I went for it. It annoyed me as much as sex and the city should annoy real new yorkers . She is indulgent,self absorbed and entitled. Whaaa a boy doesn't like me. Whaa I have an eating disorder - but not really..I vacation for a month here,a month there, go to Paris with my mother. I smell a spoiled rich girl who wouldn't know real struggle of it bit her in the ass. That's why she couldn't relate to NY. IT'S RA
June 14, 2018
ugh, couldn't finish. I heard the author on a podcast and thought the book sounded interesting. If you're interested in reading about how a twenty something's sexual exploits and eating disorder helped her find herself, than this is the book for you. But halfway through, I found nothing at all relevant to my life or worth reading.
January 10, 2023
“I am both deeply content and wildly homesick and I wonder how both of these things can be true.”
I think Meg is a talented writer and I highlighted and took away a lot. Uncanny how I just moved to New York and she is defining what New York was to her in her 20s, ready to leave by the end of the book. “The twenties are hard. Everyone who is not in their twenties say this. And everyone who is in their twenties knows this.”
I do feel like many of her essays and the people that were involved, many of her different loves and experiences, were surface level. I wanted to understand more of why she felt the way she did for these characters. I did want a little more backstory, but I think that may have been her intent with giving enough but JUST enough.
Loved the stream of thoughts and jumping into her experiences and words through finding her self worth.
“That I’m lonely. And that I fear this loneliness will crush me, slowly and by degrees. That I’m in mourning for all of the lives, I’m not living. And that occasionally I feel like I’m failing all of the time, and in all ways.”
“But it is not my job to convince a man to love me. It cannot be my job to convince a man to love me.”
“Sometimes I think if the only joy of leaving home is the gift of returning to it, then that is enough.”
“Euphoros, from which we derive the term ‘euphoria’, means ‘the bearer of goodness’ — figure out how to be that for others.”
I think Meg is a talented writer and I highlighted and took away a lot. Uncanny how I just moved to New York and she is defining what New York was to her in her 20s, ready to leave by the end of the book. “The twenties are hard. Everyone who is not in their twenties say this. And everyone who is in their twenties knows this.”
I do feel like many of her essays and the people that were involved, many of her different loves and experiences, were surface level. I wanted to understand more of why she felt the way she did for these characters. I did want a little more backstory, but I think that may have been her intent with giving enough but JUST enough.
Loved the stream of thoughts and jumping into her experiences and words through finding her self worth.
“That I’m lonely. And that I fear this loneliness will crush me, slowly and by degrees. That I’m in mourning for all of the lives, I’m not living. And that occasionally I feel like I’m failing all of the time, and in all ways.”
“But it is not my job to convince a man to love me. It cannot be my job to convince a man to love me.”
“Sometimes I think if the only joy of leaving home is the gift of returning to it, then that is enough.”
“Euphoros, from which we derive the term ‘euphoria’, means ‘the bearer of goodness’ — figure out how to be that for others.”
January 31, 2022
I need … 10 stars. This book made me fall in love with the rawness of writing again, and words fail me beyond that.
May 14, 2018
I've been an avid reader of Meg Fee's blog since I was in high school, so I was expecting nothing less than greatness from Places I Stopped. It's even better than I had hoped. I didn't want to put it down, but I dreaded landing on the last page. For women everywhere, her stories are unbelievably relatable, her words life-giving. I never read a book twice, but I have a feeling I'll keep coming back to this one.
May 22, 2018
I finished this book thinking about other girls my age, somewhere out there, living their lives and experiencing different things and different feelings, and it made me wish that my life wasn't so dull, LOL. I've been a fan of Meg's words for a while, and I'm grateful that she decided to share this little snippet of her life so that I could vicariously live through her experiences.
December 25, 2015
I like her blog, but this less than 60 page 'book' is pretty ridiculous. Think she should have waited for more material and more cohesion for an actual book. Just read the blog, it's much better.
December 14, 2019
THIS is the book to read when turning thirty. It's about forgiving yourself for your 20s, taking the time to reflect, and moving forward with the whole of yourself.
January 13, 2024
“Life is too short and too good to miss. And because it must belong to me before I can choose to share it with anyone else.”
A stunning and raw collection of essays on love, sadness, heartache & home.
