Activist Jen Soriano brings to light the lingering impacts of transgenerational trauma and uses science, history, and family stories to flow toward transformation in this powerful collection that brings together the lyric storytelling, cultural exploration, and thoughtful analysis of The Argonauts, The Woman Warrior, What My Bones Know, and Minor Feelings.
The power of quiet can haunt us over generations, crystallizing in pain that Jen Soriano views as a form of embodied history. In this searing memoir in essays, Soriano, the daughter of a neurosurgeon, journeys to understand the origins of her chronic pain and mental health struggles. By the end, she finds both the source and the delta of what bodies impacted by trauma might need to thrive.
In 14 essays connected by theme and experience, Soriano traverses centuries and continents, weaving together memory and history, sociology and personal stories, neuroscience and public health, into a vivid tapestry of what it takes to transform trauma not just body by body, but through the body politic and ecosystems at large. Beginning with a shocking timeline juxtaposing Soriano’s medical history with the history of hysteria and witch hunts, Nervous navigates the human body—centering neurodiverse, disabled, and genderqueer bodies of color—within larger systems that have harmed and silenced Filipinos for generations.
Soriano’s wide-ranging essays contemplate the Spanish-American War that ushered in United States colonization in the Philippines; the healing power of an inherited legacy of music; a chosen family of activists from the Bay Area to the Philippines; and how the fluidity of our nervous systems can teach us how to shape a trauma-wise future. With Nervous, Soriano boldly invites us along on a watershed journey toward healing, understanding, and communion.
Jen Soriano was an avid reader before she became a writer. Raised on Ramona Quimby and Anne of Greene Gables, she was later introduced to Maxine Hong Kingston, James Baldwin, N. Scott Momaday, and James Joyce. Now Jen has a reading "to-do" list that is 34 pages long. Jen divides her time between social justice movement-building and writing essays and performance poetry at the intersections of race, gender, trauma, health, colonization, and power.
Melissa Febos has called Jen's work "luminous" and chose her essay "Unbroken Water" as winner of the 2019 Penelope C. Niven Prize. Aisha Sabatini-Sloan chose her essay "War-Fire" as winner of the 2019 Fugue Prose Prize, calling her work "vivid" and "cinematic". Jen is a 2019-2020 Hugo House Fellow and Jack Jones Yi Dae Up Fellow, and received her MFA from the Rainier Writing Workshop.
Her chapbook Making the Tongue Dry was a finalist in the Newfound, Cutbank and Gazing Grain Press chapbook competitions. Handbound limited editions of the book were published by the Platform Review Chapbook Series of Arts by the People in 2019 and 2020. Jen is currently at work on a memoir about historical trauma and the neuroscience of healing.
These raw and honest memoirs draw our attention to the worst and best within this world. The atrocities of war and the effect that this passes down through generations to this day is a never ending cycle. The fear, damage and distruction that this causes to individuals and the wider world is soul destroying. Through persecution what one does not understand or fears.
These memoirs however tell us of both sides. This writer takes us on her quest in trying to understand and adapt and also the hope! The strength that flows from this honest story of a life that had no choice but to inherit the hardships of war. Of a neglect of emotional attachment from parents. Of trying to cope with physical and emotional pains. The writter tells us of the worlds way but also admits her own. Times when she has struggled to cope and admits her feelings and actions. Good and bad. Fails and wins.
This book has opened my eyes to how much one individual can suffer but also how one can conquer! How through all her work and with the help of others changes can be made for a better wold for new generations. How love and hope can be found. How the cycle can be broken and how we all have a chance to life free.
Many thanks to Edelweiss+ , HarperCollins and the Author for a ARC. Review originally written 03/2023 Pub date 22/8/23
I was already a fan of Jen Soriano well before an advanced copy of "Nervous" landed in my hands. Her essays in literary magazines have sparked my imagination and inspired me for years. But I had no idea how much "Nervous" would mean to me as a reader.
