This book is a follow-up to Daniel Black's "Don't Cry For Me," which is told from the POV of Isaac's father. I've not yet read that book (though I will be soon), but I never felt I was missing anything. In fact, I think it will be interesting to go back and read his father's letters after seeing how everything played out between the pages of this book.

 

This book begins after Isaac's father's death. Encouraged by his therapist to document his life story, Isaac embarks on a journey of reflection that takes him back to his roots. Through this process, he confronts the weight of generational pain, the expectations his family (in particular his father) placed upon him, and the cultural legacies that both shaped and constrained him. 

 

At its core, this is a story of self-discovery, resilience, and a quest to find where you belong. Isaac is a character who feels heartbreakingly real. He carries the burdens of toxic masculinity, stifled creativity, and the weight of societal expectations of what it means to "be a man" - burdens that many gay men of the era can relate to. 

 

As Isaac graduates and ventures out into the world and encounters other gay men like him, Black weaves Isaac's personal journey with other major events of the time. The AIDS crisis looms large in the narrative, casting a shadow of fear and loss over the gay community. For Isaac, just as he begins to embrace his true self and find a sense of community, the epidemic serves as a brutal reminder of the fragility of joy and the pervasive stigma that queer people endured. Similarly, the Rodney King beating and the subsequent racial tensions further underscore the harsh realities of systemic racism and an added layer of "otherness" that Isaac was made to feel.

 

For me, one of the most striking elements of the novel was the way it captured the inner emotional life of a queer man navigating an unforgiving world. Isaac's sensitivity, tenderness, and creative spirit are vividly portrayed, making him a character who feels achingly real. His struggle to claim his identity and find his place in a world that often rejects him is both deeply personal and universally relatable. There were moments when Isaac's experiences felt so eerily similar to my own that it was as though Daniel Black had peered into my childhood. I found myself deeply moved by Isaac's journey, often reflecting on how many of his struggles mirrored my own. Yet, while our experiences aligned in many ways, the added layer of Isaac's identity as a Black man highlights the intersectional challenges of racism and homophobia in ways that broadened my perspective. There was a lot to think about between these pages.

 

At just over 200 pages, this is a compact but potent book that grips readers from start to finish. Despite its brevity, the novel packs an emotional punch. I was so captivated by Isaac's story that I devoured the book in less than four hours, unable to tear myself away from his journey. A lot of this had to do with the fact that I also listened to an ALC of this while reading. JD Jackson is the perfect narrator for the audiobook. He captured all of the voices and emotions perfectly.

 

Overall, this is a beautifully crafted novel that will resonate deeply with anyone who has ever felt out of place in the world, but especially with gay men who grew up in an era marked by fear and rejection. It is a story of pain, resilience, and, ultimately, the transformative power of self-acceptance. If you're looking for a book that will move you, challenge you, and stay with you long after you've turned the last page, then this book is not to be missed.