This is a tricky one to review, because it is such a tender story and I'm so glad that the author went on this journey and wrote her story. But this is not really the story of Roy Hudgins. It is Casey Parks' story about her ambivalence of being queer in the deeply religious south, the history of that landscape - both culturally and personally, and the unfolding connection and healing she had with her mother. Throughout the book, we are treated to deep, memoir-like essays of what this journey back to her home town evoked in her heart and that honesty and transparency is beautifully written and deeply moving. And yet, it feels like the author is still hiding - using Roy's story (and really, there isn't much of a story in the end) to sidestep what is actually unfolding for her in her heart. The connections she makes to herself and Roy ring false, other than the desire to dress in more "masculine" clothes and wear short hair. The author does not identify with being male, did not stay in the small southern town that suffocated her, and her fears of "dying alone like Roy did" feel pretty unfounded. I also really appreciate the delicate way the author traversed the question of whether or not Roy would have used male pronouns, if given the choice. I have quite a few queer ancestors that presented themselves in a gender-fluid way to the greater world, and I feel very tender about not imposing pronouns on them posthumously, without knowing what was true in their hearts. This book was quite a ride and I'm grateful to have gone on it.