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Jane Doe January: My Twenty-Year Search for Truth and Justice – An Intimate Memoir
In the vein of Alice Sebold’s Lucky, comes a compelling, real-life crime mystery and gripping memoir of the cold case prosecution of a serial rapist, told by one of his victims.
On the morning of September 12, 2013, a fugitive task force broke down the door of Arthur Fryar’s apartment in Brooklyn. His DNA, entered in the FBI’s criminal database after a drug conviction, had been matched to evidence from a rape in Pennsylvania years earlier. Over the next year, Fryar and his lawyer fought his extradition and prosecution for the rape—and another like it—which occurred in 1992. The names of the victims, one from January, the other from November, were suppressed; the prosecution and the media referred to them as Jane Doe.
Now, Jane Doe January tells her story.
Emily Winslow was a young drama student at Carnegie Mellon University’s elite conservatory in Pittsburgh when a man brutally attacked and raped her in January 1992. While the police's search for her rapist proved futile, Emily reclaimed her life. Over the course of the next two decades, she fell in love, married, had two children, and began writing mystery novels set in her new hometown of Cambridge, England. Then, in fall 2013, she received shocking news—the police had found her rapist.
This is her intimate memoir—the story of a woman’s traumatic past catching up with her, in a country far from home, surrounded by people who have no idea what she’s endured. Caught between past and present, and between two very different cultures, the inquisitive and restless crime novelist searches for clarity. Beginning her own investigation, she delves into Fryar’s family and past, reconnects with the detectives of her case, and works with prosecutors in the months leading to trial.
As she recounts her long-term quest for closure, Winslow offers a heartbreakingly honest look at a vicious crime—and offers invaluable insights into the mind and heart of a victim.
On the morning of September 12, 2013, a fugitive task force broke down the door of Arthur Fryar’s apartment in Brooklyn. His DNA, entered in the FBI’s criminal database after a drug conviction, had been matched to evidence from a rape in Pennsylvania years earlier. Over the next year, Fryar and his lawyer fought his extradition and prosecution for the rape—and another like it—which occurred in 1992. The names of the victims, one from January, the other from November, were suppressed; the prosecution and the media referred to them as Jane Doe.
Now, Jane Doe January tells her story.
Emily Winslow was a young drama student at Carnegie Mellon University’s elite conservatory in Pittsburgh when a man brutally attacked and raped her in January 1992. While the police's search for her rapist proved futile, Emily reclaimed her life. Over the course of the next two decades, she fell in love, married, had two children, and began writing mystery novels set in her new hometown of Cambridge, England. Then, in fall 2013, she received shocking news—the police had found her rapist.
This is her intimate memoir—the story of a woman’s traumatic past catching up with her, in a country far from home, surrounded by people who have no idea what she’s endured. Caught between past and present, and between two very different cultures, the inquisitive and restless crime novelist searches for clarity. Beginning her own investigation, she delves into Fryar’s family and past, reconnects with the detectives of her case, and works with prosecutors in the months leading to trial.
As she recounts her long-term quest for closure, Winslow offers a heartbreakingly honest look at a vicious crime—and offers invaluable insights into the mind and heart of a victim.
304 pages, Paperback
First published May 24, 2016
16 people are currently reading
1109 people want to read
About the author
Emily Winslow
15 books135 followersEmily Winslow is the author of a series of crime novels and a memoir. Her books have been published by Random House, HarperCollins, Allison & Busby, and Shanghai Translation Publishing House.
Her novels (The Whole World, The Start of Everything, The Red House, and Look For Her) have been called “brilliant” (The Washington Post), “vivid” (Parade magazine) and “dazzling” (Shelf Awareness). Her memoir, Jane Doe January, is “meticulously constructed and ultimately terrifying” (The New York Times), “potent” (Kirkus), and “compelling” (Bustle).
She grew up in the U.S. and now lives in Cambridge, England teaching for the University of Cambridge and for Cambridge Creative Writing Company.
Her novels (The Whole World, The Start of Everything, The Red House, and Look For Her) have been called “brilliant” (The Washington Post), “vivid” (Parade magazine) and “dazzling” (Shelf Awareness). Her memoir, Jane Doe January, is “meticulously constructed and ultimately terrifying” (The New York Times), “potent” (Kirkus), and “compelling” (Bustle).
She grew up in the U.S. and now lives in Cambridge, England teaching for the University of Cambridge and for Cambridge Creative Writing Company.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 71 reviews
June 9, 2016
When Emily Winslow was in college in Pittsburgh about twenty years ago, she was raped by a stranger who was never found. Or never found, that is, until the DNA of a man nabbed for a similar attack matched the DNA in Winslow's rape kit, two decades later. Winslow, now a successful writer of mystery novels living in England with her husband and two children, thus finds herself embroiled in a trial that's happening on the other side of the Atlantic. In the course of this memoir, she crisscrosses both the miles and years as she tries to come to terms with this unearthing of her past and belated chance for justice.
Jane Doe January has an unusual structure. It's highly personal and seems almost like a diary, except that Winslow, already a writer by trade, probably knew all along she'd be publishing it, so there is a welcome level of polish to the proceedings. Still, Winslow doesn't try to hide or sugarcoat anything--her emotions (and language) are often raw, and she sometimes comes across as rather self-centered in her expectations for how others should react to what she's going through. I didn't mind this, though--in her situation I would probably be even more self-absorbed, and I deeply appreciated her honesty and willingness to show us everything she's going through, regardless of how flattering a picture it is.
One advantage to being 20 years removed from her rape is that Winslow, by virtue of both age and distance, is keenly observational of the way the legal system works, of how she has been and will be perceived, and of how her rapist will be perceived, and this is all extremely interesting and insightful. (I wanted to quote some of her thoughts in my review, but I decided I'd rather people read them for themselves.) Despite being constantly frustrated with all the red tape involved in going to trial, Winslow also has a refreshing attitude toward her legal team in the Pittsburgh D.A.'s office--she sees them as her champions and her attack dogs, and feels protected by them. We criticize our public servants so much these days that it was nice to read a detailed account of all the ways these people really are working tirelessly to do some good in the world.