It's a pleasure to see some of Soriano's exceptional essays take new form in this book. The first time I read their/her words in "A Brief History of Her Pain," I was on public transit and had one of those moments of epiphany that what I was holding in my hands was EXCEPTIONAL. I love seeing how the author remixed this essay and another favorite of mine, "War-Fire," in insightful ways in "Nervous."
What I was not prepared for was the artful crescendo that Soriano builds as this book progresses. I think my favorite essay in this book is "Awaken the Lyrics," a piece so beautiful and moving that I felt like it held me by the shoulders and shook me with a sense of amazement. Any reader is going to pick up that Soriano is not only a gifted writer, but also has an ear finely attuned to music, and this essay brings to life a scene and a community that I don't know at all and makes it feel real, intimate and special. I feel like that essay will make an artist's heart sing, no matter the medium they practice in.
As the book builds toward its conclusion, there are still more moments of surprise, beauty and visceral honesty. I have never read such a full description of the emotional roller-coaster that is pregnancy and child birth, and the world needs more writing like Soriano's. I think this section in particular is going to make a lot of birthing parents, especially those who have C-PTSD, feel seen.
Healing is hard work, and I believe it's a never-ending journey, but one that a person commits themself to every damn day. I feel like Soriano captured that process in stunning detail in "Nervous," and I'm so excited for readers to find it. It's amazing.
I couldn’t put Nervous down. Jen Soriano allowed us into her heart. Her insight into her self-discovery, family history, CPTSD, Filipino history, impact of colonization and intergenerational trauma is something everyone in our world needs to read and understand. Her healing path through writing, song, collective activism, and parenthood was uplifting. Being a trauma-wise human in this world is essential for decolonizing our minds shaping our future. Highly recommend this book as it’s life changing. Thank you, Jen.
It took me a long time to read this book. It is very intense. Soriano gives us a window into her pain and pulls no punches about how complex PTSD and trauma has impacted her life. But learning more about trauma and anxiety work, particularly relating to generational trauma, is a subject that interests me greatly, and it was worth it to dive into this book and stick with it to the end. The library’s license was about to expire for good — I couldn’t renew it any longer — and I just couldn’t let it go. It jumps around a lot, and you definitely need to be in the right frame of mind to read it lest it send you spiraling, but I urge you to keep going. Some of the most important revelations are near the end, and you won’t want to miss them once you’ve made it through the hardest part.
There is nothing that makes me feel more connected to humanity than witnessing personal accounts put forth with so much rawness and vulnerability that light shines through like life itself. I am in absolute awe of this book and its author. She was able to render a beautiful and honest portrayal of a family afflicted by intergenerational trauma, while at the same time giving us an amazing description of struggles and resilience that we can all identify with. This memoir is well researched and beautifully written. A story of pain and transcendence that does not leave you unchanged.
Jen Soriano writes an excellent memoir in essays that interconnects personal history, health, the natural environment, and the history the Philippines. Soriano studied the history of science at Harvard, so it may come as no surprise that she begins her book with a detailed chronology of the history of medicine and its approaches to the nervous system. Starting with the Kahun Papyrus medical documents from 1900 B.C. which were written by women and focused on women's health, continuing on to Santiago Ramon y Cajal who compared the nervous system to a system of waterways, and including the year 1980 when the American Psychological Association finally stopped using the term hysteria and replaced it with stress disorder, Soriano pinpoints important developments in research on the nervous system, especially as it applies to women.
Why this emphasis? Jen Soriano describes herself as someone who has always been nervous. For more than a decade, she had a series of diagnoses connected to her nervous system. Not only did she suffer from nervous disorders, but she was also in chronic pain. Because she had violent dreams about her grandparents for three decades, she came to the conclusion that the war experiences of her forebears -- her grandfather was tortured as a prisoner of war and her grandmother's home was enemy occupied -- lived on inside her.
