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240 pages, Hardcover
First published July 15, 2025




I take storms down my throat and leave them empty, spent and aching.It's been a while since I read a work so mature and yet so indulgent. Cottagecore this and fairy tale retelling that, but give me the abject accepted and adjoined and then you truly have a fate worth recounting. Stepmothers, OCD, queer, all tied in the breed of bow that proves, once again, . Sure, I have a higher tolerance for the conjured viscera and penned massacre than the typical reader, especially when it is a matter of normal survival, not onanistic pathos. I also acknowledge how easily this narrative trellises itself on the closed system stakes of small town Americana in a whiteness that can handle said queer and said neuroatypicality but would be another, likely poorer, matter entirely if it took on anything else. However, the average rating is already low enough, so I'd best dive in to the unmitigated good before I founder my train of thought on the self reflexive.
This was an obvious lie, but I had to admire the drama. It made me wonder if he wasn't more fucked up than I gave him credit for.
I wondered if I’d finally made the greatest mistake of my young life. I hoped so. I was tired of things only getting worse.