Songs Only You Know: A Memoir

In this overlong memoir, Hoen tells of growing up in and outside of Detroit with a crack-smoking father, a helpless but stoic mother, and a painfully shy and desperately-seeking-meaning-in-life sister. Hoen channels his own frustration into playing in a punk music band. Weaving stories of the band’s life with his family life, he paints a now all-too-typical tale of a family going down in flames. Music sort of saves him, though: “With every traveled mile I sensed a mythology in the making, a history I imagined musicologists discussing years later.” Eventually, Hoen comes to himself, though not before losing himself again: “To achieve self-invention, you first evacuate the truest parts of yourself—they were slipping from me, connected only by a fear of losing touch completely.” In the end, what starts as a promising read, loses its rhythm. (Apr.)