Despite this uplifting element, Jane Doe January is a tough book whose emotions run the gamut from anger to sadness to confusion to disappointment, but somehow it was a page-turner anyway, and the issues it deals with are so important that I fervently hope it finds a wide audience.
I won this book in a First Reads giveaway here on Goodreads.
Jane Doe January has an unusual structure. It's highly personal and seems almost like a diary, except that Winslow, already a writer by trade, probably knew all along she'd be publishing it, so there is a welcome level of polish to the proceedings. Still, Winslow doesn't try to hide or sugarcoat anything--her emotions (and language) are often raw, and she sometimes comes across as rather self-centered in her expectations for how others should react to what she's going through. I didn't mind this, though--in her situation I would probably be even more self-absorbed, and I deeply appreciated her honesty and willingness to show us everything she's going through, regardless of how flattering a picture it is.
One advantage to being 20 years removed from her rape is that Winslow, by virtue of both age and distance, is keenly observational of the way the legal system works, of how she has been and will be perceived, and of how her rapist will be perceived, and this is all extremely interesting and insightful. (I wanted to quote some of her thoughts in my review, but I decided I'd rather people read them for themselves.) Despite being constantly frustrated with all the red tape involved in going to trial, Winslow also has a refreshing attitude toward her legal team in the Pittsburgh D.A.'s office--she sees them as her champions and her attack dogs, and feels protected by them. We criticize our public servants so much these days that it was nice to read a detailed account of all the ways these people really are working tirelessly to do some good in the world.
Despite this uplifting element, Jane Doe January is a tough book whose emotions run the gamut from anger to sadness to confusion to disappointment, but somehow it was a page-turner anyway, and the issues it deals with are so important that I fervently hope it finds a wide audience.
I won this book in a First Reads giveaway here on Goodreads.
August 18, 2016
I agree with the author's advice to victims of sexual violence that appears in the afterward, but I can't help but feel like many victims would have a hard time relating to her particular story. I didn't care about most of the details she shared -- especially those about her daily life as a choir mom in Cambridge-- and I didn't find her descriptions of her quest for justice very compelling. I also yearned for a greater exploration of the role that race and class played in the story; I felt like she just barely lazily glossed over these issues. Though she made her upper class status very clear (with references to summer homes, international choir trips, fancy dinner parties with 10 types of ice cream?!) she didn't take the time to really reflect on or emphasize the connection between her privileged position and the fact that all those people she encountered after the rape were always so "kind" to her. I imagine many rape victims-- especially those from less privileged racial or social backgrounds-- would just roll their eyes while reading. I'm fairly privileged myself and I couldn't help feeling annoyed.
I feel bad saying that I didn't find the narrator likable because I know what she experienced was horrible and she was obviously deeply traumatized. I just didn't find her thoughts particularly interesting.
I feel bad saying that I didn't find the narrator likable because I know what she experienced was horrible and she was obviously deeply traumatized. I just didn't find her thoughts particularly interesting.
August 1, 2016
Author Emily Winslow has written, in this book, a very brave and forthright account of her search for justice after being raped as a student. Although the author now lives in Cambridge, she was born in America and it was in 1992, when she was a drama student in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, that the attack occurred. She tells the facts of that event, and the aftermath, with a terrible clarity. The events which led to this confident young woman having flashbacks for months afterwards and having to confront something that nobody should have to deal with.
It is many years after this event, when Winslow is a happily married mother, with two young sons, that she receives some startling news. After twenty one years, the man who raped her has been identified through his DNA and has been arrested and charged for his attack on another woman. Her reaction is heartfelt – she wants him charged for what he did to her. This is something that she needs to do, and so begins her attempts to have this man charged for his attack on her, and for her to have her chance to give evidence against him.
The author allows that some victims prefer the general policy of the Sex Assault Unit to leave victims alone after the attack, unless there is fresh evidence. Some appreciate that and want to forget and get on with their lives. Obviously, this is not how she feels – admitting to feeling abandoned. She is even aware that she wants to, “know everything,” after one phone call to a less than sympathetic official on the phone leaves her shaken. “Doesn’t everyone?” she asks – meaning, doesn’t everyone feel the same as she does. She is concerned she appears obsessive, even to her husband. However, it is impossible to judge this woman, after what happened to her. Personally, I felt her need for control and information was understandable and perfectly normal.
This a book which deals with the legalities of her attackers arrest after so long. It is full of delays, problems, the protracted journey towards a possible Court Case. However, it is also about the author’s life now – her family, friends and those who help her on this journey. It is a brave book and I applaud her for writing it. I felt, if anything, she did not need to apologise for her character and search for the truth. It is something she needed to do to find some sort of closure and, although this is not necessarily an enjoyable read, due to the subject matter, it is a fascinating one. I would highly recommend it to reading groups, as it offers so much to discuss.
It is many years after this event, when Winslow is a happily married mother, with two young sons, that she receives some startling news. After twenty one years, the man who raped her has been identified through his DNA and has been arrested and charged for his attack on another woman. Her reaction is heartfelt – she wants him charged for what he did to her. This is something that she needs to do, and so begins her attempts to have this man charged for his attack on her, and for her to have her chance to give evidence against him.
The author allows that some victims prefer the general policy of the Sex Assault Unit to leave victims alone after the attack, unless there is fresh evidence. Some appreciate that and want to forget and get on with their lives. Obviously, this is not how she feels – admitting to feeling abandoned. She is even aware that she wants to, “know everything,” after one phone call to a less than sympathetic official on the phone leaves her shaken. “Doesn’t everyone?” she asks – meaning, doesn’t everyone feel the same as she does. She is concerned she appears obsessive, even to her husband. However, it is impossible to judge this woman, after what happened to her. Personally, I felt her need for control and information was understandable and perfectly normal.