I don’t know whether I feel more strongly that this was written for me or that so much of it could have been written by me, or maybe that it could have been both. I think every woman in their 20s/30s would see themselves in Fee’s words, or have something to gain from this.
This was the most quietly beautiful memoir I’ve read. I listened to it on audio, but had ordered a second-hand physical copy before I’d even finished, because I want to be able to revisit this one in those moments when I know I’ll need it again.
“Good things do happen, and very often the things we fear the most are not only bearable, but transformative. We will all, many times over, have to reconcile the life we planned for, with the life we’ve got.“
A stunning and raw collection of essays on love, sadness, heartache & home.
I don’t know whether I feel more strongly that this was written for me or that so much of it could have been written by me, or maybe that it could have been both. I think every woman in their 20s/30s would see themselves in Fee’s words, or have something to gain from this.
This was the most quietly beautiful memoir I’ve read. I listened to it on audio, but had ordered a second-hand physical copy before I’d even finished, because I want to be able to revisit this one in those moments when I know I’ll need it again.
“Good things do happen, and very often the things we fear the most are not only bearable, but transformative. We will all, many times over, have to reconcile the life we planned for, with the life we’ve got.“
May 22, 2018
A courageous and beautiful assertion of vulnerability
The girl-dating-and-sorting-out-her-place-in-the-big-city memoir genre has its fair share of sardonic, sarcastic, young authors. They are snappy, amusingly world-weary and precociously ‘wise’ as they navigate caddish man-boys, the dashing of rose-colored hopes, drunkenness, and failed birth control. They’re a hoot, and the arch wit that frames their receipt of spectacularly callous male behaviours as awkward, wacky-awful adventures serves to reassure readers who might struggle to maintain hope, if not self-respect in the wake of their own experiences. This is all part of being a sassy young thing!!!! They’ve certainly reassured and entertained THIS reader, anyway.
Meg Fee’s memoir covers the dating territory, through the lens of a different temperament. Pretty, intelligent and with a degree from a prestigious conservatory, Meg moves in the sort of social milieu where bumping into the ‘pre-eminent American playwright’ and discussing writing and music with him over a glass of red wine is a thing that happens. There’s no braggadocio regarding this fact, nor in the revelation that the fellow acting classmate with whom she has an on-off, never-quite-right-connection over nearly a decade is now a marquee player. For all that the men she dates may boast bylines in the Wall St Journal, sweep her off her feet at weddings, have the wherewithal to try to whip her away to Paris for a weekend, and sound scrumptious with their winter coats and mussed hair, they are essentially the type to whom the more frankly-speaking sector of the millennial/Gen Y cohort despatch with a term starting in f and ending in boi. Her attempts to forge relationships of meaning with these men who seem to tick a lot of desirable boxes are not envy-making. That these relationships don’t ever solidify makes their beautiful evocation all the more poignant. It’s all happening in an iconic, storied city, but the difficult reality of the slog it takes to make a life there is honestly detailed even as its charms are acknowledged and enjoyed.
Highly sensitive and heartbreakingly earnest, Meg looks back and unabashedly reveals her willingness to take these young men at their own estimation, and that she faults herself when they are unable to form connections that satisfy either of them. Her determination to give men the benefit of the doubt for longer than may be prudent seems evergreen, but toward the end of the book she is beginning to tire of pretenders, to see underneath their self-branding and to realise that they have benefited from her tendency to project and to hope. She begins to own her values, define for herself what she wants, what she deserves. At dinner a man she calls a friend asks what she will ‘bring to the table’ in a relationship and he meets her answer with condescension; this shifts her into a re-evaluation of the presentations of love among those around her, recognition that there is a degree of display that is intolerable to her. When her kind, happily-married, unaffected older friend takes her by the arm, looks her in the eye and firmly instructs her ‘don’t you dare settle’, she takes it in. Her critical faculties begin to be utilised not for self-castigation but for self-protection and affirmation of her selfhood— she develops a radar for those who will denigrate her seriousness, gravity, capacity for hope, and who will be intimidated by the emergence of a perspicacity she has kept thus far concealed, not least from herself. She's a far better judge of character than she once imagined.
