Unlike other memoirs of deconstructing or leaving one's faith, "Devout" offers a compromise. In clear, well-written prose, Gazmarian shares her version of coming to terms with evangelical faith through finding ways to accept what she can from it. Her vulnerability shines through, which makes her story that much more compelling. Highly recommended for readers who are questioning and/or working to unlearn parts of their childhood faith. Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC.

My review for this work will be coming out sometime in early March in Today's American Catholic. I thought the work was well-paced, succinct, and extremely readable.

For Gazmarian, her evangelical Christianity was the center of her upbringing. As a child (and even in to her adult years) however, she struggled with doubt. Not a doubt in faith itself but a doubt that her faith wasn’t everything that it should be. As a freshman in college, determined to be a good Christian, she got herself re-baptized hoping to erase any doubts that lingered. When she then became forgetful, depressed, and suicidal, more doubts began to pop up and she struggled with how to cope within the scope of her faith—where suicidal ideation was viewed as a one way ticket to hell and the work of the devil. With no other options, she visits a doctor who gives her a shiny new diagnosis of bipolar disorder.

Gazmarian takes readers along for the ride as she navigates her new diagnosis and what it means in terms of her faith—ultimately unlearning many things that were ingrained in to her. She writes with humble honesty using sharp, clear prose.

This book is a testament of courage and resiliency. I believe that a good book is a book that can make you feel something and is an added bonus if it challenges your beliefs or makes you look at something in a different light. This memoir did both of those things for me and I loved it.

Gazmarian joins the host of ex-fundamentalist Christian memoirs with her book Devout, but with the twist that she manages to keep her faith and find healing by staying in Christianity. The strongest parts of this were her discussions of her writing growth journey in tandem with her mental health discoveries and setbacks. Loved seeing a community rally around a struggling member rather than isolating them further.

An incredibly detailed look at faith and bi-polar disorder and how they intersect in the author’s life. She grew up in an evangelical community where often mental health issues were seen as an absence of faith, and then she is diagnosed as bipolar. She takes us through ups and downs, medication changes, and challenges. At the end she leaves a list of books (resources) and I loved that touch. Honest and raw, if these topics interest you, you will enjoy it. Obviously if both religion and mental health issues aren’t up your alley then you might want to skip it.

I have been loving memoirs regarding religious trauma lately, and this book was no doubt one I loved as well. However, it differs from the majority of what I have read in one huge way: it does not completely denounce former faith and instead chooses to reconcile with it healthily. A very captivating and stunning portrait of the life of one woman struggling with her mental health and religious identity's intersection.

As someone who was raised evangelical, and who has experienced difficulties addressing my mental health and depression safely in the face of my family's religion, I jumped at the chance to read this memoir. Anna's story is one that needs to be shared, and I can only imagine how difficult yet hopefully healing it must have been to write.
I have read a lot of memoirs over there years, and never feel it's fair to rate them, given their deeply unique and personal nature, but simply based off of writing style and the flow of the book, this was middle of the road for me. Many of the biblical stories could have been abbreviated and still provide the necessary connection to Anna's journey and the writing was a bit dry. Overall, I'm grateful for the opportunity to read and appreciate Anna and her story.

I received a copy of this book ahead of its release via NetGalley.

I wanted to like this memoir more than I did, thinking it would be similar to Educated by Tara Westover, but the story fell flat for me. Though I was intrigued by the author's religious background and the intersection between her spirituality and mental health, I didn't realize just how dominant religion would be throughout the story. The inclusion of scripture and extensive description of biblical stories was simply overwhelming and I found myself skipping over them (and her descriptions of the many - many - churches she visited). One thing I did enjoy reading (that I did not expect) was how supportive her family was, even though it may not seem that way in the beginning.

Additionally, the author's interactions with different religious leaders, therapists, and medical professionals seemed superficial. I didn't feel connected to her or any of the other people in the story. The characters weren't well-developed and were often phased out as soon as they were introduced (i.e., her ex-boyfriend, the therapist she saw at NC State, her relationship with her husband).

Overall, I would give the book 2.5 stars, rounded to 3. I would recommend this book to individuals who enjoy reading about how scripture/religion is reflected in the everyday lives of others who are struggling with mental health.

I will start by saying the cover is stunning. I wanted to like this so much. I tried to look past the fast that there would be a lot of spirituality in here, but the constant reiterations of stuff in the Bible was too much, and took away my enjoyment of the story. I do enjoy the author's writing style, so if they made a fiction book without religion attached to it, I would be in to try it! I DNF'd around 15%.

Thank you NetGalley and Simon and Schuster for this eARC in exchange for an honest review.

When I requested this, I thought it was a memoir of the author escaping her Evangelical church, not still vying for their acceptance. I was expecting a good old-fashioned "trash the church" read and that is unfortunately not what I got.

Anna Gazmarian chronicles her life from her youth through adulthood reconciling her diagnosis of bipolar disorder with her membership in an Evangelical Christian church in America.

