The theologian’s memoir is refreshingly raw about the wounds he’s suffered—and the wounds he’s inflicted. What’s most endearing about Even in Our Darkness, the new memoir from theologian Jack Deere, is also what’s most difficult: its rawness. Before picking it up, be warned: You will hold your breath for pages at a time, even to the last page. The reader never really gets any sort of break, which, I suppose, is fitting, seeing as the author has never seemed to get one either. Deere was born the child of drinkers and drifters. Suicide and substance abuse, violence and anger, were…

The theologian’s memoir is refreshingly raw about the wounds he’s suffered—and the wounds he’s inflicted. What’s most endearing about Even in Our Darkness, the new memoir from theologian Jack Deere, is also what’s most difficult: its rawness. Before picking it up, be warned: You will hold your breath for pages at a time, even to the last page. The reader never really gets any sort of break, which, I suppose, is fitting, seeing as the author has never seemed to get one either. Deere was born the child of drinkers and drifters. Suicide and substance abuse, violence and anger, were…