This willingness to be so revealing about the time when one is searching for love with a hungry heart is incredibly brave. These are cynical times and derision for finer feelings hovers; men and women alike are ready to disparage rather than sympathise with the defenceless naiveté of yearning. Kudos to the publisher who saw the value in a memoir of lost loves that doesn’t conclude with its author swanning away with the dreamy mate who makes all that came before worthwhile. The publisher’s faith that a young woman’s journey to herself is more fascinating and nourishing than a redemptive meet-cute and happily-ever after has paid off. That the author will pair up suitably is an inevitabilty that belongs off the page. What we have here is an elegant, poignant account of that liminal stage when a young, talented woman awakes to her own unique gifts and potential, discovers excitement in her separateness, and takes the steps in a life path that are guided by her soul. She makes a home in her own heart.
The girl-dating-and-sorting-out-her-place-in-the-big-city memoir genre has its fair share of sardonic, sarcastic, young authors. They are snappy, amusingly world-weary and precociously ‘wise’ as they navigate caddish man-boys, the dashing of rose-colored hopes, drunkenness, and failed birth control. They’re a hoot, and the arch wit that frames their receipt of spectacularly callous male behaviours as awkward, wacky-awful adventures serves to reassure readers who might struggle to maintain hope, if not self-respect in the wake of their own experiences. This is all part of being a sassy young thing!!!! They’ve certainly reassured and entertained THIS reader, anyway.
Meg Fee’s memoir covers the dating territory, through the lens of a different temperament. Pretty, intelligent and with a degree from a prestigious conservatory, Meg moves in the sort of social milieu where bumping into the ‘pre-eminent American playwright’ and discussing writing and music with him over a glass of red wine is a thing that happens. There’s no braggadocio regarding this fact, nor in the revelation that the fellow acting classmate with whom she has an on-off, never-quite-right-connection over nearly a decade is now a marquee player. For all that the men she dates may boast bylines in the Wall St Journal, sweep her off her feet at weddings, have the wherewithal to try to whip her away to Paris for a weekend, and sound scrumptious with their winter coats and mussed hair, they are essentially the type to whom the more frankly-speaking sector of the millennial/Gen Y cohort despatch with a term starting in f and ending in boi. Her attempts to forge relationships of meaning with these men who seem to tick a lot of desirable boxes are not envy-making. That these relationships don’t ever solidify makes their beautiful evocation all the more poignant. It’s all happening in an iconic, storied city, but the difficult reality of the slog it takes to make a life there is honestly detailed even as its charms are acknowledged and enjoyed.
Highly sensitive and heartbreakingly earnest, Meg looks back and unabashedly reveals her willingness to take these young men at their own estimation, and that she faults herself when they are unable to form connections that satisfy either of them. Her determination to give men the benefit of the doubt for longer than may be prudent seems evergreen, but toward the end of the book she is beginning to tire of pretenders, to see underneath their self-branding and to realise that they have benefited from her tendency to project and to hope. She begins to own her values, define for herself what she wants, what she deserves. At dinner a man she calls a friend asks what she will ‘bring to the table’ in a relationship and he meets her answer with condescension; this shifts her into a re-evaluation of the presentations of love among those around her, recognition that there is a degree of display that is intolerable to her. When her kind, happily-married, unaffected older friend takes her by the arm, looks her in the eye and firmly instructs her ‘don’t you dare settle’, she takes it in. Her critical faculties begin to be utilised not for self-castigation but for self-protection and affirmation of her selfhood— she develops a radar for those who will denigrate her seriousness, gravity, capacity for hope, and who will be intimidated by the emergence of a perspicacity she has kept thus far concealed, not least from herself. She's a far better judge of character than she once imagined.
This willingness to be so revealing about the time when one is searching for love with a hungry heart is incredibly brave. These are cynical times and derision for finer feelings hovers; men and women alike are ready to disparage rather than sympathise with the defenceless naiveté of yearning. Kudos to the publisher who saw the value in a memoir of lost loves that doesn’t conclude with its author swanning away with the dreamy mate who makes all that came before worthwhile. The publisher’s faith that a young woman’s journey to herself is more fascinating and nourishing than a redemptive meet-cute and happily-ever after has paid off. That the author will pair up suitably is an inevitabilty that belongs off the page. What we have here is an elegant, poignant account of that liminal stage when a young, talented woman awakes to her own unique gifts and potential, discovers excitement in her separateness, and takes the steps in a life path that are guided by her soul. She makes a home in her own heart.