This a book which deals with the legalities of her attackers arrest after so long. It is full of delays, problems, the protracted journey towards a possible Court Case. However, it is also about the author’s life now – her family, friends and those who help her on this journey. It is a brave book and I applaud her for writing it. I felt, if anything, she did not need to apologise for her character and search for the truth. It is something she needed to do to find some sort of closure and, although this is not necessarily an enjoyable read, due to the subject matter, it is a fascinating one. I would highly recommend it to reading groups, as it offers so much to discuss.
September 12, 2016
As an odd kind of mini-disclaimer, I feel like I should share that I’ve never truly supported someone through the physical or mental aftermath of rape, so I feel particularly disqualified to make a judgment call on how “relatable” this story would be to someone looking for solidarity. Winslow’s rape and her healing process are like anyone else’s: unique to her. No matter how I feel about her as a person, she was the victim of a terrifying and horrendous crime. She deserves support. She deserves justice. Unquestionably.
That being said, I have a hard, hard time imagining anyone connecting to the author.
There are multiple reasons for this, one of the biggest being her own self-ignorance. She has a way of making it clear that she lives in a bubble beyond reach. Example:
“Urgent things have been completed: I’ve finished a revision of my next novel and am in a lull while others are reading it. I’ve dug up our tax numbers and handed them in to our UK accountant, barely making a deadline for her to be able to turn those numbers into finished returns. Gavin puts off business trips he’s supposed to be booking. We brainstorm childcare options depending on what date the hearing may fall.”
It's one thing to be rich, but it's another thing to be rich while denying that it's a privilege. Can we count the ways? I just can't imagine that many people would be able to relate to the idea of a spouse being able to put off business, or the fact that it's not a question of if childcare can be found when mom hops on an international flight, but what kind of childcare. Add in details about living in Europe as a choir mom novelist who somehow manages to make a beloved community member's death all about her, and I'm left gritting my teeth.
This sort of daily life insight pops up again and again and it's not interesting. It paints her in a poor light. I don't care to read these details, and I think they echo all the more loudly because she does not consider the effects of her lifestyle in a larger context. Between all the Facebook stalking and Google searching she does, where is an examination of race and class? You're either in Winslow's world or out of it, and so you end up with scenes where she struggles to understand how her rapist could have such violent urges since he had access to music as a child. Having an outlet worked for her, so why not for him?
I was torn throughout the whole book, though. I felt incredibly guilty when I realized I didn't like her, and it was a continual cycle of shame and anger. Here you go:
“I’m sick of waiting, and I piss Detective Campbell off. I can tell that she’s annoyed with my repeated requests for an explanation of the rescheduled hearings. I am demanding, but only of information that already exists. I can be patient for information that’s still being created, but, once something is known, I want to know it, too. It’s maddening that New York won’t be more open about what’s going on with the extradition hearings, and maddening that Campbell won’t dog them.”
Perfect example. How can I hate on a rape survivor’s interest in her own case—especially now, on the cusp of a trial that she’s been waiting over 20 years for? How can I fault her for wanting to know what’s going on, for feeling frustrated when her needs are not being met? It feels utterly wrong to call anything about her behavior selfish, but that quote (and the many others like it) still makes me want to grind my teeth. You can fight for what you’re deserved without resorting to nastiness.
Most of the time, she seems unable to empathize. Perhaps there are privacy concerns on Campbell’s end that prevent her from sharing details. Perhaps Campbell has a heavy workload. I was angry with Winslow for her expectations. Another example would be after the first hearing when she returns home to Cambridge after testifying in America and feels frustrated that no one will ask her for specific details. She feels like she’s given the green light for questioning, but everyone’s still silent and Winslow is angry because “making the traumatized person beg, over and over again, for every individual interaction, is a bit much.” Do you expect them to read your mind?
Anyway, while I think I've been almost too clear on the amount of dislike I have for the author as a person, I think she should win some points for transparency. She had to have known (...right?) that sharing her demands would make her come across as selfish, but she did it anyway. She kept it real. She shared her moments of weakness and judgement and I think I'd be naive if I claimed that I wouldn't feel the same way in her shoes. I also think she has some real writing skill, even if it's overshadowed by boring structure.
Overall, a book to avoid.
That being said, I have a hard, hard time imagining anyone connecting to the author.
There are multiple reasons for this, one of the biggest being her own self-ignorance. She has a way of making it clear that she lives in a bubble beyond reach. Example:
“Urgent things have been completed: I’ve finished a revision of my next novel and am in a lull while others are reading it. I’ve dug up our tax numbers and handed them in to our UK accountant, barely making a deadline for her to be able to turn those numbers into finished returns. Gavin puts off business trips he’s supposed to be booking. We brainstorm childcare options depending on what date the hearing may fall.”
It's one thing to be rich, but it's another thing to be rich while denying that it's a privilege. Can we count the ways? I just can't imagine that many people would be able to relate to the idea of a spouse being able to put off business, or the fact that it's not a question of if childcare can be found when mom hops on an international flight, but what kind of childcare. Add in details about living in Europe as a choir mom novelist who somehow manages to make a beloved community member's death all about her, and I'm left gritting my teeth.
This sort of daily life insight pops up again and again and it's not interesting. It paints her in a poor light. I don't care to read these details, and I think they echo all the more loudly because she does not consider the effects of her lifestyle in a larger context. Between all the Facebook stalking and Google searching she does, where is an examination of race and class? You're either in Winslow's world or out of it, and so you end up with scenes where she struggles to understand how her rapist could have such violent urges since he had access to music as a child. Having an outlet worked for her, so why not for him?
I was torn throughout the whole book, though. I felt incredibly guilty when I realized I didn't like her, and it was a continual cycle of shame and anger. Here you go:
“I’m sick of waiting, and I piss Detective Campbell off. I can tell that she’s annoyed with my repeated requests for an explanation of the rescheduled hearings. I am demanding, but only of information that already exists. I can be patient for information that’s still being created, but, once something is known, I want to know it, too. It’s maddening that New York won’t be more open about what’s going on with the extradition hearings, and maddening that Campbell won’t dog them.”
