"A Secret Word is a remarkably subtle and nuanced coming-of-age novel, which captures the dreamy rhythms of adolescence between staccato moments of crisis as three perfectly ordinary and utterly memorable young southern women find themselves transported inexorably into the cosmopolitan landscape of womanhood. While many first novelists wave their arms and stamp their feet to get our attention, Jennifer Paddock seduces the reader with the narrative equivalent of a raised eyebrow or the almost imperceptible nod of the head. At the end the reader is inclined to ask of the writer as well as her characters—what’s next?”

Jay McInerney, author of Bright Lights, Big City

"A Secret Word is whole in a way that most of the kind are not; it resonates. That's partly because the three women at the center of the story are so memorable, their lives so inexorably linked, and partly because Paddock writes like Raymond Carver with a bigger heart––simple, graceful but tough, always with an eye on the possibility of redemption." 

Michael Knight, author of Goodnight, Nobody

"Jennifer Paddock’s writing is the result of the wise and sure work of a fine mind and steady hand.  It is lean and clear in the way poetry lends its best to fine prose."

Brad Watson, author of Aliens in the Prime of Their Lives

"Poignant and true, Paddock’s language evokes the elegiac way lives play themselves out. Her characters are vividly alive, for she writes with her heart as well as her hands."

“In The Weight of Memory, Jennifer Paddock returns with a delicately nuanced story of friendship and identity. The setting of Alabama's Gulf Coast is rendered with quiet eloquence, as are the strained relationships among three women whose lives intersect years after their childhood friendship faded. A riveting novel about memory, the meaning of home, and what we are willing to leave behind.”

Michelle Richmond, author of The Year of Fog

“There is something about Paddock’s writing that defies conventional description. The closest word I can summon is ‘magic’."

Melinda Haynes, author of Mother of Pearl

I look up everything I can about memory. I am starting to

understand. This is what I learn. There are three major types of long-term

memory: semantic, procedural, and episodic.

     Semantic memory is your general knowledge of the world, the

kind of things you learn in school like facts, language, and concepts.     

     Procedural memory is for skills, how to do things, like riding a

bike, playing a sport, or learning to type.  

     Episodic memory is the memory of unique experiences that

happened in a particular time and particular place.

     Episodic memory is the kind of memory that is lost in psychogenic

or dissociative amnesia, the amnesia that Walker has, which is

extremely rare. It is the kind of amnesia that people, including

doctors, have trouble accepting because it is hard to understand how

someone can just say, “I don’t remember,” if he or she hasn’t suffered

a brain injury or if a neurologist can’t find anything on a brain scan

or if it isn’t Alzheimer’s.

     What people don’t realize is how much we take memory for

granted. That memory is a gift. That telling stories about your past is

a gift and how debilitating it is when you lose that—when you don’t

know who you are, who your first girlfriend was, who your friends

were in high school.

     I can’t imagine not remembering those days at the lake with my

father or the junior high choir with Leigh or tennis with Sarah.

     They come back for Walker, these memories, but then they go

away. Everything for him is transient. For him, it is better to live

in the present. Better not to hang onto material possessions or

friends. He knows his family or closest friends will find him. He’ll

see that look of recognition and he can fake it and if he keeps faking

it eventually he will start to feel the real feelings he must have had

before. He can feel when he loves someone. He may not know them

but he can feel love.