January 22, 2020
An absolute gift of a book brought to me by @nycbookgirl via Julia Kingston. Recommend it so highly for New York girls.
September 28, 2019
I picked up this book because I love New York - a ‘long-ago obsession with the TV show Felicity and a brief visit in a chapter of a very bizarre, very unhealthy relationship with a crack addict’ kind of love. I’ve been through the car crash that is your twenties and I was taken by how Meg Fee controls and sorts words on a page, her observations of minutiae, the beauty to be found in the banal, the overwhelming sadness of ordinary life. But.
Look, not every book by a white writer needs to centre an examination of privilege, but the fact that it doesn’t even garner a passing nod is very telling. As is the embarrassingly unironic declaration that she burnt sage in her apartment to offset the bad energy of a former housemate. Could she really be that clueless? I may still have been inclined to round up my stars to 3 rather than down to 2, but despite the good writing (very good at times), there were several cringey moments of pseudo-wisdom, and at its most basic Fee has mistaken the quest to fall in love for actual love. These are two VERY different things.
Look, not every book by a white writer needs to centre an examination of privilege, but the fact that it doesn’t even garner a passing nod is very telling. As is the embarrassingly unironic declaration that she burnt sage in her apartment to offset the bad energy of a former housemate. Could she really be that clueless? I may still have been inclined to round up my stars to 3 rather than down to 2, but despite the good writing (very good at times), there were several cringey moments of pseudo-wisdom, and at its most basic Fee has mistaken the quest to fall in love for actual love. These are two VERY different things.
July 10, 2019
The part of me that picked up this title was hungry for nostalgic mercury retrograde time warp back to my 20’s in NYC. But this book is so very repetitive, narcissistic, and entitled. Corny prose about becoming a woman and finding one’s way in the city (apparently this is done exclusively through a series of dudes with tousled hair whose charm lies in their ability to tilt their head at just the right angle) would have delighted my high school self; hungry for life in the big city but now, it makes for repetitive eye rolls and me shouting at the audiobook while cleaning my apartment “then f’ing leave New York already!” I gotta stop reading bloggers turned book authors.
January 2, 2019
3.5 Stars
Intimate portraits revealing the depth of human complexity really speak to me and I was hoping to discover how New York City shaped Fee's life as she chronicles her life there from age 18-30. When I first started reading Places I Stopped on the Way Home, I found some of the somewhat repetitive essays more a compendium of endless heartbreak. I wanted more about life in the city, but I found myself struggling to keep the men in her life clear while struggling with her fluid timeline as well. Fee has a lyrical style to her writing that sometimes tips into style over substance, but then I had to step back a bit to immerse myself in Fee's uncertain and messy twenties just following college.
Her memoir is a collection of loosely connected essays and some are stronger than others. Her essay about the fallout of a friendship over an apartment with bedbugs stands out in sharp relief from many of the others because her prose seems more solid and less impressionistic than the others. Fee struggles with an eating disorder while consistently falling for men that will only break her heart. In many ways, her NYC was cruel and relentless when she expected magic and whimsy and love. I often found Fee emotional and raw, but her memoir lacked some cohesive quality that failed for me to completely understand her experience. NYC becomes this blurred, somewhat rainy and grey backdrop to her life and I found myself wondering if she would have had a similar twelve years living in another city. Did it even matter that it was NYC?
The city was, in so many ways, and for such a long time, the best and worst thing about my life.
Overall, I did like her musings about a young adult life lived in one of the most vibrant cities in the world, but I wanted to come out knowing Meg Fee better. I did not read her blog before reading her memoir. I wanted so much more personal growth for her. I glimpsed it in some of her essays:
It turns out that so much of growing up is about walking away from That Which is Not Right in pursuit of something better.
Her memoir ends on a hopeful note and I look forward to reading about where her life takes her and if that life is better not in NYC.
Intimate portraits revealing the depth of human complexity really speak to me and I was hoping to discover how New York City shaped Fee's life as she chronicles her life there from age 18-30. When I first started reading Places I Stopped on the Way Home, I found some of the somewhat repetitive essays more a compendium of endless heartbreak. I wanted more about life in the city, but I found myself struggling to keep the men in her life clear while struggling with her fluid timeline as well. Fee has a lyrical style to her writing that sometimes tips into style over substance, but then I had to step back a bit to immerse myself in Fee's uncertain and messy twenties just following college.
