With 鈥淭he Harder I Fight the More I Love You,鈥� the Grammy-nominated Case, 54, turns further inward to tell stories in prose form, in this case a riveting memoir.

With the book’s candid coming-of-age聽revelations and shocking moments involving Case’s mother, some readers will be justified asking, “How is this not a work of fiction?”聽

Beyond the unbelievable, there are also the proverbial firsts: kiss, love, car and gig. Marked by the same descriptive writing Case employs in her songs, woven into these recollections of a life lived on the margins and in the mainstream are insightful ruminations on misogyny, racism and repressed rage.

鈥淭he Harder I Fight the More I Love You鈥� is certain to elicit laughs and likely tears, particularly when she writes about her childhood and formative years, which were marked by poverty, abandonment and sexual assault.

Case writes in the prologue that 鈥渕aking music is a soft rebellion in a world that鈥檚 always at your shoulder asking, 鈥榃hat makes you think you are so important that someone should listen to you?鈥欌€� After finishing this memoir, one is left feeling grateful for all the music makers, who, in a world that makes it ever more difficult for them to eke out a living, keep on going.

When I interviewed Case via Zoom, just after she returned from London, England, where she was working on a musical adaptation of 鈥淭helma and Louise,鈥� she looked jet-lagged and distraught; she said that two of her close friends had passed away recently on the same day.

In our discussion Case shared how this memoir arrived, along with the challenges 鈥� and joys 鈥� of making art in the 21st century.

Why put yourself out there and write such an honest memoir?

To be honest, I didn鈥檛 think I was going to write a memoir. It was at the height of the pandemic when Hachette (Case鈥檚 publisher, now called Grand Central Publishing) approached me with a deal. I wanted to write fiction, but they were like, 鈥榃e鈥檒l pay you to write a memoir.鈥� So, although it was not something they had to twist my arm for, writing about myself was not my first choice.

Was it hard to write these private stories, especially reliving those hard truths involving abandonment, trauma and poverty?

Actually, it felt normal. I鈥檓 already an oversharer. I鈥檝e talked to my friends and loved ones about these things a lot, and I live with them every day, so I didn鈥檛 have to crawl into a deep, dark place to write about them. I鈥檝e also had years of therapy. Some interviewers have commented on how sad and hard my story is and I鈥檝e replied, 鈥業t鈥檚 not really, because this is most people鈥檚 story.鈥� This is how most people in America live聽鈥� especially women. Most of us have been sexually assaulted or abused in some way and most people grow up poor. Sure, parts of my story are a little odd, but it鈥檚 not that bizarre. It鈥檚 also not a dark book. There is also a lot of joy.

Once you started to write, was it difficult deciding where to begin and what stories to tell?

Not really. It was more a feeling of, I live with myself and feel that I can be a little boring, plus I already know all (this) stuff, so why would I want to write about it? Luckily for me, I had a really great editor, and when I was stuck she would give me prompts, which were always helpful and made me think about things in a different way.

You鈥檝e been a professional musician for nearly three decades. In a music landscape marked by challenges, like the threat of AI, how do you stay passionate about your vocation?

AI won’t replace musicians, but we are becoming extinct. AI can鈥檛 do the same things to humans that songs created by humans can聽鈥� good things like ... making them feel part of a community, even if they are alone. AI can’t do that, but that鈥檚 what human music still gives you ... interesting variants, varieties and actual progress, not this weird, fake, faux-dystopian s—t.

In the book, you share how making strangers feel part of a community is something you love about being a touring musician 鈥� engaging a society that due to social media, the 24-7 news cycle and technology often doesn鈥檛 see the forest for the trees.

Definitely. As a touring musician I try to share that feeling with people who don鈥檛 leave their town every day, because America is very traumatized right now. We are not paying attention to our lives and we have ourselves to blame. I am so saddened to look around in public places and see people just staring at their phones. I sound like such a fuddy-duddy, but it’s true. There’s so much cool stuff happening all around you right now, but you have to practice noticing it. It just doesn鈥檛 come to you like things do on your phone.

You鈥檝e lived throughout North America, from places off the grid to big cities. Among all of them, Toronto holds a special place in your heart, doesn鈥檛 it?

Yes. I have a deep love for Toronto. It’s a place that has held a really important part of my heart for a long time. I was really hoping I could move there after I got out of art school in Vancouver, but I couldn’t get another visa to stay in Canada, so I had to go back to the United States, and I was really heartbroken ... I live in Vermont now, but my house burned down in 2017 and it鈥檚 an ongoing project that has been an albatross, so we’ll see where I eventually end up.

What’s the meaning of the image of the beast you drew on the book鈥檚 cover?

It鈥檚 about women who often have a lot of rage and are expected to make that rage into something cute, like a doily or a pot holder. But I am neither feminine nor cutesy. My rage has saved my life, so I鈥檓 not going to suppress it and I鈥檓 also not going to forge it into some kind of forgiveness. There鈥檚 a lot of talk about how people who are abused or manipulated should strive to forgive whoever did bad things to them. There is a time and a place for that if it鈥檚 organic, but trying to shape yourself into someone who forgives is also very toxic and very harmful.

I understand you are working on the music for a planned Broadway version of 鈥淭helma and Louise.鈥澛�What鈥檚 next?聽

Yes, I just got back from London. It鈥檚 really exciting because Callie Khouri, who wrote the original screenplay and won an Oscar, is writing the Broadway version of the story. It鈥檚 been a master class in songwriting and storytelling, and I鈥檓 grateful to be a part of it. I also have a new record that I just finished recording at my studio here in St. Johnsbury, Vt., that will come out sometime in the fall.

With all of these projects, I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of time to read, but is there a book consuming you right now?

You鈥檙e right, I have not been reading a lot lately, but I have been carrying around Tanya Tagaq鈥檚 novel 鈥淪plit Tooth鈥� for a while. I love it and I savour little pieces of it whenever I have a second on an airplane or wherever, because I’ve been travelling so much. I bought the book when it came out and I鈥檓 only just getting around to it now. But it doesn鈥檛 mean I love her work any less, because I adore her writing.

Case brings her 14-city book tour to the Toronto Reference Library’s Bram & Bluma Appel Salon on Feb. 3, in conversation with Sook-Yin Lee. The free event is sold-out, but same-day rush might become available.聽