Soriano was born in the U.S., but her book demystifies the concept of Filipinos as simply agricultural and then healthcare migrants to America. She delineates the three hundred and fifty years of Spanish colonialism, the 1896 revolt by Filipinos against Spain, the Spanish-American War of 1898, and the sale of Filipino territory by Spain to the U.S. for $20 million dollars. During World War II, Filipino citizens became victims of horrendous war crimes during the Japanese occupation. Soriano describes how the people of the Philippines resisted decade after decade and century after century.
While the writer concluded that she had inherited within her own body the violent history of her progenitors, her parents, who were both medical professionals, dismissed her rationalizations and complaints. Thus, it was left to Soriano to seek out healing experiences with other specialists and to engage in the healing process by way of social activism. One of her pivotal experiences was joining activists to resist the damning of the Chico River in the Philippines. The Chico River is the country's largest river, and it has sustained the farming, trading, and daily life of the indigenous people who live nearby and farther afield. For more than five decades, activists have resisted plans for the construction of hydropower dams on the river system.
Soriano's activism and her memoir in essays titled Nervous highlight the manner in which the plundering of natural resources is a continuation of colonialism, exploitation, and trauma. To move beyond trauma, we have to take care of the waterways in our nervous systems and the waterways in our natural environment.
This was such a stunning and unexpected read. Soriano delivers a heartfelt, well-researched collection of interconnected essays about the impact of generational trauma, colonization, and living with chronic pain. From the first piece in the book, "A Brief History of Her Pain" Soriano cements her relationship with the personal and historical, a theme she carries through each unique essay.
I also loved Jen's essays on motherhood and the attention and sheer honestly paid depicting their pregnancy. For any mother that feels unconventional or perhaps not like the "model mother" stereotype, there are so many opportunities to feel deeply seen, even within the sharp specificity.
Lastly, the choice to tie the book together with cultural celebration and an understanding that what is must not always be feels quite fitting. Something as simple as a river cleanup can hold restorative power for a country and people. As Soriano so aptly alludes, we are made of mostly water, and investing in clean waterways feels like an investment in the self.
Overall, I would deeply recommend this book to anyone and everyone.
This book has changed my life. If you’ve ever asked yourself, why am I like this? at some point in your life you need to read this book. I wish I could give this book to every woman I know so that they too can finally understand that maybe they aren’t the problem or crazy or sensitive. I’m so excited to take everything I’ve learned from this book as I work to find my own trauma-wise world.
Full transparency is I worked on this book and am absolutely in awe of the complexity and craft Jen Soriano brought to every essay and the overall organization.
This book is a gripping account of Soriano's experiences with debilitating chronic pain and her journey to understand it as a legacy of generational traumas. I was especially taken with her unflinching depiction of new motherhood, its demands and rewards, and how she weaves her story with histories of colonization and resistance in the Philippines.
DNF page 91. Was hoping this would be a really helpful and relatable book. Instead it’s a recounting of someone else’s trauma in the most boring possible way.
I’ve never wanted to hug a stranger so badly in my life till I read this book. I’ve dedicated a moment of silence for each paragraph as I read this due to the fact that I could feel the authors pain. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who is willing to learn about Filipino history and psychology in general. What a great read to end 2023!
First, thank you to my writer friend Natalia Conte for recommending this. In January when I talked to her, I was at an incredible low, consumed by chronic pain and unresolved trauma. Natalia immediately recommended Nervous, which she had taught with in a course last year, seeing parallels that have astonished me as well. In so many ways, these essays saved me, altered me. I cried, I laughed, I ached, I became angry and hopeful, grieving but healing.
Nervous helped serve as a guide for me, helping me to understand and navigate the place where I am now. Beyond that, it is an INCREDIBLE series of essays; Jen Soriano lays out her pieces in such an artful but connected way, somehow both cohesive and unpredictable in the best way. I learned so much through her perspective, from colonization and coming to terms with the brutality of history to how humans treat each other and the environment to navigating the web that is having a chronic illness while facing trauma.