Her memoir is a collection of loosely connected essays and some are stronger than others. Her essay about the fallout of a friendship over an apartment with bedbugs stands out in sharp relief from many of the others because her prose seems more solid and less impressionistic than the others. Fee struggles with an eating disorder while consistently falling for men that will only break her heart. In many ways, her NYC was cruel and relentless when she expected magic and whimsy and love. I often found Fee emotional and raw, but her memoir lacked some cohesive quality that failed for me to completely understand her experience. NYC becomes this blurred, somewhat rainy and grey backdrop to her life and I found myself wondering if she would have had a similar twelve years living in another city. Did it even matter that it was NYC?
The city was, in so many ways, and for such a long time, the best and worst thing about my life.
Overall, I did like her musings about a young adult life lived in one of the most vibrant cities in the world, but I wanted to come out knowing Meg Fee better. I did not read her blog before reading her memoir. I wanted so much more personal growth for her. I glimpsed it in some of her essays:
It turns out that so much of growing up is about walking away from That Which is Not Right in pursuit of something better.
Her memoir ends on a hopeful note and I look forward to reading about where her life takes her and if that life is better not in NYC.
March 1, 2022
This is a message both to and from the muddled middle. from the disclaimer, pXV
How odd our wants are- how strange it is that fear and desire live together, a mottled border between us. p13
It happened so quietly, the moment I slipped from my life, that I cannot actually say when it occurred....the mathematics of too much somehow adding up to not enough-too emotional, too honest, too demanding, too picky, too much of too many things. But altogether, not enough. p42
Meg Fee gives her brave account of coming to terms with herself in this chaotic and gracefully written account of her stormy journey to self acceptance. A whole menu of issues around nourishment and self-worth that proliferate as she tries to find her niche in New York, had her on the edge of functional and there are a few years that her whiskey trick seemed to have erased.
We are all guilty of telling ourselves lies to make our current realities easier. p95
I do think the book was poorly named, at least the header. We learn little of New York from the litany of place names; she seems to be attempting to lay down some solid memories by mapping her encounters. A title closer to the content would be Men I Stopped on the Way Home. I found myself getting exasperated by the repetition until I recalled my own rite-of-passage. Before she leaves New York after her decade plus- including a roommate from hell, an invasion of bedbugs and a number of daring rescues, she comes to realize a few essentials.
Love is not a frenzied, desperate act. It is not a thing that bestows worth on a person. The worth must come first, mined mostly on one's own. p180
We will all, many times over, will have to reconcile the life we planned for with the life we've got. p185
If God is ever only an idea, that's enough. p170
How odd our wants are- how strange it is that fear and desire live together, a mottled border between us. p13
It happened so quietly, the moment I slipped from my life, that I cannot actually say when it occurred....the mathematics of too much somehow adding up to not enough-too emotional, too honest, too demanding, too picky, too much of too many things. But altogether, not enough. p42
Meg Fee gives her brave account of coming to terms with herself in this chaotic and gracefully written account of her stormy journey to self acceptance. A whole menu of issues around nourishment and self-worth that proliferate as she tries to find her niche in New York, had her on the edge of functional and there are a few years that her whiskey trick seemed to have erased.
We are all guilty of telling ourselves lies to make our current realities easier. p95
I do think the book was poorly named, at least the header. We learn little of New York from the litany of place names; she seems to be attempting to lay down some solid memories by mapping her encounters. A title closer to the content would be Men I Stopped on the Way Home. I found myself getting exasperated by the repetition until I recalled my own rite-of-passage. Before she leaves New York after her decade plus- including a roommate from hell, an invasion of bedbugs and a number of daring rescues, she comes to realize a few essentials.
Love is not a frenzied, desperate act. It is not a thing that bestows worth on a person. The worth must come first, mined mostly on one's own. p180
We will all, many times over, will have to reconcile the life we planned for with the life we've got. p185
If God is ever only an idea, that's enough. p170
May 7, 2018
Places I Stopped on the Way Home by Meg Fee is a collection of essays covering her ten years in New York from when arriving as a fresh faced student at Julliard age 18. It is a deeply personal and honest account of the highs and lows of her time living in the city.
