At the age of sixty, Virginia Jean Wesley is amazed at the series of "tragedies and miracles" that have unfolded throughout her life. Eager to share her story with others, she reflects on the most significant events of her life in her memoir, To Begin Again: A Life of Tragedies and Miracles. From her struggle to connect with her husband after his experience in the Vietnam War, to fighting her own battle against two debilitating diseases—MS and breast cancer—Wesley revisits the poignant moments from her past with enthusiasm.

Citing "keen memory and instant recall" as her primary method for relating events, Wesley's style is drifting and haphazard. She details memories as they occur to her, often jumping from topic to topic with no real sense of direction or purpose. On the surface, this style mimics the intimate nature of storytelling—of a mother sharing bits and pieces of her life with a child, weaving in people and events as they surface in her memory. It's a natural way to tell a story and creates a friendly rapport with the reader by allowing a deeper level of intimacy. However, this method also invites seemingly unnecessary and unrelated anecdotes on friends and family where entire paragraphs are dedicated to gushing about grandchildren or providing meticulous details about camping trips. It is glaringly obvious that there is no criterion for the memories that Wesley explores. By weeding out extraneous stories, the truly poignant memories—the "miracles" Wesley is so anxious to depict—could have a more significant affect on the reader and allow Wesley to give them the emotional weight they deserve.

Though Wesley is forthcoming with her emotions, her writing lacks depth and her expressions of emotion are elementary and superficial; for example, she never goes beyond telling us how much she loves or loathes particular people. Much of the memoir reads like a collection of shout-outs to people Wesley likes, rather than a well-crafted analysis of life with meaningful connections. The reading experience is like sifting through a diary, but Wesley rarely sinks deep enough to help the reader empathize with her struggles. Although obsessed with self-analysis—there are original excerpts from her graphology and totem readings—she does not allow enough psychic distance from her material to develop that critical self-awareness that makes a memoir both readable and relatable.

One of the last sections of the memoir is dedicated to Wesley's recent trip to China. This is by far the most captivating portion of the book. Vivid and descriptive, Wesley employs traditional travelogue writing but also makes a necessary emotional investment. Against the backdrop of the ancient city of Kashgar, in the Uyghur region of China, she struggles to come to terms with a troublesome romantic relationship and gives the reader some solid insight into her character while successfully weaving in insightful descriptions of her experience as a foreigner in China.

The events in Wesley's life are certainly compelling. In this memoir however, the lack of structure, depth, and sincere emotional reflection create a muddled read that gets lost in self-indulgent writing. This work may fulfill the author's need for catharsis, but it must be restructured and further refined before it can appeal to the average reader.