I have never seen myself so reflected in a book, have never felt so validated by a one-way channel. This book gave me the permission I never knew I needed, permission to be who I am, permission to find my own path to health and happiness, permission to examine issues I’ve been avoiding addressing for my entire life.
Thank you Jen Soriano for the journey I never knew I was searching for.
I read Nervous in just a few sittings and WOW. I have never read a book that has given me more insight into my own family. My mom also just read it, and we haven't been able to stop talking about it. There are so many parallels between the author’s story and my mom's: my grandfather attended med school at the University of the Philippines before coming to the States for residency; my grandparents sent my mom and uncle to prestigious east coast boarding schools and universities; my mom ended up moving to the West Coast and raising an only child (me) in Seattle. Her descriptions of her parents also remind me so much of my grandparents. All of that to say: Nervous is helping both me and my mom understand our family's story and intergenerational trauma, and we're both very grateful to have this book in our lives. We rarely, if ever, learn the history of US imperialism and war in the Philippines, and Nervous emerges during this moment as an important memoir that helps us understand not just our history, but also the mental/emotional impacts of generational violence and the ways that we might use art, community, and activism to heal from it. Thank you Jen Soriano for sharing your story with me, and the world, in Nervous. This book is a gift.
A version of this review was posted on samahanfilipino.com
There are trillions of nerves within the human body. These nerves can be damaged through an autoimmune disease, diabetes, infectious disease, and countless other ways. But what of the history we carry within us, the stories of our ancestors we carry within our bodies that can affect us in multiple ways from intergenerational trauma, a genetic predisposition to sickness, or even how our nervous system — responsible for detecting and responding to external stimuli, deeming the stimuli as either safe or dangerous — experiences the world around us? Jen Soriano's memoir "Nervous" explores the relationship between intergenerational trauma, the trauma we experience from the moment we are born to our current existence, and how we experience the world.
Jen Soriano (she/they) is a femme non-binary writer and activist. Their collection of essays, "Nervous," details their experience and journey to heal her physical pains and the pain that’s made a place within her genes. In "Nervous," she takes you on a journey through the earliest memories of her life and her travels while weaving in the Philippines’ history of colonization and her maternal lineage’s experiences during World War II and the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. She masterfully juxtaposes each of these elements, often switching between lyrical prose and an objective narrative of science and history. Their prose pulls at your heart while their narrative engages with your understanding and knowledge of colonial history and the importance of decolonization.
Soriano states early on: "This is a story I’m not supposed to tell. I’m supposed to continue a lineage of silence–be wordless in pain, resilient and productive, a walking American dream. But my body speaks in a language of grief and suffering and with words of longing, liberation, and love."
It's a sentiment that a lot of us are familiar with, the idea of saving face by sweeping the problem under the rug, the grin-and-bear-it mentality. Especially when Filipinxs are described as having a spirit so water-proof that even super typhoons can’t wipe the smiles off their resilient faces. But for this resilience to exist, it requires, as Soriano stated, "longing, liberation, and love. "
"Nervous" embodies those three words. A longing for relief from pain; for an answer as to why one’s body reacts to otherwise safe-seeming situations the way that it does; for sovereignty over one’s body and the land of Indigenous people; and for the emotional support of one’s caregivers. Sentiments of liberation from the colonial mentality that continues to take hold of many; from genes that have been so affected repeatedly by trauma that one can emerge from the womb already struggling with CPTSD; and from systems of oppression that continue to gaslight folks of color. And love; Soriano writes so much about love.
Love for oneself, love for those closest to us, love for community, love for liberation, and a love which is both fierce and gentle for those who came before her who may not have understood how the traumas they experienced and the traumas of their ancestors may not have allowed them to love others as fiercely and fully as they could have. Soriano addresses this with the paragraph: "When one generation is simply preoccupied with survival, the trauma response continues, and often worsens, in future generations, until trauma can begin to be processed. Only when we face this historical trauma response—which can range from grief and illness to depression and addiction—can healing begin both for the individual and for the generations that come before and beyond."