The author describes first loves, first heartbreak, her first taste of independence beautifully, almost lyrically. She recounts memories associated with buildings or places or times in her life and includes her thoughts about just what is home.
She is very honest about her struggles with body image, food related disorders and mental health. Her self image and lack of confidence affected her decision making. She wanted to be loved, but often knew she was not with the right person. As she comes to terms with her feelings, she includes the wise words - "The body changes, it adjusts. But added or lost weight does not change a person."
One essay in particular - On Home II - was a short but very beautiful piece on what matters in a relationship and really spoke to me. She talks of wanting a partner to "sit next to me on the doorstep on the front stoop and with your hand cupping my neck promise me quiet Sunday mornings with coffee and the paper and unfinished crossword puzzles. Promise me that arm that reaches out when I step off the curb a minute too soon. An extra set of hands to pull my zipper or put the groceries away. Flowers for no reason at all. The coffee brewed before I wake. Passed art sections and shared looks and your hand on my knee for as long as we both shall live. Dancing in the kitchen, bare feet and no music except for that song wetting your lips."
New York is brought vividly to life in the book along with the author's mixed feelings for this great city. As she lived and wrote her way through all the places, she was finding herself, her place in the world, her way home.
The author describes first loves, first heartbreak, her first taste of independence beautifully, almost lyrically. She recounts memories associated with buildings or places or times in her life and includes her thoughts about just what is home.
She is very honest about her struggles with body image, food related disorders and mental health. Her self image and lack of confidence affected her decision making. She wanted to be loved, but often knew she was not with the right person. As she comes to terms with her feelings, she includes the wise words - "The body changes, it adjusts. But added or lost weight does not change a person."
One essay in particular - On Home II - was a short but very beautiful piece on what matters in a relationship and really spoke to me. She talks of wanting a partner to "sit next to me on the doorstep on the front stoop and with your hand cupping my neck promise me quiet Sunday mornings with coffee and the paper and unfinished crossword puzzles. Promise me that arm that reaches out when I step off the curb a minute too soon. An extra set of hands to pull my zipper or put the groceries away. Flowers for no reason at all. The coffee brewed before I wake. Passed art sections and shared looks and your hand on my knee for as long as we both shall live. Dancing in the kitchen, bare feet and no music except for that song wetting your lips."
New York is brought vividly to life in the book along with the author's mixed feelings for this great city. As she lived and wrote her way through all the places, she was finding herself, her place in the world, her way home.
October 26, 2022
Well I read this in 24 hours. The author wrote a memoir of spending her 20s in New York. The memoir is mostly just focused on the different men she was with. She uses them as sort of time markers throughout her time there. Like a timeline. And how each guy was different.
It kept me engaged and gripped for all 140 pages. There isn’t a bad or filler chapter. Meg writes so beautifully. It’s an art form how she writes and is delightful to read. I found myself highlighting so many passages that perfectly described a feeling I’ve had but didn’t know how to articulate. I’m a writer myself so know a lot of writers. I can think of a couple who similarly wow me with how accurately they write on everyday experiences and feelings, but not many. It’s a gift. And I hope she will write another one.
I spent a chunk of my 20s in New York and I loved it and had the best of times and worst of times there. The city is hard in a way that no one who hasn’t lived there can truly understand. I’m more content and confident now at 29 than at any other point in my 20s, but, still, the most magical years of my life happened in New York. And I’m forever glad I have those memories to take with me.
I will add that it did make me sad that she focused so much on men in her 20s. It seemed she tried to find her value or worth through men and made me sad for her. Because she is enough on her own and should wait for a good man to come into her life to add to her already complete, good life.
It kept me engaged and gripped for all 140 pages. There isn’t a bad or filler chapter. Meg writes so beautifully. It’s an art form how she writes and is delightful to read. I found myself highlighting so many passages that perfectly described a feeling I’ve had but didn’t know how to articulate. I’m a writer myself so know a lot of writers. I can think of a couple who similarly wow me with how accurately they write on everyday experiences and feelings, but not many. It’s a gift. And I hope she will write another one.
