Dreams in Which I’m Almost Human

At eight years old, Hannah Soyer had no choice but to undergo an intensive spinal fusion surgery, in order to keep her lungs from eventually collapsing. Fourteen years later, she chose another treatment for her neuromuscular condition: regular drug injections into her spinal fluid. But what does “choice” really mean, and how much weight do our choices hold?

In taut, lyrical chapters, Dreams in Which I’m Almost Human confronts and communes with bodily autonomy, medical and sexual consent, traveling abroad in a wheelchair, caregiving and caretaking, appreciating the natural world, family history, bedtime stories, fantastical creatures, Irish poetry, and the limits and wonders of language and love. A bold collection of genre-bending essays, this memoir is an investigation into what we (and our words) are capable of, as we yearn to make sense of our relationships to ourselves, each other, and the worlds we inhabit.

Advanced Praise

“Dreams in Which I’m Almost Human generously and whimsically offers a timely examination of life—rich, complicated life—in a vulnerable body. With lyrical finesse, Hannah Soyer weaves together the personal and the political, dreams and nightmares, flesh and machine, the mermaid tail and the surgical scalpel, to tell a story that wonders and wanders. Instead of offering cheap, tidy resolutions, she invites readers to sit boldly, audaciously in the ambiguity of life tethered to a body.”
— Rebekah Taussig, author of Sitting Pretty: The View from My Ordinary Resilient Disabled Body

“Hannah Soyer’s Dreams in Which I’m Almost Human asks readers to radically reconsider what constitutes a body. Exploring themes of ability, capacity, and dependency, Soyer pushes readers to question the boundary between self, other, and world. Soyer does this work lyrically, poetically, and mythically, merging coming-of-age, fairy tale, and quotidian daily life into an expansive, unique, and uncanny new world. Soyer’s beautiful debut is essential reading for anyone trying to understand how, why, and through what means we construct our selves.”
— Cyrus Dunham, author of A Year Without a Name