I’ve been checking my mailbox every day multiple times a day in anticipation of Anne Jackson’s newest book Permission to Speak Freely, a book about fear, confession, and grace.
I found it in the mailbox last Saturday, sat down with it tonight, and finished it in less than two hours.
It felt like a satisfying visit to her blog: interesting, provocative, warm, and vulnerable.
Anne’s own struggles have been deep and diverse, and I felt blessed to hear her speak of them with candor and confidence.
If you’re unfamiliar with Anne’s life, she’s become an outspoken advocate for women recovering from pornography addictions and for those fighting depression, living a life characterized by the honesty and openness she advocates in this book.
I wish Permission to Speak Freely had been a straightforward memoir. Far and away the strongest parts were the stories. I kept wanting more of a glimpse into her head, into her feelings. I had hoped to find that in the poems. Only “The Rescue” really satisfied my desire for something more concrete, specific, tangible.
I struggle to criticize this book because of the courage it must have taken to write. So I won’t say anything more. Okay, one thing more: It was too short.