06 Aug Book Review: The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch

Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir The Chronology of Water broke new ground when it debuted in 2011. It’s not just a life story—it’s a performance, weaving together trauma, addiction, sex, art, and motherhood in jagged fragments that crash into each other, much like the water that hangs over every chapter. Winner of Pacific Northwest and Oregon Book Awards, it’s both confessional and radical, marking Yuknavitch as a bold voice in contemporary memoir.

What’s it about?

This memoir defies chronology: events appear more like waves in memory than a straight timeline. Water—literal and figurative—binds the narrative together.

Arrival in Grief
The book opens with Lidia reeling from the stillbirth of her daughter. Under the warm run of a shower, she tries to scrub away the nightmare. That moment anchors the reader in the present grief while the chapters begin to ripple outward—childhood, swimming, abuse, loss—all circling back to that moment of rupture.

Childhood and Swimming
Raised by an abusive father and alcohol-dependent mother, Lidia escapes into the water. Competitive swimming offers structure and freedom. The pool becomes sanctuary—a place where she feels powerful, even as her life unravels outside its lanes.

College and Addiction
A swimming scholarship to Texas breaks when drugs and alcohol take hold. She relocates to Oregon, studies under Ken Kesey, drops out of swimming, and spirals. This section mixes sex, S&M, queer encounters, intense physicality, and shape-shifting identity. It’s raw, edgy, and wholly unfiltered.

Motherhood and Return
Despite everything, she rebuilds. She marries, adopts, and returns to swimming—not competitively, but as a way to survive and to reconnect with her body. The water continues to heal, even as the scars remain.

Art and Voice
Fragments of writing workshops, mentorship, and literary community rise between vignettes. She explores art’s power to narrativize pain and to seek liberation. The memoir itself becomes an act of resistance—a patchwork mosaic of memory, emotion, and defiance.

Fragmented Form
It’s not a linear memoir—it’s shards: dolphins jumping in and out of water. Each chapter is brief—a poem, a flash. But collectively, they crash into each other, building a powerful, immersive emotional tide.

What This Chick Thinks

Water as Metaphor and Memory

The water motif is genius. It’s escape, vulnerability, healing, and danger—fluid and uncontainable. It’s the glue that lets this nonlinear storytelling feel emotionally cohesive.

Brutal Honesty, Lyrical Voice

Yuknavitch doesn’t hold back: sexual violence, addiction, child loss. But she also writes with a poet’s heart. The prose is vivid—raw lines like “in water, like in books—you can leave your life” stick in your chest.

Experimental, Not Alienating

She plays with form—chapters as shards—but the emotional logic is clear. You’re never confused about how she feels, even if you’re never sure of the exact sequence of events.

Trauma Doesn’t End with the Book

It’s not tidy. The memoir resists neat conclusions. Loss lingers. Healing isn’t perfect. That messiness is why it resonates. It doesn’t sell you closure—it gives you honesty.

A Few Moments That Hover Too Long

The sex and S&M sequences are vivid and sometimes visceral to the point of being slightly uncomfortable—not because they’re gratuitous, but because Yuknavitch refuses to shy away. It’s a risk that usually pays off, but occasionally left me wanting just the hint of space afterward.

Final Thoughts

The Chronology of Water isn’t gentle. But its honesty is relentless and necessary. It’s a feminist memoir about survival, creativity, embodiment, and finding voice. If you want a title that breaks the rules of memoir and still carries you into its depths—this is it.

Rating: 9/10

Try it if you like:

• Her Other Mouths by Lidia Yuknavitch – A short collection of visceral, body-focused essays in the same bold voice.
• Troubled Daughters, Twisted Wives edited by Sarah Weinman – A collection of dark, emotionally sharp stories that explore female trauma and strength.
• The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson – Fragmented, theory-laced memoir about gender, identity, queerness, and love.