As she goes through her life, especially her youth and her college years and she describes various aspects of her faith I had to remind myself that the book is not an expose of the church and she’s not running from it, but trying to find a place there, and readers like me who aren’t a part of the church and often automatically see Evangelicals as staunch “others” may share that bias.

The same goes for the authors heavy reliance on scripture throughout the book. She certainly knows her Bible, but for those of us not used to applying a Bible verse to every situation, it may not resonate.

All that said, I enjoyed the book. The author does find her place through trial and error and she never gives up on herself. She has many good mentors along the way and is lucky enough to meet the perfect man, so she’s got that going for her. The book is likely meant for a different audience, but I still liked it.

ok so for me as someone with a mental illness, i really felt for Anna. I know how hard it is to be different then everyone in the way you see the world and that was really well done in this book. the conversation of the cult like vibes were interesting and kept me involved. I will say the struggled toward the middle a little with feel a little like it was .. i dont want to say slow because that's not it, but it left me wanting more information. all in all a good solid read and i would recommend. i hope to get a paper copy at some point to add to my collection to be able to show it off on my channel.

We've come to expect a certain sense of drama when it comes to memoirs centered around mental health, a sort of chaos meets crisis narrative arc.

Yet, as I was winding down my time with Anna Gazmarian's "Devout: A Memoir of Doubt," I was truck by a sense of almost eerie calm.

It was unusual, really. It was surprising. To be honest, it was a little jarring. It wasn't that Gazmarian hadn't invited me into her world, especially her world of the past 10-12 years after she was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Type 2, in 2011. She had. She writes with honesty and vulnerability throughout "Devout."

I have read quite a few memoirs dealing around aspects of faith and mental health, a fact partly owing to my own background and partly owing to having lost my wife to suicide. In most cases, these memoirs may be beautifully written but I often find that they center themselves around an almost cosmetic view of faith or, alternately, the trauma and drama of the mental health diagnosis.

Both are valuable. Both are necessary.

Yet, with "Devout" I am struck by how centered it is around Anna herself. There's a difference and it feels profound. It feels as if "Devout" lays the groundwork for how one should write about mental health and faith, disability and faith, trauma and faith and so on.

While there's certainly trauma here and certainly drama here, "Devout" finds its narrative power through the lens of Anna's constant searching for her own life's meaning, for human connection, and for how to reconcile her faith with a mental health diagnosis she was raised being told was an affliction of the spirit.

As a paraplegic/double amputee with spina bifida (and a very recent two-time cancer survivor), I resonated deeply with Anna's struggle to balance her deep faith, which is evident throughout, and a diagnosis that doesn't look or feel like the pretty pictures we're sold about what a life of faith will look like.

I have been told more times than I can count that my various afflictions are the result of a lack of faith, a spiritual affliction, or I have had people shake their heads at me because I refuse to simply gloss over it all because, well, Jesus. You know?

Somehow, Gazmarian paints a beautiful portrait of her faith journey yet an equally honest and beautiful portrait of her journey toward learning to live faithfully with a mental health diagnosis. She shares the struggles with those who don't understand, the joys of experiencing those who do, the poignancy of finding meaningful relationships, and the power of leaning into your dreams despite the uncertainty of them all.

I so often finish books like "Doubt" with a sense of melancholy. With "Devout," I experienced the author's highs and lows but also her constant sense of wonder, hope, perseverance, and faith. In fact, I'd dare say that as the final pages arrived I was immersed in an absolutely remarkable sense of faith.

The real power of "Devout" sneaks up on you. It's in the days that follow reading "Devout" that you begin to realize how much it has crept into your heart and into your mind. "Devout" may be a memoir of doubt, but it is most certainly an affirmation of love and hope and faith and the glorious imperfections that connect us all.

This is the autobiography of a woman, raised as an evangelical Christian and diagnosed at 19 as biopolar. who revised her Christian beliefs to include a scientific explanation of and pharmacological treatment for her disorder. Particularly interesting was her description of her experiences with ketamine therapy. Resources. Research.

This memoir is an intimate and personal look at chronic mental health issues (specifically depression), education/higher education, and Christianity. The writer has a strong narrative voice and some really lovely poetry on the page. This book feels very personal, and it doesn't attempt to contextualize outside research beyond a literary analysis of the Bible--there's a touch of acknowledgment about Christian colleges, for example, varying on rules, but never interrogation of, say, an openly queer student or a single mother might feel in that space, etc. The characters at times feel two-dimensional in that they exist for the narrative; parents are supportive and concerned; friends are singularly focused on the church, etc. These qualities lend to the book having an inward feeling, which makes sense given the very isolating and lonely experience of depression. Still, because the narrative involves almost no conflict outside of the depression, the protagonist feels a little passive and it reads like a chronology of events rather than an argument or analysis. I think I'm not the ideal reader for this book, but I'm very glad it exists, and I think it'll be a meaningful and life-saving read for others.