In her luminous debut, Emilee Hackney offers both a love letter to and a reckoning of the place that made her—a story of losing her faith, finding her way back to her Appalachian home, and discovering what endures
Born and raised deep in the hollers of the Appalachian Mountains, Emilee Hackney knew little beyond the ridgelines and coalfields of southwest Virginia. As an eighth-generation Appalachian, her childhood was steeped in the stories of her grandparents—tales of the coal mines’ brutal grip and the way the land, both beautiful and unforgiving, never quite let anyone go. At fourteen, Emilee meets Sam, a senior at her high school, who offers her a glimpse at a promising future together. But as they begin attending services at Deliverance Christian Church as a couple, Emilee is thrust into the radical realm of Pentecostalism. In a culture where marriage at nineteen isn’t uncommon, Emilee is engaged to Sam. Eager to make her relationship work, she embraces the extremist doctrines of the religion, submitting herself fully to God, to Sam, and to a life of repentance. But what she doesn’t yet know is the man she plans to marry is not who he claims to be.
Years later, Emilee finds herself isolated from friends, family, and her own sense of truth. Wracked with shame and self-doubt, she reaches a breaking point. On the verge of spiraling out of control, in a stunning act of defiance and hope, she applies to Harvard; against all odds, she is accepted. From the magisterial mountains of Tazewell to the storied halls of Cambridge, Emilee begins the arduous process of reinventing herself and her relationships with her home, faith, and values against the backdrop of the divisive 2016 election. All That’s Unseen is Emilee Hackney’s fiercely honest memoir about spiritual entrapment, hard-won liberation, and the courage to reclaim her voice after she had been taught to stay silent.
A memoir that covers a lot of ground- Appalachia, Pentecostalism, sex and relationships, mental illness, Harvard - but rarely digs into any of it. Frustratingly surface-level throughout. Her experiences in and related to the church, in particular, deserved more scrutiny than they get. Needed more self-awareness and hard introspection. I don't know if the author herself has begun to examine the experiences recalled in the book with that sort of eye, though. This book may have benefited from some more time and maturity. It’s hard not to wonder whether (or how much) her connection to Michael Pollan, her Harvard professor and advisor, helped smooth the path to publication.
All That’s Unseen is a triumphant debut told with candour, humility and vulnerability. This memoir follows Emilee’s roots in Appalachia, growing up in rural Virginia and her fall into the Pentecostal church. She adds a human lens to poverty, describing life in the coalfields across many generations. Reading the moments in her evangelical church were sometimes disturbing and difficult to read, but they are honest and informative. I was proud of her, enraged for her, scared for her and so sad that her community failed to protect her and many other women.
What I found most fascinating is that Emilee’s spiral into an intense religious doctrine was predominantly self-motivated. Her parents were concerned with her behaviour and as she drifted further into church, she drifts further from her family. I appreciated that this challenged my general assumptions and perceptions that most people engage in these spaces because they are raised that way.
I definitely would recommend this for fans of the Glass Castle and Educated; this memoir struck very similar tones, while being unique to Emilee and her story.
My primary critique is that while her exploration into politics was worthwhile, given 2016 was such a watershed moment in American politics, I felt that it didn’t go much beyond the surface. For me, it didn’t provide any new commentary if you’ve previously grappled with literature about that election!
Thank you to Penguin Press for the advanced reader copy to review! All that’s unseen is out July 28.
Forgive me if this is a bit jumbled, but I just finished this book and am truly so excited about it that I wanted to fire off my thoughts asap. To begin, this is a compelling, poetic, honest, and beautiful memoir that also does a wonderful job of capturing the complexity of Appalachia, which is something I feel the world-at-large isn’t too great at.
It’s easy to label the area as uneducated, unhealthy, and less cultured than the rest of the country - stereotypes that anyone who has ventured out of these hollers has had to cope with in some way. But Appalachia is so much more than those over-simplified labels, and Ms. Hackney’s memoir is a lovely example of how that’s so.
As someone who grew up near her hometown, I related deeply to many of her experiences, but I’m confident that even if you haven’t experienced religious trauma, felt the death of the mining industry in some capacity, etc., you’ll be able to connect to the author’s vulnerability. It’s a beautiful representation of what an Appalachian memoir should be.
Highly recommend.
A huge thank you to Penguin for the advanced copy!