Perfect example. How can I hate on a rape survivor’s interest in her own case—especially now, on the cusp of a trial that she’s been waiting over 20 years for? How can I fault her for wanting to know what’s going on, for feeling frustrated when her needs are not being met? It feels utterly wrong to call anything about her behavior selfish, but that quote (and the many others like it) still makes me want to grind my teeth. You can fight for what you’re deserved without resorting to nastiness.
Most of the time, she seems unable to empathize. Perhaps there are privacy concerns on Campbell’s end that prevent her from sharing details. Perhaps Campbell has a heavy workload. I was angry with Winslow for her expectations. Another example would be after the first hearing when she returns home to Cambridge after testifying in America and feels frustrated that no one will ask her for specific details. She feels like she’s given the green light for questioning, but everyone’s still silent and Winslow is angry because “making the traumatized person beg, over and over again, for every individual interaction, is a bit much.” Do you expect them to read your mind?
Anyway, while I think I've been almost too clear on the amount of dislike I have for the author as a person, I think she should win some points for transparency. She had to have known (...right?) that sharing her demands would make her come across as selfish, but she did it anyway. She kept it real. She shared her moments of weakness and judgement and I think I'd be naive if I claimed that I wouldn't feel the same way in her shoes. I also think she has some real writing skill, even if it's overshadowed by boring structure.
Overall, a book to avoid.
May 20, 2016
In 1992, Emily Winslow was walking back home when a man jumped from the shadows of the stairwell, pushed her into her apartment and brutally attacked her. Her rapist was never caught and Emily moved on with her life. She became a writer, married, had kids. And then, two decades later, she got the news: Law enforcement had found her attacker and now she would finally have the chance to seek justice for what had been done to her.
Jane Doe January is a deep and heartbreaking story detailing the struggles Emily Winslow had to go through, not only after her attack, but 20 years later as her past caught up to her and brought back all the awful memories. It is a brutally honest and blunt memoir that made me feel uncomfortable in more than one occasion.
Full review at Joie des Livres!
Jane Doe January is a deep and heartbreaking story detailing the struggles Emily Winslow had to go through, not only after her attack, but 20 years later as her past caught up to her and brought back all the awful memories. It is a brutally honest and blunt memoir that made me feel uncomfortable in more than one occasion.
Full review at Joie des Livres!
November 25, 2016
I've read a small handful of memoirs about rape this year, and here's something that stands out to me: these are women who were believed. In Winslow's telling, and in Ruth Everhart's, and in Karyn L. Freedman's, that is one of the things that, perhaps, makes it possible to tell the story; both that and the fact that these books have been written (years later) speak to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things are getting better for rape survivors.
I have somewhat mixed feelings about Jane Doe January. Partly I think the description/subtitle are a bit misleading; it's not so much about those twenty years as it is about the immediate aftermath and the, twenty years later, what happened when Winslow's rapist was identified. It does not—through no fault of Winslow's—end in any of the ways I might have anticipated.
Winslow does a lot of self-interrogation throughout the book, but I often wanted that interrogation to dig deeper, to probe different things. She acknowledges, for example, that she was a 'perfect victim' of sorts: white and a virgin (Christian and saving herself for marriage) and from a well-off family, while her rapist was black and had a criminal background and was not from money. The sorts of things that would make her look 'better' in a juror's eyes and him look 'worse', regardless of role. But once acknowledged, that isn't really readdressed: Winslow digs as far into the rapist's life as she can (not far, since she's dealing largely with what's in public record), but there was perhaps more digging to do in terms of...context, I guess. (A note: I'm very okay with very long prison sentences for rapists, but that doesn't change the fact of racially biased justice systems, or the need for interrogation of those systems.) I also wanted some more digging about...need for attention and acknowledgement? By which I mean: it 100% makes sense that she wanted certain kinds of attention and acknowledgement throughout the prosecution process; I do not fault her in the slightest for that. Similarly, of course that is the sort of life-eclipsing event that leaves one with little room to think about other things or worry about other people. I do find it a little odd, however that, in writing about it later, Winslow only barely mentions, in passing, that there were, for example, other people relying on the minister who had been counselling her, or that the other people involved in the prosecution had personal stuff going on in their own lives. Makes perfect sense that she wasn't thinking about those in the moment, but I wished there'd been a bit more reflection throughout the book.
So yes, a somewhat tepid reaction from me—and yet I do want to acknowledge how very very important it is to have books like this one out there: ones that question whether you can forgive somebody and also want them to spend decades in prison; ones that question the pressure to forgive in the first place; ones that let the reader into the mess that is aftermath; ones that acknowledge, directly, that not all survivors are the same, or want the same things, or feel the same feelings, or react in the same way. I wish so many things had been different for Winslow, but I am glad she was able to share her story.
I have somewhat mixed feelings about Jane Doe January. Partly I think the description/subtitle are a bit misleading; it's not so much about those twenty years as it is about the immediate aftermath and the, twenty years later, what happened when Winslow's rapist was identified. It does not—through no fault of Winslow's—end in any of the ways I might have anticipated.
Winslow does a lot of self-interrogation throughout the book, but I often wanted that interrogation to dig deeper, to probe different things. She acknowledges, for example, that she was a 'perfect victim' of sorts: white and a virgin (Christian and saving herself for marriage) and from a well-off family, while her rapist was black and had a criminal background and was not from money. The sorts of things that would make her look 'better' in a juror's eyes and him look 'worse', regardless of role. But once acknowledged, that isn't really readdressed: Winslow digs as far into the rapist's life as she can (not far, since she's dealing largely with what's in public record), but there was perhaps more digging to do in terms of...context, I guess. (A note: I'm very okay with very long prison sentences for rapists, but that doesn't change the fact of racially biased justice systems, or the need for interrogation of those systems.) I also wanted some more digging about...need for attention and acknowledgement? By which I mean: it 100% makes sense that she wanted certain kinds of attention and acknowledgement throughout the prosecution process; I do not fault her in the slightest for that. Similarly, of course that is the sort of life-eclipsing event that leaves one with little room to think about other things or worry about other people. I do find it a little odd, however that, in writing about it later, Winslow only barely mentions, in passing, that there were, for example, other people relying on the minister who had been counselling her, or that the other people involved in the prosecution had personal stuff going on in their own lives. Makes perfect sense that she wasn't thinking about those in the moment, but I wished there'd been a bit more reflection throughout the book.
