I've heard so many great things about Priestdaddy over the years that I decided to read it after a lackluster March, hoping that a book so beloved would cast its warm light over my April and let me have a better reading month. And I really liked it, at least at first, until it shifted tone and became a book about writing itself. Toward the end, the chapters felt less cohesive to me, but where this book excels is voice. Lockwood has a way with observation and the unexpectedly-turned phrase that's truly delightful, and I think that if you like memoirs about laughing through family trauma and go in knowing that the lighthearted tone is not consistent throughout, you'll enjoy Priestdaddy. I want to say that it reminded me a bit of Running With Scissors, but I read that when I was like 18 and I'm 34 now, so maybe don't quote me on that.