Leo Tolstoy’s quip, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” is frequently cited by the literati. Prachi Gupta, a thirtysomething Indian American writer, nods to this. Raised with a doctor father, a tender mother and a gifted brother in a quintessentially suburban life, Gupta unveils what really goes on behind closed doors, be it mental health afflictions, verbal and physical abuse; all with the possibility of looming — though unexpected — deaths making an appearance. Her memoir, They Called Us Exceptional and Other Lies That Raised Us, was based on an essay she wrote in 2019, and her struggle to make sense of the death of her brother, with whom she shared an on-and-off companionship. The expansion into a book includes a wider lens of her upbringing in America and emergence into young adulthood — including romantic relationships, career changes, family dynamics — with further analysis. Edited excerpts from an interview.
Why write a memoir?
I never really wanted to write a memoir. I dreamed of writing fiction. But in 2017, my brother Yush died. We had been best friends for most of our lives, but at the time of his death, we had been estranged for about two years. In my grief, I had to understand how he died, and what any of us could have done differently to save him.