I wish the author had written this book when she was 58 not 28.
More about the time post college to now (which she talks about in interviews for the book)- dropped out of Vanderbilt, she hiked the Appalachian Trail, did not move back to her hometown, has a child and works as English professor? Felt like she wanted to the end the book with her back at home since she constantly implied she would. But that’s not the reality (and that’s okay! Normal! Healthy!)
I felt confused by her never seemingly making her own choices. Even the book was an idea by her professor. She seemed astonished at the idea of finding a job after graduation. Her thesis was about Appalachia but had to find out about the current state of the economy from people when she returned home like Uncle? Had to learn about Trumps track record in Appalachia after being prompted to do so by a faculty member reading her op Ed in the paper?
This book needed reflection. Time. Growth. Would love to read a forward by her in 20 years about this.
Hope she follows her own interests and studies and learns more.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This felt like a non-fiction Demon Copperhead with a female protagonist.
Emilee’s memoir is beautiful and eye opening. It shows the humanity behind poverty and helped me understand why so many people in Appalachia felt drawn to Trump’s message.
I’m not sure if I liked this book or not. I wish politics were left out. I thought the small sections that included politics were not necessary. Also, the use of my truth or his truth ugh… there is only THE truth. I agree with others that rated the book 3 stars; it felt like something was missing and there was no closure.
In All That’s Unseen, Hackney’s memoir thoughtfully depicts her transformation from a devout Pentecostal high schooler from Appalachian Virginia to a secular college student at Harvard. She tackles themes from her upbringing, such as the influence of religion, politics, and economics on her evolving perspective. In a welcome reflection, Hackney is willing to look at her teenage self and analyze how her obsession with religion and boyfriend clouded her judgment, which led to blind spots that inhibited her listening to the wisdom of her parents, especially her mother.
Hackney’s memoir is strongest when she delves into themes like a child’s recognition of her family’s economics with personal anecdotes. For example, when they went to Olive Garden, she ordered minestrone because it was cheap, not because she particularly liked it. In another about religion, she describes extreme reluctance in taking a world religions class in college because of her frustrating experience as a teenager. Yet, she does take the class, and comes to realize that not all religion—or life for that matter—is black and white, and gray often exists. Further, her writing about relationships with certain individuals makes an impact, particularly her teenage boyfriend Sam and Subway coworkers Crystal and Jeremy.
Even so, Hackney’s memoir might have benefited from a less strictly chronological account and one with a more focused thematic narrative. As structured, the memoir has a biographical this-happened-and-then-this-happened feel at times, whereas a more artful and creative thread of memory approach could be more effective. Some topics felt dropped in without much depth or particular relevance such as the Virginia Tech mass shooting or COVID. As Hackney grows as a writer, I imagine her depth of craft will develop too. Indeed, there are other topics that could be explored further such as her relationship with her mother, experience with mental health, and reliance on boyfriends to bring her meaning.
Given the transformative power of higher education theme for a young woman facing challenging beginnings, this book should appeal to those that enjoyed Educated by Tara Westover. Regarding Appalachia, the book should also appeal to those that liked Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. Importantly, however, Hackney’s book shows a more reflective look at Appalachia compared to vice president J.D. Vance’s memoir Hillbilly Elegy, whose writing demonstrated disdain towards his roots. Instead, Hackney is thoughtfully proud of her heritage without omitting the real challenges faced by Appalachia. While both authors went to Ivy League schools, Hackney ultimately emerges with a more nuanced outlook than Vance, who falls victim to stereotypes, which hinders a more balanced perspective.
Reviewed from a copy made available from NetGalley.
Memoir is one of my favorite genres but this was a disappointing read. Some memoirs I’ve loved have been less about the writing itself and more about how compelling the story is. Others have drawn me in because the writing is spellbinding even if the narrative is seemingly more run-of-the-mill. Unfortunately for this book neither the story nor the writing style drew me in. It seems like a biographical timeline of a lot of things that ALMOST happened to the author.
About halfway through I realized I wouldn’t be able to describe much, if anything, about the author or her inner world to someone who asked. The book reads as if written by someone detached from its narrative, not someone who experienced it firsthand. At various points in the book the author would mention she loves Appalachia but I don’t know why she loves it. Not because it’s not lovable (Demon Copperhead made me ache!) but because she didn’t express it in a way that stuck or resonated with me. If I had to tell you what the author learned or how she grew through the story, my answers would be more about things she doesn’t believe any more, not about what she actually thinks now.
