Memoirs are tricky to review because they are about a person's own life and their perceptions of their experience, so ultimately who am I to have an opinion on if I was adequately entertained? Usually I cover writing quality and Islamic representation and leave it at that, and to that regard, this book is well written. It held my attention, and undoubtedly the medical horrors and ordeals she faced and overcame, that could truly happy to anyone, are worthy of being shared. The parts that rubbed me the wrong way more often than not, was how the Islam was woven in. It wasn't a light of hope in her troubled times, or a balm when there was only loss, it seems like she wanted to opine on Islam and its shortcomings from a place of someone who practices, and wants to set the record straight, but gives no background for her interpretations or authority on the subjects she is speaking upon. The waxing and waning of faith didn't bother me so much over the 263 pages, but rather her attitude toward hadith and sunnah. and conflating cultural practices with Islamic doctrine. I can't even begin to imagine what the average non Muslim readers' takeaway would be regarding trials and how Islam guides us to approach them. This book would have people thinking some very cultural things are normative in faith, that even as a Desi, had me questioning how it all relates. Why are people running up and down "holy" mountains in India with Qurans, and praying at shrines, why are imams naming kids based on the alignment of the stars, why is blood being put on her feet and eggs near her head to be later tossed in alleyways, why are duas being called wishes, and since when does hijab equal erasure. There is no padding of her statements, that "I felt Islam's view on this was hard or easy," she states everything as factual, yet there are no sources in the text or backmatter that give credence to her statements. I am glad she survived, I'm glad she was able to reconnect with her self, the cover is beautiful, but the religious and cultural threads make me unable to encourage others to read the book. And what is her legal name? I'm genuinely curious to know.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book will be released in the US on March 4th, 2025 from Catapult.

Some books demand to be read slowly, their sentences savored like incantations. Pieces You’ll Never Get Back: A Memoir of Unlikely Survival by Samina Ali is one such book—lyrical, haunting, and deeply introspective. In the wake of a harrowing medical crisis, Ali stitches together a self that was shattered, using memory, faith, and writing as both tools and battlegrounds. Her story is not just one of survival but of reclamation, of choosing how to piece herself back together after nearly being lost forever.

Ali’s memoir begins with the traumatic birth of her son, a moment that should have been sacred but instead becomes a site of violence and neglect at the hands of white doctors who refuse to see her, speak to her, or listen to her warnings. Their failure to recognize a rare form of preeclampsia, one that originated in her liver rather than presenting as typical hypertension, leads to HELLP syndrome—an often-fatal condition that leaves her brain swollen, scattered, and broken by strokes. When she awakens from a coma, she has only the most rudimentary functions, speaking in her first language, Urdu, but unable to grasp the reality of her own motherhood. The journey that follows is one of painful reconstruction, of filling in the gaps left by memory loss and medical trauma, of navigating an American medical system that failed her while also reckoning with the patriarchal traditions of her Muslim upbringing.

What makes Pieces You’ll Never Get Back so compelling is Ali’s refusal to accept easy narratives. She was dubbed the “Miracle Girl” by her doctors, yet she questions what kind of mercy strips a mother of her ability to recognize her own child. She reexamines Islamic theology, looking at conceptions of the afterlife, the sacred origins of the Qur’an, and the faith’s reverence for the written word—all through the lens of a woman whose mind has betrayed her but whose survival depended on language. As she struggles with aphasia and cognitive impairment, writing becomes the very thing that allows her to heal.

Ali’s prose is as fractured and luminous as the memories she tries to reconstruct. Her writing is steeped in sensory detail, moving with rhythmic intensity between the past and the present, between what is known and what is lost. The memoir’s strongest moments lie in its exploration of identity—not just the binaries of American and Indian, Muslim and secular, pre-stroke and post-stroke—but the fluid, shifting reality of selfhood when one’s own body becomes unfamiliar.

If there is any shortcoming in Pieces You’ll Never Get Back, it’s that the ending feels slightly rushed. After so much meticulous excavation of memory, the final chapters don’t linger long enough in the aftermath of Ali’s recovery. And yet, perhaps that is fitting—survival is not a neat conclusion, but an ongoing act.

This is a book that does not flinch from pain, nor does it romanticize resilience. Instead, it honors the messiness of recovery, the grief of what is lost, and the grace found in rebuilding. Ali’s memoir is a testament to the power of writing, of reclaiming one’s narrative when the world tries to silence it. An essential read for anyone who has ever had to fight to be heard, to be seen, to survive.

📖 Recommended For: Readers drawn to lyrical and introspective memoirs, narratives of medical trauma and recovery, and explorations of cultural identity; those interested in the intersections of faith, memory, and storytelling.

🔑 Key Themes: Trauma and Healing, Memory and Identity, Cultural Heritage and Faith, The Power of Writing as Survival.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Medical Content (severe), Medical Trauma (severe), Racism (minor), Misogyny (minor), Death of a Parent (minor), Cancer (minor).

At the age of 29, Samina Ali, encountered a life-threatening ordeal during childbirth due to uncontrolled eclampsia. Although she survived, she sustained a significant brain injury and entered a coma, awakening to discover that she had lost the majority of her memories, including those of her husband and newborn son. Medical professionals predicted that she would never fully recuperate or resume her writing career. Defying these grim forecasts, Ali embarked on a formidable path of rehabilitation. The emotional turmoil of reconciling her former self with her altered reality was profound, necessitating a number of years before she begins to feel a semblance of normalcy. In her memoir, Samina Ali delves into themes mortality, rehabilitation, and motherhood. The novel was easy to read and interesting. It would have been interesting to get more accounts of her time in the hospital, from the viewpoints of her family. It is amazing that with everything that she endured, she was able to reclaim her life and her career.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the advance review copy in exchange for my honest review.

The experience this book describes is terrifying--and I am so glad the writer wrote this book. A lovely mix of personal memoir, reporting, and lyric essay here.