Good Reads: "Ghosted: An American Story"

Book 8 of 2026 (April 15 to 23) was an unexpectedly fascinating personal (true) story of a woman's life journey — from a checkered family background through abuse, political and personal upheaval, and ultimately finding courage and faith.

Ghosted: An American Story by Nancy French

Nonfiction, Memoir/Autobiography

To get this out of the way from the beginning, I knew of Nancy (Anderson) French, the author of Ghosted: An American Story, because she and I were only two years apart at the same high school — Henry County High School in Paris, Tenn. (she, the Class of 1993, and I, the Class of 1995). The best I can recall, I had exactly one personal interaction with her — I was wearing or holding some sort of Bush/Quayle ’92 campaign paraphernalia in the lunchroom at Henry County High School during my sophomore year (the year I also wore a Rush Limbaugh–inspired “deficit-reduction ribbon” — a dollar bill fashioned into an AIDS-awareness–style ribbon — in my yearbook photo ... I was very cool). She was the Homecoming Queen, and I was decidedly (especially based on my interest in conservative politics at 15 years old in the 1992–93 school year) not running in the same circles of cool. We were not friends, but we do come from the same place and know many of the same people, more or less. However, her origin story did play a role in sparking my interest in reading her 2024 memoir. 

I'm glad I did.

A quick Google search reveals that the word “apocalyptic” derives from the Ancient Greek apokalypsis, meaning “unveiling” or “revelation,” and refers to the end of the world or dramatic, catastrophic change. I would wager that most everyone has apocalyptic moments in their lives. For Nancy French, her life seems to be filled with such moments — some good and some horrifying and traumatic. Born in Appalachia, she came from a family marked by violence and poverty. As a small child, her family believed she had a quasi-supernatural gift: the ability to “see things that are far off, have passed, or will come” (p. 12) — the first of the “ghost” references in the book.

After a family move to Paris, Tenn. (home of the World’s Biggest Fish Fry, a miniature Eiffel Tower overlooking the city pool, and the largest town near the beautiful Kentucky Lake/Land Between the Lakes region), abuse entered the picture as a minister (“Conrad”) associated with her Church of Christ congregation groomed and abused her starting at age 12. These events permeate the rest of the book and many parts of her story. A high school boyfriend (“Jacob”) continues the mental and physical abuse into her freshman year of college at Lipscomb University in Nashville.

Before I go further and because we are from the same hometown, I have two side notes as a slight digression from looking at Ghosted.

Side note 1: I’m 99.9% sure French uses pseudonyms for many people mentioned in this autobiography. My sister (Class of 1992) would have, theoretically, been in the same class as “Jacob,” and my family and friends may well have known — or known of — the Sulphur Well Church of Christ–associated “Conrad,” but I, at least at this time, remain oblivious as to actual identities. My former journalism Spidey-senses make me curious to do some digging, but I also understand their place in French's story without knowing their true identities.

Side note 2: Perception is a tricky thing. French’s description of her life in Paris (and especially at Grove Junior High and Henry County High School) is one of barely living above poverty and being ashamed to have friends over to her house. My only knowledge of her in high school was as one of the “cool/popular/in crowd,” with the aforementioned Homecoming Queen crown, academic awards, and prominence among her peers. What I perceived of a person in my first two years of high school and what reality was did not necessarily add up. As I was reading, this dissonance jarred me slightly from her overall story. However, like a duck gliding across the water, what’s happening under the surface is not often reflective of the picture above it.

French’s early adult life is a “car careening down the road at reckless speed” kind of ride. The death of a close friend (of which French had a premonition — harking back to her ability to "see things"), faltering academic performance, and a crisis of faith seem to be leading to personal disaster until she meets David French. Within three-plus months, they marry (in the “real” Paris).

The quick turnaround from introduction to marriage — to a man who would become a prominent figure in political conservatism — only added to French’s sense of adventure. Without recapping the entire book, French capitalizes on opportunity about as well as anyone I’ve ever read. She makes the most of opportunities to launch a ghostwriting career (another “ghost” in the story), working with celebrities and, mostly, political conservative figures. David French’s law career turned military service in the Iraq War, an adoption story, her role in the Sarah Palin phenomenon of the late 2000s, and being treated royally in early 2010s conservative circles round out the first half of her story.

Enter the apocalypse known as Donald Trump.

The upward trajectory of family and career hits a roadblock in 2016 with the political ascendance of Trump. Both Frenches balk at the road conservatives take by backing Trump, and the third ghost — where friends abandon (or "ghost") you — enters the frame.

I highlighted this crucial paragraph on page 153, as French brilliantly describes the dissonance of evangelical Christians’ full-throated embrace of not just Trump the candidate, but the anti-Christ-like venom in which his moment marinates:

“My entire life, Sunday school teachers presented scenarios designed to make us stick to our values, usually about resisting peer pressure at high school parties. But today the peer pressure scenario was not an imagined scenario at all. It was real, and the temptation was coming from Christians themselves. My fellow churchgoers were passing around the red Solo cup of bitterness and contempt, laughing, and eventually the cup stopped in front of me. But I'd paid attention to a lifetime of Sunday school lessons. I would not drink out of that cup.”

The apocalyptic nature of the last decade spans the back half of her memoir. From the upheaval of David French almost running for president as an independent spoiler candidate in 2016 to Nancy’s own painfully personal story of abuse becoming a national talking point via a column in the Washington Post, to investigating/advocating for other survivors in the Kanakuk Kamps abuse scandal and cover-up, the back half of the book is an intense and breathless read.

However, the final chapter describes the “ghost” that permeates her entire story — that of The Holy variety. French’s honest inquiry to her Creator — “What are you like, God?” (p. 261) — is one most honest questions people of faith ask at one time or another in their lives. God’s answer, in the form of a Van Halen classic (you’ll have to read the book to fully understand this point), is perhaps one of the most moving finales to a story I’ve read in some time.

I am not entirely sure what the marketing demographic for Ghosted is, but I’ll almost guarantee that a bald, former Volunteer-turned-Hoosier, middle-aged man would not be on any marketing docket from this book in any publishing house. However, much like Beth Moore’s 2023 memoir All My Knotted-Up Life, Nancy French’s Ghosted is valuable for a man like me to read and ponder. Her courage is challenging, her willingness to swim upstream while others float downstream (which would have yielded continued financial and career success) is inspiring. Books like these help me to, Lord willing, be a better human overall, be a more understanding husband to a wonderful woman who is forging her own path from struggle and trauma, and be a better father to two daughters standing at the entrance to independent adulthood.

While I may not be able to see myself in Nancy French’s revealing — apocalyptic — story (and I thank God my life has not been filled with near the turmoil), I believe readers can better understand our fellow man (and woman) by trying to listen to their stories.

I recommend this book to anyone.