God I wish I’d had a copy of this when I was like 13. I’m usually more of a purple prose enjoyer, but the straightforward style made this feel so immediate and personal. I’m glad I was familiar with Feinberg’s life and activism before going in, because otherwise many moments in here would have felt very “and then everybody clapped”. But ze was really about it.

Much has been said about the brutality in this novel, but it was the soft squishy parts that really broke me. I had to put the book down and lie down many times.

It feels like a diary, a condensed history, an indictment, and a mirror all at once. This really nestled into my heart, I already know I’m going to re-read it in a few years’ time. A salve for my little outsider heart.