I spent a chunk of my 20s in New York and I loved it and had the best of times and worst of times there. The city is hard in a way that no one who hasn’t lived there can truly understand. I’m more content and confident now at 29 than at any other point in my 20s, but, still, the most magical years of my life happened in New York. And I’m forever glad I have those memories to take with me.
I will add that it did make me sad that she focused so much on men in her 20s. It seemed she tried to find her value or worth through men and made me sad for her. Because she is enough on her own and should wait for a good man to come into her life to add to her already complete, good life.
February 4, 2019
"The twenties are hard. Everyone who is not in their twenties says this. And everyone who is in their twenties knows this. But when you are in the middle of it, hearing people who are not, say, Yeah, it's rough, isn't terribly helpful. But then you start to crest upon a new decade and you think, Holy shit! The twenties are so, so hard, but the view from up here is incredible!"
I rarely read memoirs or autobiographies because they make me sad. And sadness is the only emotion I cannot deal with. Meg Fee's memoir tells you how it is being twentysomething, there is no sugar-coating and I must admit - it did make me sad. But this book was true and I identified with Meg and shared all of her worries and fears. Fear of being lonely, fear of not living the life we wish to live while everyone around us seems to be doing this thing called life so much better that us. The little voice at the back of our heads telling us that there is always someone better that us, that we're not enough or we're too much.
This book didn't give me any answer or solution to any of my doubts, however I found some sort of comfort in knowing I'm not crazy and I'm not silly for having those thoughts.
May 16, 2018
I absolutely tore through this book and thoroughly digested it along the way. Meg's writing is not only really beautiful, it's funny and witty and captures a sense of being that comes with being in your twenties. Reading PLACES I STOPPED ON THE WAY HOME felt like sitting down with a bottle of wine (or three) and getting to know someone. I absolutely loved it.
May 23, 2019
This book, this book, this book. I have so much to say about it and so many words bouncing around in my head about the goodness of it. I’ve been walking around the last few days feeling in a bit of a funk, because this book was so good that my world feels like it’s been tilted on its axis a bit. It’s deep and it’s heartwrenching and it is exactly the kind of memoir I’d like to write one day, except that one will be my own. It’s filled me with words and ideas and a million things I can’t name right now. I’ll have more thoughts about this soon, but for now I’ll leave you with what I wrote in my newsletter this morning: “I have nothing but good things to say about it. I copied a dozen quotes into my journal and will absolutely be returning to them. It’s a memoir of growing up and growing into yourself in New York City, of navigating the places you call home and of reconciling with friends and lovers and with your own mistakes. It’s definitely one of those books I’ll be recommending to all my friends. If you’ve read any of @hannahbrencher’s books, it has that same sort of literary feeling. Highly recommend.”
July 17, 2025
2 1/2 but bumping up to a 3 with the acknowledgment this isn’t my usual genre or even a style of writing I enjoy. Appreciated being able to relate to navigating NYC and all that comes with it in your 20s, but I found more than half the entries unrelatable and a bit repetitive.
March 9, 2020
Heartbreaking account of the insecurities a woman befalls in her twenties while living in New York, especially poignant are her experiences with men and eating disorders
January 19, 2024
Makes me want to move to New York 😭 She shares the “I’m in my 20s and don’t know what I’m doing” journey so sincerely. A good, heartbreaking read for day dreamers.
November 14, 2024
"There is almost no way to prepare for how beautiful a place becomes just before you go". Someone who has finally put every thought into words. This book gives me hope and is now my bible.
April 26, 2018
Meg writes in the most gorgeous, delicious way. I related to every story in some way, despite never having been to New York... (full review to come on almostamazinggrace.co.uk)
May 5, 2018
I was really excited to get stuck into Meg's book after seeing reviews from both Laura Jane Williams - who appears in the book - and Emma Gannon, two outspoken, creative women I admire. Meg writes poetically and beautifully about her tumultuous twenties and her love-hate affair with New York. I did at times find it to be a little self-indulgent and chaotic, and I didn't always resonate with her experiences, but there's no doubt Meg is a enchanting storyteller and there is much to be savoured in the pages, especially her jaunt to Paris with her mother. Three stars awarded only because it didn't live up to expectations.
January 5, 2019
So poetic. Practically every 10th line is a beautiful & profound quote. Dream of a debut.
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