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A review by zillanovikov
Read and Then Burn This by Ryszard I. Merey
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
Remember when you were 14 years old and you sat on the edge of your bed and put a new CD in your Walkman and your headphones over your ears and as you listened to the music you thought, "This musician has been here, inside my bedroom, inside my skull. They must have been here. They understand."
And then you got older and you weren't 14 anymore and that sense of wonder from someone who understands a part of yourself you'd never been able to articulate doesn't happen so often, and besides, most feelings are universal so what's the magic in someone perfectly encapsulating a sensation, a feeling, that everyone has anyway. It's not special. It's not about you, alone in your bedroom, wondering what it would look like to find a connection.
This book hit me like a burning dump truck.
There's a special kind of lonliness that's not queer specifically, anyone can feel it, but it hits the part of myself that doesn't know who I am and who anyone else is either, not in their entirety, not what it means to be an authentic self, to stop reaching for something perfect and bury white hands in the filth and squalor because it's better to feel unclean than nothing. Anything's better than being cold.
If you're queer, or lonely, or burning, read this
And then you got older and you weren't 14 anymore and that sense of wonder from someone who understands a part of yourself you'd never been able to articulate doesn't happen so often, and besides, most feelings are universal so what's the magic in someone perfectly encapsulating a sensation, a feeling, that everyone has anyway. It's not special. It's not about you, alone in your bedroom, wondering what it would look like to find a connection.
This book hit me like a burning dump truck.
There's a special kind of lonliness that's not queer specifically, anyone can feel it, but it hits the part of myself that doesn't know who I am and who anyone else is either, not in their entirety, not what it means to be an authentic self, to stop reaching for something perfect and bury white hands in the filth and squalor because it's better to feel unclean than nothing. Anything's better than being cold.
If you're queer, or lonely, or burning, read this