In her debut solo work titled “A Gentle Eruption,” Carissa Finneren writes through the in-between, where memory and emotion quietly unravel in the search for home.
It often starts with a memory. Something small, like a popsicle dripping down your fingers, the lowing of cows in the neighbourhood, or the sand between your toes on a hot summer’s day. Then, without warning, it builds. What begins as quiet reflection slowly grows into something much larger. That’s the rhythm of “A Gentle Eruption” by Carissa Finneren: gentle at first, then unstoppable, a slow revealing of parts of the self that had long been buried, until they finally insist on being seen.
Initially a means of finding comfort during a global uncertainty, the writing of this book guided Finneren towards the deeper corners of her emotional history, where she patiently sits with each memory, gently letting it unfurl, revealing moments of both warmth and pain. Readers get a glimpse into her attempts at trying to understand herself while staying true to who she is in a world that constantly pours out presumptions on her. The title, “A Gentle Eruption,” fittingly captures the raw emotional process behind Finneren’s journey of crafting this book. She likens it to a volcanic law: slow-moving but impossible to stop once set in motion. What’s striking is that although Finneren writes from a deeply personal perspective, one of which is navigating living in the “in between” of being of mixed Indonesian and American heritage, the themes she unpacks are broadly relatable.
Her experience will resonate with many who have felt they belonged everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Rather than painting this as a struggle to overcome, she reframes it as a place of richness. Identity, for her, is not a fixed point but a fluid space; something to be shaped, questioned, and ultimately embraced. It’s a refreshing take that resists the more dramatic arcs of self-discovery narratives and instead allows for nuance—even peace—in the ambiguity.
The book doesn’t follow a neat narrative structure, nor does it attempt to. Instead, the pieces come together more like fragments, collections of episodes made of thoughts and memories, connected by mood and meaning rather than chronology. Some pages sit close to poetry, others feel like bare confessions.
The visual aspect of the book deserves mention, too. Finneren collaborated with a longtime friend and artist, Jasmine E., who shares a similar journey of navigating identity. The cover’s deep blue hues evoke calm and introspection, while sketches of lava flowing from an erupting volcano echo the book’s an emotional outpouring long held within. Butterflies appear as symbols of transformation and resilience, while a sketch of a mosque gestures towards Finneren’s cultural roots and the layered nature of identity and belonging. It’s a visual language that resonates deeply, especially with readers who, like the author, live in the in-betweens; between Indonesia and elsewhere, between cultures, languages, and ways of being.
Perhaps the most refreshing thing about “A Gentle Eruption” is that it doesn’t pretend to be definitive. Finneren isn’t offering answers, and she doesn’t force her reflections into neat conclusions. It leaves readers with the quiet reminder that journeys of self-discovery are ongoing, ever-shifting, and so beautifully human in their uncertainty.
To purchase this book, contact and follow @carissa.p.finneren on Instagram.
