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“I’ve made mistakes in my life, and I’ve had moments I’m not proud of. But I haven’t let those human flaws keep me from telling my story.”

The reading of Virginia Giuffre’s memoir is made more difficult by her death by suicide in April of this year. The reader knows that the book, which begins with candid descriptions of abuse and neglect, will not end with clear justice, retribution, or recovery. It is a tragedy.

“But please,” she insists, “don’t stop reading.”

Nobody’s Girl is challenging from cover to cover. There are moments in which the author acknowledges that descriptions of abuse are unrelenting, that another follows one account without so much as a breath to process the meaning of the words.

Giuffre guides her reader through the chaos, showing how an ordinary childhood, coloured by memories of watching The Simpsons and family dinners, can so rapidly descend into violation, homelessness, and despair. Behind the headlines, she reveals a human being trying to make sense of it all herself.

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