As a child, AJ Romriell strove to obey his Mormon leaders’ every rule. If he was faithful enough, he was taught, God would remove temptations. But at nineteen, returning home early from his mission after admitting his attraction to men, he was forced to make a decision: either stay the course or work to accept himself fully and risk losing family, community, and the Church he’d devoted his life to. His decision to pursue radical acceptance would turn out to be just one step toward reclaiming his life.
Through linked personal essays crafted in lyric, fabulist, and fragmented forms, Wolf Act charts a young man’s transformation. Weaving together wolfish fairy tales and mythology, Mormon theology and practice, piercings and tattoos, cave explorations, ghost stories, and more, Romriell explores a childhood of hiding, a familial reckoning, a religious exodus, and an effort to understand one’s life as worth saving—even when the meaning of the word “saving” must be reimagined.
AJ Romriell is a queer, neurodivergent, and HIV+ writer from Salt Lake City, Utah. He is the author of Wolf Act (2025), winner of Utah’s 2021 Original Writing Competition, and his essays, stories, and poems have appeared in Electric Literature, The Missouri Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Black Warrior Review, Brevity, and elsewhere. A graduate of The Ohio State University’s MFA program where he was a 2024–25 Presidential Fellow, he has received the Walter E. Dakin Fellowship from the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, multiple grants from the Greater Columbus Arts Council, and Pushcart Prize nominations in both creative nonfiction and poetry. Find more at ajromriell.com.
I have been lucky enough to read this in advance. These essays are vulnerable, well crafted, and deeply honest. Beautiful, beautiful commentaries on performance, identity, and shame. Five stars.
was excited for the subject matter but this was a slog. i understand - you wouldn’t read i am malala and say this chick needs to lighten up. i knew it’d be back to back mini essays about being a closeted gay mormon and feeling ostracized and shamed in ur bones on a primal helpless level. but the writing itself is mostly tonnsssss of overloaded metaphors and each one’s beat to death - a cave hike anecdote is interwoven so he can compare it to his journey in various cliche ways (darkness/erosion/beauty); also compares his depression to hurricane andrew using the quotes of real victims (his names andrew so that felt…on the nose and exploitative). heavy on that redundant, immature, obvious visual poetry. the author did an amazing job of purging their pain to reveal societal evils, wringing out a few micro moments like a wet rag. you deeply feel his angst, and how it’s all he could think about - this massive secret all day every day for years and wishing it wasn’t true, the danger of ideals, so this all makes sense. exposing the church for the suicidal tendencies it inspires isn’t melodramatic, it’s necessary. the overly descriptive, solipsistic style just wasn’t for me. it’s only 350 pages but they didn’t go quick.
I read this book slowly and with an open heart and mind of someone who truly wants to understand. I felt myself wanting to reach out and hug the author. To tell him he’s come a long way and I’m proud of him. To support him and say it’s going to be ok. I found myself wanting to know what was next for him and cheering him on to find true love and happiness. This is a book I read at night and thought about the next morning. I highly recommend.
A raw, honest, and vulnerable look into the life of someone who had been told they were broken and unworthy for years, only for them to realize they were just waiting to live the life they were meant to. Beautiful & truthful.
This was an extremely fascinating read. Romriell is an excellent writer, with a very contemplative, poetic voice, and an excellent instinct - or perhaps skill - for crafting compelling memoirs. Or at least, it seemed that way to me; I don't read memoirs very often.
His story in particular resonates deeply with me though, in a lot of ways. I also grew up Mormon, and it was incredibly cathartic to see just how similarly he was affected by that environment. Not only to see how that upbringing toned the rest of his life, but even everything beyond it. My experience is, obviously, vastly different from his. But the way he tells his story feels so familiar. He captures that sense of uncertainty that everyone feels, I think. That fear of the unknown, of the self. Very heavy on the metaphor, and pretty heavy overall. But in my opinion it works well.
What stuck out to me above all, though, is his commentary on shame. Above all, my own upbringing in the Mormon church instilled the deepest, darkest sense of shame and self-hatred. It's comforting to know that I'm not alone in that and, more importantly, that there is more to life than that. I appreciate that Romriell didn't falsify anything. Didn't promise any happy ending through his story. Just... acceptance. The ability to move past that shame. Gradually. Carefully, and meaningfully, even if not quickly.