In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Stephanie Weaver’s Bitter, Sweet is a moving and engaging memoir of trauma, resilience, and healing.
Cassandra Lane wrote of the book:
“One of life’s most Herculean tasks is learning how to forgive. Some of us go to our graves without even trying. Others are thrown down again by the Sisyphean nature of the act, but in Stephanie Weaver’s Bitter, Sweet, she invites us to climb and slide against the rough terrain of her journey toward forgiving her parents. With the love and precision of a great cook and baker, Weaver crafts a stunning narrative that challenges our expectation that forgiveness happens as swiftly as a microwaved meal and our romanticized ideals of a fairytale ending with the loved ones who hurt us the most. This is gorgeous, sensuous writing that centers the making of food as a powerful source of connection and healing”
In her own words, here is Stephanie Weaver’s Book Notes music playlist for her memoir Bitter, Sweet:
Music has a way of zapping us back to significant events in our past. As a memoirist excavating my life, I needed a solid pier to anchor the boat. To write incisively about events that happened forty to fifty years ago, finding music to evoke those times was key. My twenty-nine-song playlist follows the book timeline.
“Let the Day Begin,” The Call
This album was the soundtrack for my Circle-the-Pacific trip in 1990. When I landed in Hong Kong, I bought a fancy Sony Walkman and listened to my handful of cassettes constantly. When the opening notes of this song ring out, I am instantly back climbing the steps at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia and marveling at my scrappiness to make the solo two-month trip a reality. Little did I know that the bottom would fall out of my life shortly after arriving home from this trip, which is where Bitter, Sweet kicks off.
“Don’t Give Up,” Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush
After an innocuous comment from my father sets events in motion, I’m trying to piece together what happened to me and how it impacts my family. In my early thirties I drive across country to visit my older sister to tell her my secret: I’ve gotten memories back indicating that our father molested me as a child. Shocked by my sister’s response to my revelation, I return to Chicago reeling. Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush’s haunting harmonies pierced my soul: “You’re not the only one.”
“Baby Driver,” Simon and Garfunkel
Road trips recur in Bitter, Sweet, including thousands of miles traversed as a child in my parents’ 1969 Cadillac hearse-camper. Heading home, I remember lounging in the back while orange floral pom-pom-trimmed curtains swayed to the Beach Boys-inspired notes of “Baby Driver.” I sang along, too young to understand the sexual innuendo and losing part of the lyrics every time it abruptly ker-chunked at the end of that 8-track section. This hearse-camper and the mechanic who fixed it play a significant role reconnecting me with my family toward the end of the book.
“Losing My Religion,” REM
Finding out I was an incest survivor changed everything about my life, including my faith. The book takes a brief jump back into my early twenties when I turned to a dynamic interdenominational church on Chicago’s Gold Coast to find my chosen family, define my social life, and give me a reason for being. But as therapy went on and my depression deepened, a crisis of faith perfectly captured by Michael Stipe’s mournful vocal meant I left church for good.
“Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” Paula Cole
Younger readers will never know the pleasure of receiving a mixtape from a friend, complete with a hand-written playlist and decorative doodles. It was a way to tell a story, create a sound poem, declare your love. By this point in the story, I have garnered the courage to leave my alcoholic boyfriend and move to San Diego. My friend MK showed up at my sendoff breakfast with a special mix for the trip tucked inside a bag of tasty snacks. MK had left her own problematic boyfriend not long before, so her song choices were immaculate, including this banger by Paula Cole and “Let Him Fly” by Patti Griffin. While I don’t recommend crying and driving simultaneously, things would be looking up soon.
“Bamboléo,” The Gipsy Kings
This bright song signals the tonal shift in the final third of the book, as I start a new job at the San Diego Zoo, meet the man who becomes my husband, and take on the completion of my healing process. I make new friends in San Diego, exploring the region with all the zest of a religious convert. Not long after I arrived, I saw The Gipsy Kings with a friend at Hospitality Point, rocked along with The Rolling Stones and Santana with my new boyfriend, and danced to Etta James’ “At Last” on a patio overlooking San Diego Bay. Half my estranged family wasn’t invited to the wedding, but life was as good as I could manage.
“Unwell,” Matchbox Twenty
Shortly after my 1999 wedding I came down with a mystery illness. Reams of tests ruled out known causes, so doctors decided I had chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia in addition to a spinal fracture. Resting at home on medical leave was exceedingly difficult for a former Energizer Bunny who defined my worth by tasks accomplished. This enforced quiet made me face how I chased my self-esteem through an endless to-do list, spurring a decision that sets up the finale of the book.
“Bring Me to Life,” Evanescence
Choosing forgiveness was a radical act, as my parents refused to acknowledge my pain, apologize, or take any responsibility for the years of sexual abuse in my childhood. It wasn’t an overnight fix for my chronic fatigue, but I realized that forgiveness was the only modality I hadn’t tried. The pulsing beat and deep longing in Amy Lee’s vocals spoke to my heart during this time, and it’s only now I know that she and I were dealing with the same issues: scary illness and depression.
“Take Me to Church,” Hosier
Hozier’s anthem critiquing organized religion is my spiritual counterpoint to “Losing My Religion.” My parents were devout Lutherans and my father a church deacon, yet they were never able to admit their failings or ask for my forgiveness. In the final chapters of the book, I come to accept the reality and limitations of my family, centered in my spirituality without church.
“Whatever It Takes,” Imagine Dragons
By the end of Bitter, Sweet I will have been broken down and built up: confronted my family, buried my parents, and realized that estrangement cannot be fixed but it needn’t define me. This pop-rock ballad from Imagine Dragons is the perfect close to my playlist.
Stephanie Weaver, MPH, is a lifelong educator and the author of five books. She blends her personal experiences living with chronic illness and childhood sexual abuse with her master’s degree in public health to help others heal. Her last two books– The Migraine Relief Plan and The Migraine Relief Plan Cookbook– provided guidance and recipes for people living with migraine disease and were well-received by the migraine community. She lives in Oceanside, California with her husband and their Golden retriever Daisy May.