What does it mean to belong? In a place? With a person? To a family? Where do our senses of security and survival lie? I Don't Belong Here ruthlessly investigates alienation during moments of transit and dislocation and their impact on women’s identity. These twenty essays—ranging from conventional to lyrical to experimental in form and structure—delve into the root causes of personal uncertainty and the aftershock effects of being a woman in an unsafe world. Provocative, authentic, intimate, and uncompromising, Melissa Grunow casts light on the unspeakable: sexuality, death, mental illness, trauma, estrangement, and disillusionment with precision and fortitude.
In our modern times, it’s more important than ever that we turn our eyes and ears to the women living among us—women who have been maligned and sidestepped for centuries and are now fighting back, struggling to demolish the hoary old patriarchy once and for all, and shine a light on what it’s like to live as a woman in 2018 and beyond. This is exactly why Melissa Grunow’s new collection of essays, I DON'T BELONG HERE, is such an essential book for this divisive era—the curtain has been drawn aside.
Grunow’s collection certainly isn’t for the faint of heart: there’s plenty of grit, sorrow, and a hefty dose of fierce determination—all aspects of being a female in modern America. I DON'T BELONG HERE doesn’t focus much on the present times, but rather explores the author’s past relationships and experiences in an effort to gain a better understanding of just who she is today, and how she and many like her got here. Her keen sense of self-determination is an awe-inspiring salve for many of the psychological burns women suffer through to this day, but it is her intensely confessional tone—her willingness to let it all lay bare, scars and all—that give this collection of personal essays a veritable punch to the amygdala.
From paranoia suffered abroad in faraway countries around strange men, to the lamentations of a failed marriage and relationships that led to heartache and pain, Grunow has given her readers a confident, yet unassuming set of confessionals that serve to help us understand the plight of many women. Though she has lived in many places across the country, her mind often returns to her childhood in Michigan—be it during overwhelming hot summers in New Mexico, or elsewhere. The Mitten State has clearly shaped much of Grunow’s psychological landscape, as well as her memories.
Above all, these essays, though dark and often filled with grief, are a testament to female resilience. Grunow is a gifted, thoughtful writer with an unfiltered tone that serves her readers what we desperately need: empathic understanding.
Intimate. Beautifully written. Honest. Melissa Grunrow's essays are written with such a personal finesse that at times it feels as though you've stumbled upon private writings. Her fearlessness is captivating and addicting.
Memoir is not something I read a lot of, although I’ve been trying to remedy that over the past few years with books such as Wild and The Glass Castle. I even took a course with Grunow a few months ago on writing creative nonfiction so I could sharpen my own skills. I was curious to see how her teaching style related to her own work, and I wasn’t disappointed with I Don't Belong Here: Essays.
First of all, I love the theme of the book; after all, who here doesn’t relate to feelings of isolation and not fitting in? I Don’t Belong Here is divided into four distinct sections: “Unspoken,” “Displaced,” “Suppressed” and “Misunderstood.”
She describes the death of a part of herself after a violent sexual assault by a boyfriend in the piece “Before and After.” The description of her experience is so painfully raw and honest that the reader wants to weep along with her. It is also a stark and unfortunate depiction of the way so many sexual assault victims are treated during the investigation process.
In “Fire and Water” Grunow dives into the differences between the destruction fire and floods can cause to a home, and an analysis of the impact each one leaves behind. “A flood is worse than a fire,” a co-worker tells her. “After a flood, you’ll worry whenever it rains.” She describes the damage a heavy rain and flood caused to her home in Michigan, and the effect of storms and tornados in her childhood years living in a mobile home park. Grunow reminisces about riding her bike with her childhood friends, picking up the metal skirting from mobile homes that was blown about, balancing the pieces on her handlebars and cutting her knees as she pedaled. Anything, everything, can cut something else, she remembers.
