Nine books with big secrets

Julia Cohen's latest book is Freak Lip (2026). She is the author of I Was Not Born (2014), a collection of lyric essays, which was translated into German and released by Literaturverlag Droschl. She’s also written two books of poetry, Collateral Light (2014) and Triggermoon Triggermoon (2011). Her nonfiction and poetry appear in issues of The Georgia Review, Southeast Review, The New England Review, Fugue, Heavy Feather Review, Boston Review, and BOMB.

Cohen has a BA from Wesleyan University, an MFA from The New School, and a PhD from the University of Denver. She’s an Associate Professor of English and Literature at Rocky Mountain College of Art & Design. She teaches creative writing, literature, and composition courses. Cohen lives in Colorado Springs with her husband and fellow writer, Noel Black, and their kids.

At Lit Hub she tagged "nine books that guided my understanding of how holding or exposing long-kept secrets creates a palpable tension between regret and relief." One title on the list:

Amy Long, Codependence

Amy Long’s Codependence broke my heart like a long-lost song popping on the radio as you speed down the highway that you find yourself suddenly crying and hoarsely shout-singing along to. In this memoir, Long’s secrets are woven into private patterns—obsessively counting pills, visiting different Duane Reade pharmacies—as she documents with dark humor her chronic pain and the opioid addiction attached to the only medication that makes living sustainable.

I grew up with an invisible chronic illness that was a challenge to explain to anyone my own age. I lost friends who didn’t understand that when I felt too tired to even take a shower and had to cancel plans, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to see them. Without a proper diagnosis, I lost months of my life every year to sleeping and fighting bacterial infections. Long exposes how secrecy builds up when even doctors don’t have the language to identify one’s pain. Long’s memoir spans three decades, deftly jumping into memories that track the development of her unrelenting headaches and the divide it creates in her family. How do you tell your mother you’ve gone back on opioids when she was there feeding you soup and ice cream five years ago during your last withdrawal? How do you tell your father, who thinks it’s the easy way out rather than the only viable choice to survive?

With neurologists unable to find a diagnosis, Codependence captures the unspoken, excruciating choices Long faces when confronting the loneliness in suffering and the cost of making art. Inextricable to Long’s art, though, is a self-awareness and acerbic wit that elevates the narrative and reminds us that humor is integral to survival, too.

Read about another entry on the list.

--Marshal Zeringue