Christy Warren's memoir "Flash Point" is a heartfelt exploration of what it means to serve others and the toll it takes on first responders. The book is both humorous and very emotional with Christy's unique voice shining through on every page. I was engrossed in her story from the start and couldn't stop sharing Christy's experiences with my family and friends. Most of us hear that first responders go through trauma. But many of us do not get a glimpse into what that trauma can feel like. Christy's book gives us that glimpse and more. What I found most remarkable is how Christy combines her most recent PTSD symptoms with developments in her childhood and how the sum of her life experiences shaped her attitude at work. And how that attitude provided fertile ground for her symptoms and hindered her recovery. Despite the somber tone of the subject matter, I have found this book to be a beacon of hope - a testimony to how we can overcome the hardest times. More than anything, it is life-affirming. You will probably shed a tear or two along the way but reading Christy's reflections on her life and seeing how far she's come will move you and hopefully help you face your life's challenges head on. Thank you to Christy and her agent for sharing a copy of this book with me.

This was an engrossing and descriptive memoir of an EMT and firefighter's career and resultant PTSD. It sheds light on commonly experienced psychopathology in this population, which many individuals may not realize. Very well written.

I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. Thank you NetGalley.

Flash Point is a memoir about a firefighter's journey in their job and with their struggles with PTSD. I think a lot of people often forget or overlook how debilatating PTSD can be for anyone... and most don't realize that firefighters frequently take their job home with them everyday.

The author did a great job telling their story and making it relatable and engaging.
Well worth the read.

"I was nineteen years old, an emergency medical technician," writes Warren, "working for a private ambulance company. On any given day for the next twenty-five years of my career as a paramedic and a firefighter, whenever I smelled hot asphalt, my skin sensed that woman's hair on my arm and heard her boy's screams" (loc. 60*).

As an EMT, Warren loved her job—but thought she could do more. After training as a paramedic, she still loved her job—and still thought she could do more. And when she shifted to firefighting, Warren excelled, holding her own against the job's exacting standards and against her own even more exacting standards. Lessons learned in childhood proved useful: she could put each trauma she saw and experienced in a box and shut the lid, and she could move on. It worked—until it didn't.

Warren's story is not an easy read. Some of her jobs sound like absolute doozies, and although it's possible that she's pulling punches (and no matter how good or detailed a description, I don't think it's possible for a reader to fully appreciate the impact of seeing and smelling and hearing and touching people burned, people broken), it certainly doesn't feel like it. I've read my fair share of first-responder memoirs, but I can't say that I've ever thought about seeing a woman's burned skin come off on your coat while you carry her to medical help. It's worth going in to the book prepared for grisly scenes, but it's also perhaps worth noting that I don't think it's really possible for the vast majority of first responders experiencing such things to go in prepared—to go in qualified, yes, but all the reading in the world couldn't tell me how I would feel working with trauma every day, or how it would sit in my bones.

I'm reminded, reading Warren's story, of a memoir by a doctor-soldier that I read a few years ago. Of the things he talked about, reluctance to acknowledge and deal with his PTSD stands out in my memory—this conviction that to admit to having PTSD would be to admit to a weakness, even if ignoring trauma meant compounding trauma, not only for himself but for the people around him. Warren's version is much more sympathetic to the people around her, but it is a painful reminder of how we view invisible illness and invisible trauma. If a firefighter thinks she should be ""strong enough"" to refuse painkillers with a smashed-in leg, you can imagine how hard it must be to address the things less talked about. Here's hoping that stories like Warren's can be impetus for change—not only for more accessible, more openly acknowledged treatment for acute PTSD, but for finding ways to address trauma sooner, so that fewer responders are simply stuffing it in boxes until the boxes can hold no more.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

*Quotes are taken from a review copy and may not be final.

The first thing I ask myself at the end of a memoir is, "did this person tell me everything, or just enough to seem genuine?" In the case of Christy Warren's Flash Point, I have no doubt she left her soul on the page.

A walk through the life of an EMT, turned paramedic, turned firefight, Flash Point is about how negative self-talk and trauma will build up and destroy your life. Warren writes this book with zero sense of self-preservation and it leaves her looking even more heroic. As someone who has PTSD, Warren's journey rings true in more ways than is prudent to detail in a book review. What I can say is that it hit so close to home that there were multiple times I needed to put the book down and get some space. I can't give her higher marks for honesty.

Warren's words are simple, to the point, and makes it feel like you are sitting next to an old friend who decided to unburden themselves after years of hiding. It's an excellent book and a must read.

(This book was provided as an advance copy by Netgalley and She Writes Press. The full review will be posted to HistoryNerdsUnited.com on 6/20/2023.)