Grunow’s writing is rich, lyrical, and draws parallels that one would never even think of, making for a savory reading experience. She digs deep into her own psyche while exploring her decision to get multiple tattoos during her college years in "Marked":
I give workshops, presentations, trainings, all as a professional who appears professional. Underneath those layers, though, my skin sings a different song, a ballad of many verses comprised of love, pain, mistakes, imprinted memories..
Personally, I could especially relate to the piece titled “We’re All Mad Here: A Field Guide to Feigning Sanity,” where she writes about doctors, You will burn through doctors the way a middle school girl burns through crushes.
I highly recommend I Don’t Belong Here, whether you’re looking to dive deeper into the world of memoirs and creative nonfiction, or seeking ideas for how to expand your own writing. There is much to dissect here, and I promise you by the last page, you will be ready to take a good, hard look at your own imprinted memories and how they have shaped your world.
The personal essay tends to be one of the most intimate forms of writing when one actually writes with authenticity and truth. It is rare to find personal essays like the ones in this book by Melissa Grunow. Gutsy, honest, at times painful, and filled with moments of universal experience for readers, Grunow is fearless with her ability to lay life events out on the table with vulnerability and courage. As she does, there are spots where we see ourselves in her life experiences. We feel compassion and recognition with the humanity of this brave and determined woman. Additionally, the finesse with which Grunow writes these essays is an example of practiced and precise prose. Her skill as a writer is only second to her invincible spirit. The reader cheers for Grunow as they read her essays and in turn Grunow, through her writing, roots for her readers by sharing her life. This collection holds a unique spot in the creative nonfiction genre.
“Melissa Grunow's prose is a dazzling display of pathos, humor and everything in-between—like life itself. Landing somewhere between Sloane Crosley and Megan Stielstra—with a dash of David Sedaris—Grunow is a bold new voice for our time and to be savored by all. We can all see slivers of ourselves in varying degrees throughout these pages. For better and for worse.”
–R.J. Fox, author of Awaiting Identification, Love & Vodka: My Surreal Adventures in Ukraine, and Tales from the Dork Side
Award winning Melissa Grunow brings a collection of pieces about heartbreak and love, marriage and separation, trauma and courage together in a novel of true self-discovery. Highlighting portions of her life in chapter long essays, Grunow demonstrates the ultimate form of vulnerability- displaying her feelings in word form. A college professor and world traveler, Grunow’s tales lead the reader on a journey that is truly memorable. I Don’t Belong Here is a true depiction of how life leads us on voyages, both good and bad, that we never imagined we would be traveling.
Some books just speak to you. For me, I Don’t Belong Here was one of those books. Though my life experiences differ from Grunow’s, as I read her collection of essays I felt as if I was reading a page out of my own diary. Her lyrical vulnerability transports the reader to a place of complete and utter empathetic understanding. There was not one essay that I didn’t absolutely love- for it’s heartbreak, it’s devastation, it’s triumph, and it’s witty antics. Grunow has the ability to make herself totally relatable and her tales of abuse, teaching, and home improvement Even if memoirs and essays “aren’t your thing”, I would highly recommend reading this one, as it is a true collection of how powerful a woman truly is- especially in times of trial.
I just finished "I Don't Belong Here" and.... thank you to Melissa Grunow. Your brain understands my brain. I laughed and cried and "We're All Mad Here" made me nod in agreement the whole time. What a wonderful read!
Melissa Grunow's collection of essays is much more than that. It's an exploration into how we, as women, silence ourselves, crush ourselves into boxes, and dull our fire in order to please someone else or societal expectations or our own ideas of what the world's expectations are. In lyrical prose, Grunow takes us into the female embodied experience. She doesn't shy away from the "ick" or the dark. Neither does she give into it. She's fire and water, confused and enlightened, and ultimately, a compelling and compassionate companion on the page. By sharing her questions, her compromises, her moments of strength and moments of shadow, we as readers are given the gift of accessing our own, and hopefully finding a path toward greater wholeness. This is a book for the zeitgeist. It's a champion of the displaced, the lost, and the weary, and it rewards us with empowerment and a model for standing strong and stable in the lives we build.