Soriano’s "Nervous" is a worthwhile and necessary read. As a reader, you end up wanting to cheer her on, hoping and praying for them to find relief from their bodily pains and ailments. Women or femmes in particular feel Soriano’s frustration as constantly being told that your pain is unimportant. I heed every future or potential reader with caution, especially other Filipinxs or anyone whose history includes the violence of colonization to give yourself breaks as you read Nervous. As much as I didn’t want to put the book down, the details Soriano provides are full of hard and violent truths that can bring on a visceral reaction within one’s body. As a fellow Filipinx American, reading the details Soriano includes in the essays "War-Fire" and "381 Years" brought on stomach aches and malaise. I felt Soriano’s mixture of emotions in "War-Fire" and I felt both anger and joy in "381 Years." Anger from the devastation and violence placed upon our people and ancestors. Joy from the ways our very same people and ancestors fought back, their resilience for freedom, and how even today, we find ways to continue on and to thrive.
We are all experiencing this life for the very first time. For those like Soriano, we feel as if we’ve been swimming against currents as we try to navigate the world around us with a little less fear and anxiety unlike how our nervous systems have been wired. So be gentle, not only with those around you but with yourself as well. Because in that gentleness comes a quietness that will allow us to hear the belly laughs of our ancestors whose joy we have inherited. And in their joy and through healing — as "Nervous" teaches us — we are capable of thriving.
This is a book I've been waiting for and didn't even know it.
I want to start by saying that Jen Soriano kicks ass as a writer. I saw her on a panel more than a year ago and seeing her speak made me so eager to read her book, and I am not disappointed.
This is a meditation, a chronology, a memoir of chronic illness, and a study of family trauma, healing, and history. This book contains multitudes and it is all fascinating. The impetus for the book is Jen Soriano's experience of 5h3 chronic pain which has not only shaped her life but inspired her curiosity. With a surgeon for a father, her curiosity runs deep and rigorous. and Soriano applies it to the science of pain, the composition of the nervous system, and the mysteries of genetics, as well as the question of how we inherit what we inherit from our broken families.
If that sounds like a lot, it is. But I cannot put this book down. Even before I read this book, I already wanted to know more about everything that Jen Soriano writes about and I am so grateful that she has had the spirit, skill, and talent to teach me. I also come from a severely traumatized family (war and colonization) and though the happenings in my family will likely remain a mystery forever -- reading about someone else's family history is healing if only for the validation that, yes, it seems as if these things do get passed down until they stop being passed down. And that validation means everything.
Lastly, before I picked up Nervous, I knew nothing about the history of the Philippines. Learning so much history from such a personal point of view has been a tremendous gift. Learning about the Philippines means learning about colonialism, war, Japan, Spain, and the US. It has been a global football for centuries and the people of the Philippines have paid, and continue to pay a steep price.
This is a book for which I have genuine and deep GRATITUDE; it is necessary, fascinating, powerful. I recommend it so highly for anyone who has dealt with the mystery of pain and the possibility that the pains which they suffer did not start with them.
I’m less nervous after reading this book. It was a journey starting with discomfort to a sense of peace.
At the beginning, I wasn’t connecting with this. My own ingrained beliefs of “toughing it out” were at war with the author’s enlightened thoughts. From my own experience, I knew pain as complex with physical and mental aspects and now what I have learned from this book is that there are also spiritual and societal impacts informing pain. I only know what I know and to this author’s credit, I know more and this has helped me see other lenses of how we can see and experience pain.
Life can be a series of episodes of how we deal with pain. This book felt partly like journal entries and sometimes like textbook. That was tough for me as a reader to reconcile that back and forth writing. At times, I felt like there were stretches and reaches and I would prefer to see these funneled into concrete theories with the book tackling a theory or a few theories at a time. For me, I was a bit overwhelmed by the multiple assumptions. It has been an adjustment for me reading this hybrid science and personal book. I see this author has a book of poems which her fluid writing really lends itself well to.
