Jeannine Atkins’ previous novels have highlighted the lives of courageous women. In her new book, Knocking on Windows, the author shares her own story of resilience. Her memoir-in-verse takes readers back to her freshman year of college after she survived a devastating trauma. The story follows her journey towards personal growth, hope, and self-love, and the comfort she felt in the works and stories of female poets. We sat down with Jeannine to discuss the process of translating her real-life experiences to a novel in verse.
Trigger Warning: This article and Knocking on Windows by Jeannine Atkins contain mentions of sexual assault. Please exercise personal care while reading.
About Jeannine Atkins
Jeannine Atkins is the author of several books for young readers about courageous women, including Finding Wonders: Three Girls Who Changed Science, Grasping Mysteries: Girls Who Loved Math, Stone Mirrors: The Sculpture and Silence of Edmonia Lewis, and Borrowed Names: Poems about Laura Ingalls Wilder, Madam C.J. Walker, Marie Curie, and Their Daughters. She also wrote memoir-in-verse Knocking on Windows. Jeannine teaches writing for children and young adults at Simmons University. She lives in western Massachusetts. Visit her at JeannineAtkins.com.
Thank you, Jeannine. Let’s get started.
As this work was written entirely in verse, it isn’t required to be chronological; however, it feels this way. Is there a specific memory or touchstone — or in this case, poem — that you built the rest of the story around?
Yes. Sometimes events where people gather and perhaps awards are given are seen as markers, but crucial changes may often be private. I remember an evening when I let go of quietness and looked composed as a moment when I could break into a new future. I worked back to show my history of silence, as well as buying the long black coat I wore that day.
The titular poem “Knocking on Windows” doesn’t appear until halfway through the book. Can you talk about your process for choosing this poem as the title, and why it stood out to you so much?
The memoir includes tributes to women’s writing that made me feel less alone. A scene in Sylvia Plath’s autobiographical novel, The Bell Jar, shows the lead character punching a man after he knocked her down and tore off the top of her dress. She ran to a parking lot, wrapped in a shawl, her face bloodied, and knocked on car windows to get a ride home. Most drivers turned away. To me, this seemed like the life of a poet, knocking, knocking with need, glass between the speaker and others, before one person listens.
The way in which the verses are structured across the book makes it feel as though you are maturing as a person as the writing develops. The audience gets to feel that growth, not only in your vivid descriptions, but also in your artistic choices. What were your conversations with yourself like when recalling these moments?
It’s a great question, if a bit hard to answer: I suppose most good questions are. Generally, I began with visual images of important scenes and discovered more as I looked for the right words for them.
There’s a specific moment in the poem titled “Cold Coffee” where Deborah addresses you by name, saying, “Jeannine, everyone has choices / she was selfish,” in reference to Sylvia Plath. That moment felt very powerful. Are there any other moments of “fourth wall” breaking in your poetry that you didn’t get to include in this memoir?
No. I thought it would be most powerful to use my name in the book just once.
In an interview with Publishers Weekly, you spoke about the way writing can act as a healing tool and offer visibility. How has that changed the way you write and your view of writing about trauma as a whole?
For most of my career, I’ve written about women from the past who were often well known in their time, then largely forgotten. I studied the salvaged facts, often scant, and took a poet’s prerogative to imagine my way into the spaces that weren’t in the historical record. Turning the lens onto my life was very different, but I think no matter the subject, writing can be a way to create a safe, quiet place for the writer where healing can happen.
Your influences are very clear within the book; not just the ones referenced, but the way you pay homage to other writers. You state in “Vocation,” “I write because others wrote before me / because others are writing now.” Who are the writers of “now” that are inspiring you?
I’m reading Fredrik Backman’s novel My Friends, poetry by Marie Howe, and, because I can’t ever get enough of the poet who shaped my memoir, Loving Sylvia Plath by Emily Van Duyne, a book that offers many ways to look at a complicated woman in the context of a changing world.
Lastly, what is your advice for poets who wish to write about heavy topics in such an expressive medium as in verse?
I’ve always had to start with a mess of very wrong words, so for me, patience, letting go, and starting over have been crucial. A lot of life demands fighting back, but we need to be soft to find beauty that can be hidden in all kinds of rubbish. Go for it, but go gently, ready to forgive yourself for mistakes we’re all bound to make along the way.
A huge thank you to Jeannine Atkins for taking the time to talk about her memoir-in-verse with us! Be sure to find her online at jeannineatkins.com and follow her on Pinterest and Bluesky. Lastly, add Knocking on Windows to your TBR!
For more books discussing sexual assault, check out this article.
For more books like Knocking on Windows, check out our Thought-Provoking Novels About Womanhood collection on Bookshop.