So yes, a somewhat tepid reaction from me—and yet I do want to acknowledge how very very important it is to have books like this one out there: ones that question whether you can forgive somebody and also want them to spend decades in prison; ones that question the pressure to forgive in the first place; ones that let the reader into the mess that is aftermath; ones that acknowledge, directly, that not all survivors are the same, or want the same things, or feel the same feelings, or react in the same way. I wish so many things had been different for Winslow, but I am glad she was able to share her story.
February 5, 2018
I agree with many of the other reviewers that the afterword was the best part. I found it to be genuine, thoughtful, and in many ways redeeming. Yet it seems overshadowed by her downplaying of acquaintance rape earlier in the book and by her self-congratulatory descriptions of herself as the "perfect victim" because of her sober virginity.
Most of this book is without structure and consists of play-by-plays of Google search results and email lists telling her friends exactly how to react to her. While the subject by nature requires some self-indulgence, it wasn't exactly compelling. Nor was her apparent indifference to the idea that her incredibly affluent, rich background (see summer homes and the ability to fly abroad at the drop of a hat) might have afforded her privileges not available to other victims.
It's important to note here, that while I found the author incredibly unlikable, this IN NO WAY undermines the terrible thing that was done to her or how much she deserves justice or support. The outcome of the book is just as upsetting and frustrating to me as others. I also think she brings up briefly a very powerful point, that by forcing victims to give details of the pain and suffering they've been through to prove the severity of the crime to a jury, we seemingly give offenders power over them a second time. That was one of the few, if only, times I found the novel to be poignant. And while I'm sure writing this was both hard and therapeutic, it comes down to the fact that it just wasn't good.
I can't help but wonder if it might have made a much more powerful 5,000 word magazine article. It feels like some meaningful editing would have given the important parts needed accentuation. I also really enjoyed her poem at the beginning and might have enjoyed a book of poems on the subject, especially if they incorporated other authors. For those looking at this in the meantime, I highly recommend Missoula instead.
Most of this book is without structure and consists of play-by-plays of Google search results and email lists telling her friends exactly how to react to her. While the subject by nature requires some self-indulgence, it wasn't exactly compelling. Nor was her apparent indifference to the idea that her incredibly affluent, rich background (see summer homes and the ability to fly abroad at the drop of a hat) might have afforded her privileges not available to other victims.
It's important to note here, that while I found the author incredibly unlikable, this IN NO WAY undermines the terrible thing that was done to her or how much she deserves justice or support. The outcome of the book is just as upsetting and frustrating to me as others. I also think she brings up briefly a very powerful point, that by forcing victims to give details of the pain and suffering they've been through to prove the severity of the crime to a jury, we seemingly give offenders power over them a second time. That was one of the few, if only, times I found the novel to be poignant. And while I'm sure writing this was both hard and therapeutic, it comes down to the fact that it just wasn't good.
I can't help but wonder if it might have made a much more powerful 5,000 word magazine article. It feels like some meaningful editing would have given the important parts needed accentuation. I also really enjoyed her poem at the beginning and might have enjoyed a book of poems on the subject, especially if they incorporated other authors. For those looking at this in the meantime, I highly recommend Missoula instead.
July 1, 2016
In 1992 Emily Winslow was raped while going to Carnegie Mellon as a drama student in Pittsburgh. The culprit was never found and it was up to Emily to rebuild her life. Without giving in to the horror of the incident, she completed college went on to a career in writing , married , had 2 children and moved to England with her husband, Gavin. She couldn't forget but she was not about to let the incident destroy her life.
And then a miracle happened , a rape victim in New York City was raped by the same man who had attacked her... Arthur Fryar. New modern DNA testing was about to connect the two rapes. Emily had mixed feelings in that she had successfully created a new life but it was time to face her attacker and help put him away for the rest of his life.
Even though at times the pace of this book tends to be a little slow , remember that justice must prevail and we are talking about a 20 year gap. Emily is determined to see this through as the two cases are brought together to convict Fryar. I , too, felt that I was there to support Winslow.
Emily has built a successful new life but the horror of the incident never leaves. As the lawyers in two states attempt to bring the cases together and see Fryar tried in one courtroom, for Emily details will have to be revisited. Through the help of the attorneys and her family, Emily is determined to see this through.
This book is so powerful because you know it is a true story and you are seeing it through the author's eyes.
And then a miracle happened , a rape victim in New York City was raped by the same man who had attacked her... Arthur Fryar. New modern DNA testing was about to connect the two rapes. Emily had mixed feelings in that she had successfully created a new life but it was time to face her attacker and help put him away for the rest of his life.
Even though at times the pace of this book tends to be a little slow , remember that justice must prevail and we are talking about a 20 year gap. Emily is determined to see this through as the two cases are brought together to convict Fryar. I , too, felt that I was there to support Winslow.
Emily has built a successful new life but the horror of the incident never leaves. As the lawyers in two states attempt to bring the cases together and see Fryar tried in one courtroom, for Emily details will have to be revisited. Through the help of the attorneys and her family, Emily is determined to see this through.
This book is so powerful because you know it is a true story and you are seeing it through the author's eyes.
August 2, 2016
There's an awful lot about this book that I didn't like, first and foremost the author herself. While there is no denying the horrible trauma she suffered, by page 70 I was fed up with her. She needed so much attention, so much validation, that I began to think "Enough!". She seems bewildered that some police officers got impatient with her constant calls and e-mails. She couldn't understand why her friends in Cambridge and her church congregation weren't hanging on every word, ravenous for details. She goes on at length about how she wants her own day in court, that she doesn't want Jane Doe November to get it all before she does. I just started flipping the pages by page 100 and skipped over whole chapters towards the end.
I can't help but compare this tedious book with one I read earlier this year and really admired. That was I Will Find You by Joanna Connors, a superior book in every way.
I can't help but compare this tedious book with one I read earlier this year and really admired. That was I Will Find You by Joanna Connors, a superior book in every way.
