A story so good that it's a proper cause for celebration, for glasses raised, songs sung and serenades serenaded under balconies inspired by its loveliness. The kind of book I wish I had as a lost kid. A book to share with friends, about a different, yet equally valuable, way of finding yourself.

We’re only here for such a short time. We don’t have much time to do the things we have to do, and Ash doesn’t want remorse to be the central theme of their deathbed. Ash, such a moving non-binary character, won’t waste a second, want to make their every heartbeat count. The story unfolds in a thoughtful measured tempo but is fast-paced when it needs to be. An awful lot happens quite early in a frenzied cadence, quite true of life, as we follow Ash, easy to sympathize with, as they tumble through tumultuous feelings about things they value dearly, feeling time is running out. For Ash, who deeply loves nature, we can't put a price on forests and their immeasurable treasure of life. We can understand Ash's need to not be part of what's killing this treasure. In the wild, a mythical cabin beckons. And so, with the adorable dog Chase, they're outta here.

"Chase is only five years old and super strong, so I figure it might be a good idea to have him carry some stuff for us so we can bring more."

Wang introduces us to characters drawn with so much warmth that they become like our friends. Most of all, we feel a protective tenderness for Ash. And there are passages that feel profoundly universal, like they could be about all of us collectively. “If I’m going to live here long term, I need to make sure it continues to thrive. Our flourishing is mutual.” And “Surviving is the easy part. Feeling at peace in your heart is the hard part.” Ash searches for a way out, to contribute more, to save the cabin that's a soul asylum in the wild, to live a life that's about more than merely survival. It can't be about passively putting up with our unimaginative rigid version of civilization, can't be about bowing to unregulated industries harming and degrading nature outside and within us. Ash's love is too big to belong only to itself, and it's about that realization, that we can be part of something far bigger than ourselves, to belong to something as big as the world.

For me, growing up seeing wonder-filled rainforests and old forests in Europe wiped out, the desire to escape the lunacy of the adult world hits almost too close to home. It’s, in parts, a story about escaping hurt, the desperate need to find a refuge where you can, to find peace, recover your breath, safe from pain. But can Ash run away from their most hurtful memories? When we hurt others, it’s often because we didn’t stop and think whether this comes from having been wounded ourselves, and do we want to be that person? Ash is a sensitive person who is sick of the coldness and cruelty of hopeless isolationism that has no compassion outside its imaginary borders, sick of the cult of money that sees no value in unprofitable hearts pounding in forests. But if Ash finds a better place, how to come back?

My reviews, unlike my parties, tend to be of the rave kind. When I find a book I love, I’m suddenly the cookie monster discovering a cookie encyclopedia. Overusing words wear out their relevance, and hyperbole and superlatives lose truth if used lightly, but this book really is like top shelf cookies and those are not words to use flippantly. Thank you, Wang, for this topmost gift.