“We live our lives not realizing which moments are special or which are ordinary—what will we remember, what memories will we try to grab onto, to hold close? All of these moments that make up a life."

Oof, this one hurt. @carter_sickels #ThePrettiestStar, the story of a young man living with AIDS in the late 80s, is a particularly poignant one given last week being 40 years since the first reported cases. I knew it wasn’t going to be a happy read per day, but damn…

Brian, a 24 year old man who escaped to New York as a teen, finds himself heading home to tiny Chester, OH after the death of his boyfriend. His parents lack of acknowledgment over his homosexuality can’t be ignored when he tells them he is HIV positive. Told through video diaries made by Brian, along with his mother and 14 year old sister, #ThePrettiestStar reveals, with biting reality, how the AIDS epidemic impacted rural communities across the country.

What I found most interesting about this read (other than the GORGEOUS cover) was that it stepped away from the “living in the city during the AIDS crisis” trope that so many books talk about. Obviously, given the density of queer men living in urban areas at the time, it makes sense. But what happens when one of those men tries to reach back out to his roots and… make amends? Reconcile? Choose to no longer live in fear? Brian’s motivations are unclear, but his choice to leave his new life to return home to a place where people don’t want to acknowledge his truth is powerful. While his video diary segments of the novel are well written, the chapters told from his mother’s point of view are particularly powerful. I can’t say I liked her as a character, she is obviously flawed, but that’s looking at it from a present day lens—at the end of the day, she is a scared mother who sees her son dealing with the unknown. Perhaps one of the stronger characters was Brian’s grandmother, Lettie, who we only experience from the various narrators’ points of view. I hope there were more Lettie’s out there during this time—people willing to stand up against discrimination and fear to support their loved ones.

Sometimes, queer lit can come across as trauma porn - I’ve seen people describe books like this as such and I’ve never really understood that. This is a part of a history, our history as queer people, that shouldn’t be ignored or forgotten. It shouldn’t be glossed over or viewed through rose colored lenses; it was a blatant disregard for human life by our government because we were different. Stories like this need to be told, shared with younger generations who are lucky enough to live in a time when HIV is no longer a death sentence, but as a reminder that there is still so much ignorance about this disease out there.

It was a tough read, but Sickels’ prose was wonderful, and I would encourage anyone to pick this one up.