June 20, 2016
Ugh. I wanted to like this book, and from the reviews I thought that I would. It is hard to give it more than two stars since I really didn't like the narrator and felt like I was just finishing it to say that I did.
August 25, 2016
In no way could this disturbing book be called an enjoyable read. That said, it is as gripping as any thriller and as compelling. The author was raped in 1992. More than twenty years later and living in a different country it seems as though her rapist has been caught. In 1992 in Pittsburgh Emily Winslow was a drama student when she was attacked in her apartment and raped. This was no date gone wrong but an appalling attack by a stranger.
This well written, disturbing and intensely personal memoir tells the story of that attack and its aftermath and how the author faced and dealt with the perpetrator's arrest and trial over twenty years later. By that time she was married with two children and living in Cambridge, England so the arrest and trial meant many trips across the Atlantic.
Ultimately this is the memoir of a survivor and it will provide hope for those who have been attacked in similar circumstances. It shows graphically how the author's thoughts and feelings oscillated from day to day through all the human emotions as she was forced to relive the rape time and time again. I recommend this book to anyone who has been attacked and is struggling with the aftermath and to anyone who wants to know how a victim feels and how she rebuilds a life for herself.
This well written, disturbing and intensely personal memoir tells the story of that attack and its aftermath and how the author faced and dealt with the perpetrator's arrest and trial over twenty years later. By that time she was married with two children and living in Cambridge, England so the arrest and trial meant many trips across the Atlantic.
Ultimately this is the memoir of a survivor and it will provide hope for those who have been attacked in similar circumstances. It shows graphically how the author's thoughts and feelings oscillated from day to day through all the human emotions as she was forced to relive the rape time and time again. I recommend this book to anyone who has been attacked and is struggling with the aftermath and to anyone who wants to know how a victim feels and how she rebuilds a life for herself.
March 12, 2018
Jane Doe was raped in 1992 and 20 years later her rapist was found and was put on trial. This book follows the year leading up to the trial as Jane searches for information about the case, the rapist, and thoroughly details the minutiae of her life (choir practice, buying shoes, booking flights, rearranging vacations).
I love true crime, but this daily diary of a very privileged woman who was flying back and forth between Cambridge, England and Pittsburgh was 80% her daily life and 20% true crime details related to the case. It was so monotonous. I'm not sure why I listened to the end.
The audiobook narrator spoke at a snail's pace and I listened to it at 1.5x speed.
Book Riot's 2018 Read Harder Challenge - A book of true crime.
I love true crime, but this daily diary of a very privileged woman who was flying back and forth between Cambridge, England and Pittsburgh was 80% her daily life and 20% true crime details related to the case. It was so monotonous. I'm not sure why I listened to the end.
The audiobook narrator spoke at a snail's pace and I listened to it at 1.5x speed.
Book Riot's 2018 Read Harder Challenge - A book of true crime.
July 27, 2016
I read this book primarily because I know Bill Valenta. I was thrilled to hear how much Emily Winslow esteems him and how kind he has been to her. I love books that are set in my hometown, Pittsburgh. But, I really, really did not like Emily Winslow. I know what happened to her was horrible and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But she herself states what appears to be the theme of this book on page 176, "I'm selfish, angry, and lonely . . . ". I found the Afterword to be the best part of this book. Don't skip over it.
May 1, 2016
Jane Doe January is an absolutely stunning book. It left me breathless.
One woman's intimate story about her fight for human rights, Jane Doe January should be mandatory reading for law students—for every college student.
If I could recommend only one book this year, Jane Doe January would be it. I have goosebumps just thinking about Emily Winslow's nearly perfect prose, her blunt revelations, her bravery.
I hope this book sets all the right fires.
One woman's intimate story about her fight for human rights, Jane Doe January should be mandatory reading for law students—for every college student.
If I could recommend only one book this year, Jane Doe January would be it. I have goosebumps just thinking about Emily Winslow's nearly perfect prose, her blunt revelations, her bravery.
I hope this book sets all the right fires.
December 19, 2019
Emily is raped, her rapist is not found, and she moves on. 20 years later the rapist is found. Emily takes us through her emotional journey as well as the legal system that is designed to serve justice, but oh how evasive that is.
November 26, 2018
There were moments of this book that I think struck the right tone. Wanting to protect her children, Googling the perpetrator only to find the monotony of a seemingly normal life, and to some extent the long, drawn-out process of waiting for the justice system to do its work.
But, I think it will be difficult for people to relate to this book.
Many have mentioned being turned-off by Emily's privilege. I think it goes so much farther than wealth - she is able to pick and choose her support system based on the type of reaction they grant her. She is able to speak openly and honestly about the events in 1992 with no backlash or repercussions. She has a support system, which many, many people who have suffered horrible abuse do not. While this is usually a wonderful thing, Emily seems to take it for granted, and even seems to be dismissive and ranks her friends based on their responses to her seemingly constant stream of email updates. Now, I know people handle stress/tragedy in different ways, but this seemed so jarring to me.
It goes without saying that Emily did not ask for, nor deserve in any way, what happened to her. It is a tragedy and quite disgusting that the crime took so long to come to light. She deserves justice. And Arthur deserves to rot in prison. But I found it so hard to connect to Emily and her day-to-day life.
But, I think it will be difficult for people to relate to this book.
Many have mentioned being turned-off by Emily's privilege. I think it goes so much farther than wealth - she is able to pick and choose her support system based on the type of reaction they grant her. She is able to speak openly and honestly about the events in 1992 with no backlash or repercussions. She has a support system, which many, many people who have suffered horrible abuse do not. While this is usually a wonderful thing, Emily seems to take it for granted, and even seems to be dismissive and ranks her friends based on their responses to her seemingly constant stream of email updates. Now, I know people handle stress/tragedy in different ways, but this seemed so jarring to me.
It goes without saying that Emily did not ask for, nor deserve in any way, what happened to her. It is a tragedy and quite disgusting that the crime took so long to come to light. She deserves justice. And Arthur deserves to rot in prison. But I found it so hard to connect to Emily and her day-to-day life.
