Gritz blends memoir with true-crime detective work in this nonfiction book.

Dedicating the book to her sister, Andrea “Angie” Boggs (“the first person I remember loving”), the author explores a mystery-filled tragedy that has plagued her family for more than 40 years. The story begins with Angie’s final hours in 1982 prior to her gruesome murder and those of her husband, Raymond, her infant son, and her unborn baby. During a cold January, Angie and Raymond had invited a struggling unhoused couple into their San Francisco home, having experienced a life of hardship themselves. More than a month later, the remains of the family were discovered in a crawl space under their home. The vagrants who had stayed with them were subsequently arrested and convicted for their murders. Despite their convictions, Gritz, a college student at the time of Angie’s death, knew that key details were missing from the story of her sister’s life and death (“Did anyone ever learn their motive?”). Her secretive parents weren’t much help in providing answers, often casting Angie’s alleged behavioral problems as the driving narrative of her life. Following the death of her parents in 2002, the author delved into family records and microfilm research (she cites sources from her 10-year investigation at the end of the book) and discovered a history of abuse that her adopted sister had endured. The memoir’s revelations of family secrets make for an enthralling read, but the book’s true strength lies in the author’s heartfelt reflections on grief, survivor’s guilt, and trauma. Written in the form of a letter to Angie, this is a raw look at the beauty of sisterly love and the legacy of childhood neglect. Gritz’s often lyrical prose provides poignant reflections, which is no surprise given the author’s background as an award-winning poet and essayist. While previous iterations of some of the book’s material have been published in the New York Times, Salon, and elsewhere, this is a remarkably cohesive, genre-defying memoir that is at once a beautiful love letter and a haunting true-crime investigation.

A poignant, gripping story of love, memory, and physical and psychological brutality.

A grieving teen finds sanctuary in a home for “wayward” girls.

Set in 1970, this accessible work confronts the consequences of the Wayward Minor Act through poems that even reluctant readers will find riveting. Grieving the death of her father, Jane Flynn is out partying with friends on her fifteenth birthday when police officers show up, explaining that her mother has reported her missing. Bewildered Jane arrives at Spofford, “a maximum-security prison for children” in the Bronx, where she’s bullied and beaten by another girl. Her mom appears before the judge, trying to bring Jane home, but her original worries about keeping her daughter safe are used to justify continued incarceration. Jane is transported to the New York State Training School for Girls, where she meets the Racket, a group of girls who form a secret chosen family within the devastating system. Beatles fan Jane adopts the moniker Jude and develops feelings for the equally broken Jo-Jo. She also meets Miss Coleman, the first adult since her father’s death who listens to her. As Jane grows more comfortable with Miss Coleman, she risks exposing the Racket: With the Stonewall uprising a recent memory, can this adult be trusted? Gritz presents an excoriating critique of the systemic squashing of girls’ voices and the silencing of their desires and curiosity. Jane is cued white, and there’s diversity in race and sexuality in the supporting cast.

A thoughtful must-read that explores grueling attempts to destroy girls’ spirits.