Jeannine Atkins, acclaimed author of numerous biographical works for young readers including “Stone Mirrors: The Sculpture and Silence of Edmonia Lewis” and “Finding Wonders: Three Girls Who Changed Science,” ventures into deeply personal territory with “Knocking on Windows.” This memoir-in-verse chronicles her journey from trauma survivor to established writer, weaving together raw personal experience with literary homage in a format that feels both innovative and necessary.
The book’s title serves as a powerful metaphor that resonates throughout the narrative—windows as barriers between the inside and outside world, as mirrors reflecting back our deepest selves, and as transparent boundaries we must sometimes shatter to be truly seen and heard. Atkins employs this imagery masterfully, creating a work that functions simultaneously as personal testimony, literary criticism, and writing craft guide.
The Architecture of Memory
Divided into seven distinct sections—”Edges,” “Safety Pins and Shears,” “Turning and Turning,” “Telling,” “Paper Birds,” “Breaking Light,” and “Bee Colors”—the memoir follows a non-linear structure that mirrors how memory actually works. Atkins doesn’t present her story as a neat chronological progression but rather as a series of interconnected moments that spiral around central themes of voice, agency, and artistic awakening.
The opening section immediately establishes the book’s tone and approach. “Night darkens the window to mirror. My childhood bedroom looks unfamiliar,” Atkins writes, drawing readers into the disorienting aftermath of returning home after experiencing sexual assault during her freshman year of college. The verse format allows for compressed intensity while creating breathing room around difficult subject matter—a technique that serves both the author’s emotional needs and the reader’s ability to process heavy content.
What distinguishes this memoir from others in the trauma-survivor genre is Atkins’ sophisticated integration of literary analysis and personal narrative. Her conversations with Sylvia Plath, Maya Angelou, and Emily Dickinson aren’t mere name-dropping or surface-level inspiration-seeking. Instead, she engages with these writers’ works and biographical details in ways that illuminate both their experiences and her own, creating a kind of literary sisterhood that spans generations.
The Power of Literary Mentorship
The epistolary elements—letters addressed to deceased writers—form some of the book’s most compelling passages. When Atkins writes to Sylvia Plath, “Dear Sylvia: Thank you for speaking up about fire and grime. How did you dare show matches, crows, and bones? Did anger save or doom you?” she’s not simply seeking comfort but engaging in a complex dialogue about the relationship between personal pain and artistic creation.
These literary conversations serve multiple purposes within the narrative structure. They provide Atkins with models of women who transformed their struggles into art, they offer readers insight into how literature can function as both mirror and lamp, and they demonstrate the kind of critical thinking that eventually leads to Atkins’ success as a writer and teacher.
The treatment of Sylvia Plath deserves particular attention. Rather than romanticizing Plath’s suicide or presenting her solely as a cautionary tale, Atkins grapples with the complexity of Plath’s legacy, ultimately arriving at a nuanced understanding that honors both Plath’s artistic achievements and acknowledges the tragedy of her death. This mature approach to difficult literary figures models the kind of critical thinking Atkins brings to her own story.
The Classroom as Battleground
One of the memoir’s strongest sections deals with Atkins’ return to academic life and her encounters with institutional misogyny in creative writing programs. Her descriptions of workshop critiques where male students dismiss women’s experiences as “too confessional” or professors who question whether certain subjects are worthy of literary attention will resonate painfully with many female writers.
Atkins handles these experiences with both anger and analytical precision, showing how systemic dismissal of women’s voices operates in supposedly enlightened academic spaces. Her portrayal of Professor Berg, who tells her “you can be a writer” while warning “it could ruin your life,” captures the double-bind many women writers face—encouraged to pursue their art while simultaneously warned about its dangers.
The classroom scenes also highlight Atkins’ growing awareness of intersectionality, particularly in her discussions of Maya Angelou’s work and her reflections on her own privileged position as a white, educated woman. These moments add depth and prevent the memoir from becoming solipsistic.
Craft and Construction
The verse format proves particularly effective for handling the memoir’s most difficult material. Short, fragmented lines mirror the way trauma interrupts normal thought patterns, while longer, flowing passages capture moments of healing and growth. Atkins demonstrates considerable skill in varying her approach—sometimes employing traditional poetic techniques like metaphor and imagery, other times opting for prose-like paragraphs that provide necessary context and information.
The book’s structure allows for both chronological progression and thematic development. While we follow Atkins from college trauma through graduate school and eventual success as a writer, we also trace her evolving relationship with literature, her growing feminist consciousness, and her increasing ability to claim her own voice.
Areas for Critical Consideration
While “Knocking on Windows” succeeds on multiple levels, certain elements could benefit from deeper exploration. The treatment of secondary characters sometimes feels abbreviated—friends like Rachel and Deborah appear as significant figures but disappear without resolution. Given the memoir’s focus on female friendship and support, more sustained attention to these relationships might strengthen the overall narrative.
Additionally, while the literary interludes provide crucial context and inspiration, they occasionally overshadow Atkins’ own story. Some readers might prefer more balance between literary analysis and personal narrative, particularly in sections where the focus shifts heavily toward discussions of other writers’ lives and works.
The book’s ending, while hopeful, feels somewhat rushed. After detailed exploration of trauma and recovery, the resolution into marriage, motherhood, and professional success could benefit from more nuanced treatment of how these achievements relate to the earlier struggles.
A Vital Addition to Trauma Literature
Despite these minor critiques, “Knocking on Windows” makes significant contributions to several literary conversations. As a trauma memoir, it avoids both victimization and false empowerment, instead presenting a realistic portrait of survival and recovery that includes setbacks, complications, and ongoing challenges. As a writing memoir, it offers valuable insights into the development of literary voice and the role of reading in shaping writing identity.
The book’s treatment of sexual assault is particularly noteworthy for its refusal to sensationalize or minimize the experience while also refusing to let trauma define the narrator’s entire identity. Atkins shows how violation can coexist with agency, how victims can also be active agents in their own recovery and growth.
Recommended Reading for Similar Voices
Readers drawn to “Knocking on Windows” might appreciate other memoirs that combine personal narrative with literary analysis, such as Roxane Gay’s “Hunger,” Carmen Maria Machado’s “Her Body and Other Parties,” or Maggie Nelson’s “The Argonauts.” For those interested in trauma memoirs written in verse, consider “The Poetry of Healing” by various authors or “What My Body Remembers” by Agnes Borinsky.
Atkins’ previous biographical works for young readers, including “Hidden Powers: Lise Meitner’s Call to Science” and “Grasping Mysteries: Girls Who Loved Math,” demonstrate her long-standing commitment to amplifying women’s voices and achievements. “Knocking on Windows” represents both a natural evolution of these themes and a significant departure in terms of personal vulnerability and adult content.
Final Assessment
“Knocking on Windows” stands as a powerful testament to the transformative potential of both writing and reading. Atkins has crafted a memoir that honors the complexity of survival while celebrating the possibilities that emerge when we refuse to let trauma have the final word. The verse format enhances rather than obscures the narrative’s impact, creating space for both painful truths and hard-won insights.
This is essential reading for writers, teachers, trauma survivors, and anyone interested in the intersection of literature and life. Atkins has created something rare: a memoir that manages to be both deeply personal and broadly relevant, both unflinchingly honest and ultimately hopeful. In learning to knock on windows—to make herself seen and heard—she has created a work that opens doors for others.