There are great empathetic discoveries to be made in both the words and spaces Tolbert creates in Gephyromania (the madness, perhaps from a few of crossing bridges--and yes, definitely a metaphor, not merely for the trans- community). They are subtle, often very intimate, and--on the surface--often casually displayed.

The narrative camera zooms in and pans wide abruptly, first offering an image of close physicality and awe, then snapping back to a diction of distance and obscurantism. This is often disorienting, and it can leave readers scratching heads at what one line has to do with the next. I found much of it, then, at its worst, perhaps too sybaritic, too self-indulgent in its confessionalism and leaving the reader behind to fend for themselves.

Nevertheless, what Tolbert leaves for the work as a whole is a nuanced portrait of an identity resistant to simplification and political label, one that risks pronouncement, and one just earnestly human. The tragedy is that this must be marked as a valid literary goal for the queer community. The praise for Tolbert I can offer is that he does not stop there.

And while I can admire the courage in the face of struggles he has lived, translating that onto a page, even with the gifted lines that pepper their way through this book, is still a different feat altogether.