January 16, 2017
Emily was in college in Pittsburgh about a decade before me, but her story is unfortunately not unlike many of those stories I was always hearing on the news. She was raped in her Shadyside apartment by an assailant that wasn't identified until 20 years later. The perpetrator wouldn't have even been found if she wasn't constantly staying on the detectives, trying to match her case to other rapes, and then begging to have her DNA tested for matches. This book is a very raw look at her emotions over the course of finding the assailant to over a year later when the case is resolved or should I say unresolved forever (yes, even with damning DNA evidence, there is a disappointing ending like most rape cases). Obviously each rape and each survivor is different. Her story is one of being relentless in pursuing her case, gathering every detail she can about the perp, and wanting to talk about all the details (which people have trouble understanding). However, she also doesn't have to deal with some issues that many do. It was a stranger rape with good evidence so there was little victim blaming or people not taking her seriously. She also had very understanding peers and teachers that helped her get through the immediate aftermath and graduating on time. Furthermore, she is well off and has the time and money to pursue the case and fly back and forth from her now home of England for any potential hearings and trials. She points this all out because it is hard to not acknowledge that class and race and other circumstances could have led people to brush off the entire brutal crime. I have a ton of respect for this author and her story is very well written. It's very honest and her way of viewing a brutal crime is similar to how I view things (she is religious but can point out bullshit like that she should not forgive the perp). However, since it is written almost like a diary it is very redundant as she goes through the same feelings and experiences repeatedly. There are also many tidbits about her day to day life which can get a bit mundane after a while. I know she is trying to convey that she is working and parenting and homeschooling two boys during all this, but I was not reading it to hear her son's choir performance being professionally recorded or his school trip to Switzerland. It takes a while to find out what happens as it's in the last twenty pages or so.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 27, 2016
Jane Doe January - My Twenty-Year Search for Truth and Justice by Emily Winslow is an honest, raw, courageous memoir by someone looking to finally bring closure to a devastating event in her life. Emily was a drama student at Carnegie-Mellon when she was followed one night and brutally raped in January 1992. The perpetrator was not caught. She subsequently graduated, moved to Cambridge, England, became a writer, a wife and a mother. Still the horrific memories of that night were always with her, and she wanted justice. Twenty years later, she learns that the DNA from her case matches the DNA of another attack in Pittsburgh, and that it is possible for her case to be linked to the new one. She may actually get to confront him and find the justice she longs for.
Emily bravely and skillfully takes the reader through all of the facts of her case, how she felt, how she adapted, her quest to be able to face her rapist and have him punished. This is not an easy read - at times you feel your heartbreak - but it is a good one, and an important one.
I received a copy of this book through the Goodreads FirstReads program in exchange for an honest review.
Emily bravely and skillfully takes the reader through all of the facts of her case, how she felt, how she adapted, her quest to be able to face her rapist and have him punished. This is not an easy read - at times you feel your heartbreak - but it is a good one, and an important one.
I received a copy of this book through the Goodreads FirstReads program in exchange for an honest review.
June 18, 2016
Exceptional prose, honesty, and courage in sharing her innermost feelings and experiences make this memoir a riveting read.
I feel the need to mention that many of Ms. Winslow's experiences are far from the norm. As a long-time advocate for sexual assault survivors/victims - victims being this author's choice - I tend to assess memoirs in this arena for their applicability to other survivors. This is not a value judgment, but rather a question in my mind. "Will other SA survivors find this information relatable?" In this case, I think not. This in no way lessens my validation of Ms. Winslow's healing and quest for justice, my admiration of her self-awareness and bravery, and my respect for her writing.
I feel the need to mention that many of Ms. Winslow's experiences are far from the norm. As a long-time advocate for sexual assault survivors/victims - victims being this author's choice - I tend to assess memoirs in this arena for their applicability to other survivors. This is not a value judgment, but rather a question in my mind. "Will other SA survivors find this information relatable?" In this case, I think not. This in no way lessens my validation of Ms. Winslow's healing and quest for justice, my admiration of her self-awareness and bravery, and my respect for her writing.
September 13, 2016
It feels cold to be hating on this book, because it is about the aftermath of the author's violent sexual assault when she was a college student; twenty years later the police finally arrest the suspect. However, the books feels padded. There is a lot of print given over to how her acquaintances/friends reacted to this, etc. I didn't find it very interesting, but kept on trudging through in case the ending was interesting. Alas, it was not. Maybe this could have made a good short essay.
August 23, 2016
This book is very strange. As I was also a victim of an attack at the tender age of 19 I thought I would get something out of this story but the writing is very obscure and disjointed. The story seemed to center more around the author's accomplishments on and off stage and life, travel, acquiring possessions, moving to Europe. Sorry.
October 7, 2016
This kind of detailed perspective is extremely valuable.
Further illustrated that we need fundamental changes in how rapes are handled by our criminal justice system. New York has made large strides and the rest of the country needs to follow suit. We have a long way to go.
Further illustrated that we need fundamental changes in how rapes are handled by our criminal justice system. New York has made large strides and the rest of the country needs to follow suit. We have a long way to go.
December 1, 2018
This is a true non-fiction memoir by a fiction writer, Emily Winslow. Subtitled: My twenty-year search for truth and justice, her story involves her being raped as a college student in Pittsburgh in January, 1992. The attacker was not found and was not prosecuted.
Until -- twenty years later and with the advent and wider spread use of DNA, the rapist was located. While the statute of limitations would have ordinarily prevented his prosecution, new statutes had been enacted with the discovery of the evidentiary possibilities of DNA and allowed some exceptions. There had been another rape the same year in the same area in November. Hence, she was Jane Doe November, while the author was Jane Doe January.
This story, Winslow's journey from the rape to the prosecution, is factual - plus a lot of emotions.
What I liked most about her and her book was the way she described her husband as being so understanding and accommodating of her and her feelings. Never have I encountered a man who was even on one occasion like this, much less multiple times, as needed. I questioned whether it was because he was British, but I am really unsure.
