It's a very self-conscious book, in a way that can be both frustrating and yet utterly beautiful. It does a very good job of capturing what it feels like to kind of just want to be your own thing, and yet to be entranced/entrapped by the systems we have in society - there's a particularly heartfelt moment as a writer where she talks about free verse versus formalism, and about how she appreciates the formal and yet expects that she might never write that way; and similarly, I feel, this is an underlying current about womanhood here. It's something I've been thinking about with relation to my own transness, to whatever extent that may be—I'm not interested in your idea about what it means to be non-binary; I'm interested in finding out how I am going to be myself. And yet, I can't help but return to how society views me, how I interact with society, how that decides or modulates (to whatever extent) what my desires are.
The book also emerges from this difficult questioning, the questioning of these sort of juxtaposed positions and the eternal soul-searching of what being a "good girl" or what being a good writer, etc. mean, into this beautiful ending section of a new hope and love. There's an earlier passage where Hood denies being a cynic, and I think it's beautiful that she ends the book here at a place where even in spite of it all we allow ourselves to hope, where we *choose* to hope and (after some meta-thought) *choose* to include that hope at the end of the book.