This book was a lot to unpack with a lot of good snippets of information. The writing definitely hit a nerve in me and has challenged me reverberating in my mind and body.
This is a hard book to recommend, even though I'm very glad I read it. Jen Soriano has a story worth telling and some really amazing ideas about health and trauma and social connections. But this was a tough read. It took me months to get through it, mostly because I had to put it down so frequently after a sudden, unexpected plunge into a story about a friend's death or SI or war crimes that spared no details. For the same reason, I haven't shared with the friends who I think would most benefit from her ideas--it's too raw.
This is not a book of essays on heritage and healing, as the title claims. It's not a book about the science of chronic pain or other nervous system conditions (or the limits of that science), as the first chapter suggests. And frankly, it's not well edited. Plenty of other memoirs address traumatic experiences without scarring their readers.
It is, however, a poignant and inspiring memoir of how a child scared into respectful silence found her voice, how the daughter of a neurosurgeon who couldn't help her came to understand her chronic pain, and how a Filipino-American woman found her place in her family and her community.
I bought #nervous because of this sentence in the introduction: “My hands smoulder and my wrists feel riddled with broken glass. On any given day, my nerves are either drowned or lit on fire.” (p.1) That is the best description I’ve read of how my hands have felt this year, and I bought it with hopes of fellowship and companionship.
This is a beautifully written book structured around five sections: neurogenesis, neural pruning, neuro regulation, neuroplasticity and neuromimicry. Through these chapters the author delves into her experiences of trauma, her Filipino family, the colonial history of the Philippines, the trans generational experiences of trauma that have shaped her family. It is history, (I didn’t realize until now how little I knew about the history of colonization in the Philippines and its relationship with the US!) it is a love letter to somatics and healing, it is research, it is personal memoir about how these ideas have lived within the author’s life. I found it a beautiful difficult read ( I caught myself more than once looking for “solutions” to apply to my own chronic pain) but once I settled into the book I found it a smoother read.
Just finished this beautiful book and I know I'll be revisiting it soon. In their memoir, it feels like Jen Soriano is twisting a kaleidoscope as they examine their memories and the stories of their family and their heritage. Neuroscience, history, organizing, relationships, politics, mythology, and metaphors are the mirrors and shapes inside that kaleidoscope, allowing Soriano to show us new and beautiful patterns. I loved how the structure of each chapter was a little bit different, mirroring the stories within. The non-linear nature of the book echoes Soriano's reflections on the non-linear nature of heritage and healing. If I had to describe the book in one word, it would be "intricate."
I recommend this book to anyone who wants to be more in touch with their humanity and their sense of hope. I'll close with a quote from the final chapter, in which Soriano reflects on the connections between a polluted river and intergenerational trauma: "I...remember that when it comes to carrying trauma, it's not that we are polluted but that we bear burdens from environments past and present, burdens that are sometimes so thick, they can keep us from reflecting the sky."
NERVOUS transformed how I see my life and my body, and also how I see the reverberations of trauma and history across generations. This powerful memoir made me understand just how deeply history inhabits our bodies, how our ancestors' experiences are being relived constantly as we go about our daily lives. After long suffering from chronic pain, Soriano refused to accept the answers she got from doctors and instead embarked on her own journey across nations and centuries to piece together the story her body was trying to tell her. Not only is this book a guide to sorting through your own transgenerational trauma, it is also so beautifully written--a true work of literary memoir. Every chapter goes on a new quest to reckon with medical, colonial, scientific, and personal histories and to explore remedies while at the same time seeking new innovative form to hold the story of so many narratives intertwining. Highly recommended! You won't be the same after reading NERVOUS.
