[non]disclosure

Renée D. Bondy

Second Story Press, 2024

Review by Eleni Vlahiotis

[non]disclosure is as much about the silence that surrounds trauma as it is about the act of speaking out. Renée D. Bondy’s debut novel follows an unnamed young woman who, as an adult, learns she is not the sole victim of the Catholic priest who abused her as a child. The protagonist’s abuser, ominously referred to as “Father” casts a long shadow over her life. His presence haunts her through nightmares and flashbacks; a constant reminder of the enduring impact of abuse. Bondy structures the novel to reflect this haunting quality, employing visual disruptions to mirror the protagonist’s fractured sense of self.

Bondy approaches the subject matter of sexual abuse by clergy members with remarkable grace and precision. Set against the backdrop of the 1980s HIV-AIDS epidemic, the novel is an unflinching exploration of trauma and the intersections of personal and collective suffering. Bondy renders this period with vivid accuracy, infusing the narrative with a visceral sense of time and place that heightens the story’s emotional impact.

At its core, [non]disclosure is a narrative about the weaponization of silence. It confronts the crushing weight of responsibility that victims often bear to effect change and break cycles of violence and secrecy. Yet Bondy’s narrative is not devoid of hope. While the story is a reminder of how oppressive silence can be, it also illustrates how breaking it can become a transformative act of healing.  

“For years, I had worn silence like a second skin,” the protagonist muses at one point. It isn’t until Father’s criminal trial that she is finally able to interrupt the silence and shed her skin. As the trial unfolds, she is unexpectedly thrust into the role of caretaker for a man dying of AIDS and, later, runs a hospice for others in similar positions. Her role as a caretaker becomes both a healing balm and a burden, a space where she begins to piece together the disassembled parts of her identity. 

Within this community of men—many abandoned by society and their families—she finds unexpected solidarity and, most importantly, resilience and hope. It is an affirmation of life in the face of overwhelming loss.