All That’s Unseen has everything you want in a memoir- relatability, overcoming, growth and change, and drama. I think Jeremy might be one of my favorite people I’ve never met. The way the writer described her peers and characters made me feel like I knew them, and that’s why I’m convinced Appalachian literature, as someone who knows zilch, is the most faceted one out there. I couldn’t stop turning the pages and rooting for Emilee- I loved to see her thrive and hated to see the times she ached for more, but was so glad to find this one has a pretty decently happy ending for our girl at least. Honestly, if you’re into personable memoirs that have a whole lot of verve and a lot of delicious atmosphere, All That’s Unseen should be your top pick. Thank you so much to Penguin Press for the ARC AND finished copy now!
This one was pretty reminiscent of Hillbilly Elegy. She has an othering gaze and doesn’t give anyone—either back home or at Harvard—much dimension. Even she comes off as flat and cartoonish. At the end, she claims to have had an epiphany about fundamentalism’s structures of thought. I am not so sure she has come through the other side.
I feel conflicted about rating this 3 stars. The first half was gripping. But the second half felt less complete. She just glosses over some major problems she faced … and then never revisits them or how they affected her again. And while she sort of includes her family in the second half, we don’t really get to know them as much as I would have liked. And thennnn she totally avoids writing anything about her current life, and when I read about it from another review I thought it seemed pretty important to include. I’m in agreeance with several other reviews in that I think waiting a little more time to write this book would have provided some much needed clarity and perspective.
I love when I finish a memoir feeling like I’ve actually gotten to know the person who wrote it.
I think the second half of the book, when Hackney really begins to interrogate her own relationship with Appalachia, is where it shines. Her experiences at Harvard—particularly confronting the preconceived notions her peers and professors hold about the region—push her to look more closely at where she comes from and what it means to defend it. Her worldview expands and shifts, but she remains loyal to her roots while arguing for a more sympathetic, nuanced understanding of Appalachia.
There’s a humanity to her story throughout, and a willingness to challenge her own assumptions—especially about her faith—that feels very sincere. She neither romanticizes nor disowns the place she comes from; instead, she asks us to see it—and the people who live there—with more complexity. In many ways, that’s the story she’s telling: how leaving Appalachia gave her the distance to see it differently, and how an expanded worldview ultimately made her more—not less—committed to understanding and defending where she came from.
I liked this a lot better than I thought I would. I didn’t really pick this book. It was a choice in the Goodreads reading challenge and it was the only one available at the time to read. I was never a huge fan of memoirs but I have since changed my opinion. It’s a great way to delve into other’s cultures, belief systems etc. I was thoroughly immersed into rural Virginia and what northerns might call the Bible Belt. Very well written and engaging!!!!
Once I picked this up I couldn’t put it down. I know it’s being compared to Educated, which is going to get old, but it is just as readable as Educated. The writing is superb.
This memoir is such a gift—Emilee’s gorgeous writing, her unflinching candor, the generosity in her storytelling, for the way she both exposes a perspective that is so underrepresented while refusing to flatten Appalachia into its stereotypes or into a sideshow. This is a debut that shines; it’s raw, emotional, and sensitive, and it’s reflective and beautifully wrought. Emilee’s story is distinct, but it is also telling of an American story that is often relegated to tales of woe, not told with love and nuance: a story of high control religion, of being working class in a failing economy, of a dysfunctional young relationship built on evangelical Christianity. This book will fill such a needed place on the shelf of American memoirs and I am so excited for it to make it out in the world.
For me, this book is especially a gift because I am lucky enough to know Emilee and to have walked part of this journey with her. We were two of a dozen transfers to Harvard in the fall of our sophomore year; a tiny cohort at a school where almost no one transfers in or out. It’s incredible to see that experience reflected back in Emilee’s writing, not through the curated lens of what we all showed one another in those awkward, early days when we were all struggling to prove we belonged at Harvard, but with the unvarnished reality.
I am far from an unbiased observer here, but this book was absolutely five stars. I highlighted half the book, struck over and over again by how beautiful and poignant it is. I can’t wait to see what Emilee writes next. Thank you so much to NetGalley and Penguin Press for a free eARC in exchange for an honest review.
