I think Nina LaCour and I have very similar ideas of love.

This is my fourth book of hers and, as with all the others, I feel wrapped and at home in the pages. I feel recognized. All the familiar themes are there: growth around painful things, gentle tender love, the importance of art and working with your hands. She writes female bisexuality with a warm that I resonate with, something that I don't see nearly as often as I would like.

Objectively, this is the worst book of hers that I've read. And I still really really liked it. It reminded me most of We Are OK, since it shared themes of flight, lost love, and navigating difficult families. I fought the urge to cry during and after reading this book, and I can't even really tell you why. The best I can say is this: it feels intimate without being voyeuristic. I'm happy that my heart has no defences against this book.

I wouldn't recommend this as your first Nina LaCour, because she doesn't shine quite as overtly here as she does in other works. But if you, like me, find yourself at home in her words, give this one a try.