Being a first-generation Fil-Am, and encountering a book by a Fil-Am author for the first time, this really resonated with me. I relate a lot to Jen's experiences, especially growing up in a Fil-Am household. What I particularly enjoyed was how Jen related our upbringing, our trauma, our nervous systems to that of our environment. Now I know that that's something that we hear so much, but how she relates it to each of her visits to the Philippines, the "homeland", are powerful. Jen's particular recollections of the Pasig and Chico rivers, and the communities that reside by their waters, are a powerful testament to how our lives, just like the natural environments around us, are widely affected by those around us.
I can't rec this book enough. Especially to my Filipinx siblings, read this!
***Thanks to NetGalley for this ARC in exchange for my honest review***
Much like What My Bones Know my Stephanie Foo, this book provided a deep exploration of the author's experience of complex trauma and its effects on her body. But rather than using her experience as the starting point, Jen Soriano moves up her family line to further investigate the intergenerational aspects of trauma and how our histories are coded into our bodies and psyches. She names war, colonization, and so many other historical events in both the larger and personal spheres to illustrate a map of her contexts. This sort of rich study is the kind I would love to open up more space to so that people could seek healing in community as well as individually.
I loved the first two sections comprising the first half of the book. Recounting her own history of lifelong chronic and debilitating pain, Soriano explains how our nervous systems respond to direct and intergenerational trauma and explores how her own ancestral lineage and relationship to colonization in the Philippines has informed her body and left a legacy of inherited trauma. I lost interest in the Lyrics chapter detailing her years of community activism with her band. (Sorry, but I am not interested in your creative process of songwriting.) Her final chapters on birth and motherhood were somewhat interesting to me, but the first half really stood out as exceptional.
Nervous is a collection of thematically tied essays dealing with the writer’s physical health and their family’s emotional health as viewed through the lens of trans-generational trauma affecting Filipinos. I learned so much about The Philippines. I had no clue how tragically affected the islands were during both World Wars. Jen Soriano is very aware that most readers would also be approaching this book without the historical context that makes their own personal narrative a much deeper, richer story. It never feels heavy handed or textbook-like.
This book is a work of art, and it needs to be required reading in mental health curriculums, history classes, trainings for doctors, healers, therapists, etc. The way Jen writes is so powerful and soulful, connecting individual & collective stories across time and space. I felt this book resonating with my heart, mind, and body, and could hardly put it down — only taking pauses to allow myself to digest and process the immense experiences that she was describing. I am so grateful to be touched by this book.
I was very much looking forward to reading Jen Soriano's essays as she delves into topics many first generation Filipinos like myself can relate to. She makes a connection between her experience with chronic pain and generational trauma. There were so many interesting links she made going all the way back through the Philippines' history. While I was hoping to draw more personal conclusions through my reading of this book, I did find myself possessing different beliefs and perspectives from the author. However I truly appreciate Soriano's bravery and vulnerability in writing these essays 🙏
This book resonated with me on so many levels – as a Pinay, a mom, a daughter of immigrant parents, and as a child of the San Francisco Bay Area. Reading Nervous was as heartbreaking as it was hopeful and healing. There is so much to unpack! I just finished it a few minutes ago, and I’m ready to reread it. Jen Soriano masterfully wove scientific data and historical research into her intense personal narrative. What a gift to our generation, because generational trauma is no joke! I thank her for her vulnerability in sharing her journey in such a poetic way.
Excellent book! I’ll leave this excerpt here in lieu of my own words since I am still processing all the amazing writing and storytelling offered by the author.
“We are facing a watershed moment where healing from trauma is a generational call. How will we answer it? Will we reproduce old patterns of divide-and-conquer, especially in the face of rising tides of mental health crises and climate change? Or will we re-member and reenvision our interdependence and flow toward collective transformation? The answers, and new questions, are up to us.”
Jeez, I thought this book was incredible. The combination of science and spirit when discussing trauma, harm and healing resonated with me. I am glad to learn so much of Filipino culture through the lens of someone who is understanding their familial history. It brought me hope. I'd like to believe that the frayed wires in my brain are still capable of connection despite the inner demons. Through several strategies, it just might be possible.