There are books you enjoy, and then there are books that quietly unravel pieces of your own story.
I grew up in the same small town, among the same coal fields Emilee calls home. As I turned each page, I wasn’t just reading fiction—I was remembering. Some of the experiences she writes about were my own. Others belonged to neighbors, classmates, family members, or friends. It felt like she had somehow put words to a life so many of us have lived but often struggle to explain.
Appalachia has always been a contradiction. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, yet heartbreakingly burdened. It’s full of people who would give you the shirt off their back, while quietly carrying struggles most of the world never sees. It’s where people hear our accents and decide who we are before we’ve spoken more than a sentence. So many people only see statistics or stereotypes. They don’t see the grit, the loyalty, the humor, the faith, the pride, or the fierce love that exists in these mountains.
I’ve lived away from home for years now, but the mountains have never stopped calling me back. Every single trip home ends the same way—with tears as I drive away. I’ve looked at houses. I’ve sketched out floor plans. I’ve imagined raising my children beneath those mountains that raised me. My heart has begged me to go back more times than I can count.
But then reality settles in.
Tazewell isn’t perfect. Neither is Appalachia. But it is home. It always will be. No matter how far I go or what life I build elsewhere, a part of me will forever belong to those mountains.
Thank you, Emilee, for writing a story that made me feel seen. For telling our story with honesty, compassion, and dignity. And for reminding those of us who left that home isn’t just a place—it’s something you carry with you for the rest of your life.
From one Tazewellian, one Appalachian, to another—you did us proud.
A good book and well written but I didn’t find it satisfying. Big chunks seemed to be missing, such as her parents, who were shadowy figures wringing their hands on the sidelines. It will be interesting to see what our book club thinks of it.
One of the best memoirs I’ve read, by far. It sits in the contradictions of religion, Appalachia, and self-transformation rather than trying to resolve them.
I see so much of myself in this story. Which really isn’t the point of a memoir but Emilee gave me words to articulate my own thoughts and my own story.
As someone from the coalfields of Appalachia too, this book put into words the complicated and beautiful pull of Appalachia. Emilee Hackney honors her Appalachian experience, articulates it beautifully, and invites others to share her experience. What a source of pride! What a gift!
While I appreciated Emilee’s story, it wasn’t earth shattering or anything (at least from my vantage point; maybe it’s more meaningful for someone else).
I have no doubt that this book will do well. A bestseller even. And the author most certainly deserves it. It is well-written, well-executed, and fully fleshed out with no stones left unturned. It held my interest from start to finish. It is a depressing book however, that left me filled with sadness. All That's Unseen is unique in that it is like a reverse memoir. Not chronologically, but behaviorally. Sort of like instead of rags to riches, it is riches to rags, but from an ethical standpoint. The author, as a young child, seemingly wanted to be a force for good in the world, and her actions generally moved in that direction. But when she was engaged, something happened in her life to make her do an abrupt 180 and take a completely different approach to her future. She went from being kind and hopeful and expectant to a life of debauchery. She started sleeping around with just about any man who asked, started using recreational drugs, some drinking, prescription antidepressants, and then, shockingly, prostitution. She felt no shame for any of her behavior, or in helping to lead others astray. As a mother, I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must have been for her parents to see her end up as the person that she was at the completion of this book. But ultimately, I feel great sympathy for her. Her level of gullibility is unusual, she seems to think, for example, that Google and the internet are reliable sources of information, and can be taken at face value. She is overly trusting and easily manipulated. Maybe she will find her way back someday. I hope so. And maybe she will write another memoir on how that transpired. I look forward to reading her redemption arc. ** I received this book for free, but all opinions are my own.
as a fellow appalachian, this memoir struck me in a way no other books have been able to. for me, all that’s unseen is shrouded in this familiarity of home and the struggle of moving away from it. combined with emilee’s accent, the story is purely appalachian from the methods of storytelling to the appreciation of the gem that is the mountains.
emilee shows so much grace to the area while also fairly criticizing it for harmful politics. with one quote she somehow encompasses all that i’ve felt since leaving appalachia—
“if there’s anything truly strange about the mountains it’s that. you’re never quite happy in them and you’re never quite happy beyond them.”
i wouldn’t have asked for any other book to represent my home and hometown and i’m so happy to see some light shown on appalachia <3