The second most likeable aspect of her book to me were the legal points, legal process, and legal delays in justice. What surprised her, delays and postponements, to me was only the norm. In fact, I was surprised that there were less than I would have expected.
But those two points, I recognize, were probably unique to me. The book is a good one and raises many points that might easily jump out at others.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway.
Until -- twenty years later and with the advent and wider spread use of DNA, the rapist was located. While the statute of limitations would have ordinarily prevented his prosecution, new statutes had been enacted with the discovery of the evidentiary possibilities of DNA and allowed some exceptions. There had been another rape the same year in the same area in November. Hence, she was Jane Doe November, while the author was Jane Doe January.
This story, Winslow's journey from the rape to the prosecution, is factual - plus a lot of emotions.
What I liked most about her and her book was the way she described her husband as being so understanding and accommodating of her and her feelings. Never have I encountered a man who was even on one occasion like this, much less multiple times, as needed. I questioned whether it was because he was British, but I am really unsure.
The second most likeable aspect of her book to me were the legal points, legal process, and legal delays in justice. What surprised her, delays and postponements, to me was only the norm. In fact, I was surprised that there were less than I would have expected.
But those two points, I recognize, were probably unique to me. The book is a good one and raises many points that might easily jump out at others.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway.
March 5, 2018
If you are like me when you read these types of thriller, nonfiction, essentially real-life horror stories, then you silently and obviously come to admire the victim - the author in this case.
In this story, I have learned about strength, regardless of the series of unfortunate twists and turns she endured (which are a must read). I started to learn to admire my own story and series of unfortunate events, and not let them become me.
I did have some tiffs with her style of writing, which anyone may understand after reading a few chapters. However, the story is too significant to judge this book solely by that. It was a really empowering work of nonfiction.
In this story, I have learned about strength, regardless of the series of unfortunate twists and turns she endured (which are a must read). I started to learn to admire my own story and series of unfortunate events, and not let them become me.
I did have some tiffs with her style of writing, which anyone may understand after reading a few chapters. However, the story is too significant to judge this book solely by that. It was a really empowering work of nonfiction.
December 21, 2018
The author went through something absolutely terrible and I respect her strength. And yet, quite a few lines in this book absolutely stunned me—the author seems so incredibly self-absorbed and blind to her privilege that it was hard to believe. As only one example: when a young confidant unexpectedly dies in a car accident, she was upset that he hadn’t preemptively set up someone else to reach out to her to take care of her in the extremely unlikely event of his demise ...despite her being an adult with many resources and extensive social support system. There is also a lot of focus on swearing versus not swearing that struck me as odd.
January 10, 2018
I read this book right off the back of another true crime novel centred around rape, which maybe wasn't such a good idea. I found myself comparing the two as I read, and perhaps haven't fairly thought about 'Jane Doe January' in its own right.
Emily Winslow tackles such a personal topic in a very matter-of-fact, straightforward way. That's not to say that the book is without emotion, but rather that she gives a clearer account of events than I imagine most people could.
The ending was a surprise, unfortunately, and left me feeling unsatisfied - not as a reader, but for Emily herself. That being said, the way she deals with, and writes about such pain, is very impressive.
Emily Winslow tackles such a personal topic in a very matter-of-fact, straightforward way. That's not to say that the book is without emotion, but rather that she gives a clearer account of events than I imagine most people could.
The ending was a surprise, unfortunately, and left me feeling unsatisfied - not as a reader, but for Emily herself. That being said, the way she deals with, and writes about such pain, is very impressive.
March 12, 2017
I found myself reading this book at a remove, and to be honest, I'm not sure if that's my fault or the author's. While the memoir briefly sketches the details of the rape and its aftermath, it's mainly about her experiences twenty years later, trying to prep for the long-awaited trial of her rapist: going through the frustrating bureaucracy of the American legal system while living in England, trying to assess and connect with new detectives and lawyers attached to the case when both professions have rapid turnover, using the internet to piece together her attacker's life and personality, and keeping up with her regular life as a writer, mother, wife, and friend.
The thing is, I'm left uncertain why Winslow wrote the book, what I'm supposed to get out of it as a reader. She's the first to admit that her experience is atypical (privileged co-ed attacked by a stranger, immediately supported by genuinely helpful friends, teachers, and family) and that her reactions are atypical as well, so it's not about trying to get people to understand the experience of a rape survivor. She explicitly says she doesn't want to parade her emotions before the jury, or, seemingly, her readers (which is her right), so it's not about catharsis. And while she spends a chapter or two on her investigation of the rapist, she doesn't seem particularly focused on getting inside his head and figuring out what made him this way. It's entirely possible that my own feelings are clouding my judgement, but I think it's significant that the only part of the book I cared about was an unrelated sad episode in the middle.
The thing is, I'm left uncertain why Winslow wrote the book, what I'm supposed to get out of it as a reader. She's the first to admit that her experience is atypical (privileged co-ed attacked by a stranger, immediately supported by genuinely helpful friends, teachers, and family) and that her reactions are atypical as well, so it's not about trying to get people to understand the experience of a rape survivor. She explicitly says she doesn't want to parade her emotions before the jury, or, seemingly, her readers (which is her right), so it's not about catharsis. And while she spends a chapter or two on her investigation of the rapist, she doesn't seem particularly focused on getting inside his head and figuring out what made him this way. It's entirely possible that my own feelings are clouding my judgement, but I think it's significant that the only part of the book I cared about was an unrelated sad episode in the middle.
April 22, 2020
When attacked out of the blue your mind struggles in all kinds of ways. Mrs. Winslow gives us an example of this. She goes into great detail of all her thoughts and research about her attacker. It could seem odd to people who dont understand. I'd suggest just noting the behavior instead of judging the behavior.
March 21, 2018
A first-rate memoir, steeped in the experience of the moments depicted, peppered with insights into universal human experience. I’ll read this one again - and I may bump it to 5 stars eventually - it deserves the additional attention.
January 17, 2017
A frustrating book, but because of the subject matter, not because of the author or the writing. It's a strong book that makes you angry for the author.
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