Warning: Her may make you cry in a public place. Be prepared. Christa Parravani's memoir is that rare kind of book that hits you out of nowhere, and suddenly it's overwhelming you with cinematic swell. Parravani is an identical twin — or, rather, she was an identical twin. Her sister, Cara, was her best friend, her confidante, her entire world. And then, Cara becomes the victim of a terrible act of violence, falls into a spiral of drugs and depression, and ultimately passes away young, without leaving answers. Christa, who grew up feeling like one half of a sacred unit, didn't know how to go on, let alone thrive, without her sister. Her only option was to write her way into some sense of clarity. Parravani's book feels so special because you can see her struggling on the page, the act of acceptance taking shape with the words. Parravani begins bereft, but through telling the story of who Cara was, what it meant to be her sister, and what kind of person she might become without her other half, she gains strength. It's not often to find so much pleasure in the act of watching someone heal herself, but that's exactly what Her provides.