Crafted from slivers of reminiscence and reflection, Joan Wheelis’s memoir examines childhood attachment and the inevitability of loss. Both of Joan Wheelis’s parents were distinguished psychoanalysts, and the peculiarities of their profession made vivid impressions on her curious young mind. The Known, the Secret, the Forgotten re-creates her childhood in a series of jewel-like vignettes. At age six, she began spying on her father’s office door through a small latticed window, eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious patients who needed his help. On summer road trips to Puget Sound, her father would warn her of the dangers of self-deception, once scolding her for “acting falsely” when she waved at a truck driver through the rear window. Into this tapestry of memory Wheelis weaves profound reflections from adulthood. She reckons with her parent’s lives and legacies after their deaths, tracing beliefs and moments through the generations. As she revisits the rooms and landscapes of her past, her prose takes on the poetic logic of memory itself.