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Boys Bars Becoming
217 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 31, 2026
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Review of advance copy received from Author
I read this book leaning forward. Smith isn’t a clinician and doesn’t pretend to be, but he’s written one of the more honest accountings of a self I’ve encountered, part confession, part inventory, part love letter to the rooms that made him.
What he refuses to do is let the story stay tidy. The Yacht Club was salvation and a room that barely tolerated the trans woman at the bar. His father’s death was grief and relief. The community that saved him was also a place where he installed the same gatekeeping list the outside world had used to keep him out. He holds both, without collapsing into either. As a gay man who has spent years trying to learn that particular move, I recognized it immediately, and I recognized how rare it is to see it done this cleanly on a page.
The essay that will stay with me longest is “I’m Not Superman.” Smith gets a voice note from a man whose unmanaged softness makes his own face react before his mind can: brow furrowed, lip curled. He blocks the man and then writes the essay about why. The voice sounded like a version of himself he’d trained out at twenty-one, and the reflex wasn’t disgust. It was self-recognition wearing disgust’s costume. He layers on a dinner where he policed his boyfriend’s laugh with a restaurant full of strangers’ eyes, hiding his own expressive hands under the table, while being, as he notes, the bottom in the relationship. I’ve felt the shape of that reflex in my own chest. I have never seen someone describe it this accurately, or refuse to soften it.
What Smith gets right about masking is the part I wasn’t prepared for. He writes about “the character I built to survive” — the dropped pitch, the slowed speech, the controlling of softness before it could surface and give him away — not as pathology but as a technology built for good reasons that then outlived its usefulness. I know that scaffolding. A lot of us do. The boys we were assembled it in locker rooms we weren’t safe in, and nobody ever gave us instructions for taking it down.
“Animal Rescue” is the piece that wrecked me. Smith is introduced to his dying partner’s family as “the guy from animal rescue” because Don wasn’t out to them, makes calls from Don’s phone through 417 contacts, times the decision to remove life support so that “by morning it would already be last year,” and finally cries in a Jack in the Box drive-through over cheddar poppers on New Year’s Day. That’s disenfranchised grief rendered as a single scene, the grief that has nowhere sanctioned to go, so it goes to the drive-through. Every gay man of a certain age knows someone whose mourning had to happen in a car.
A few flags. Smith’s one-line-paragraph rhythm becomes visible as a rhythm about two-thirds through, and some of the quieter essays would have held more with a longer breath. He’s also operating from considerable privilege inside the community he’s critiquing; white, cis, straight-passing, eventually gym-built. And while he names it and lets it cost him on the page, a reader who needed him to sit in it longer would have a fair case.
What the book finally gave me is harder to name. The through-line I kept catching is the one about the accidental, the hoping in the dark, the dollar drink, the willingness to walk into a room before you’ve decided what’s going to happen there. Smith grieves it as something the apps quietly took from us, and he’s right, but he’s also arguing it’s still available if we’re willing to leave the door unlocked. That’s the line the book turns on, and it’s the one I’m still carrying around. Not as nostalgia for a bar in New Jersey I never went to, but as a description of the posture that makes any real encounter possible in the first place.
Smith ends by admitting he hasn’t arrived, he’s just unearthed a new set of lies to work on. That honesty is what earns the rest. I came out of it thinking about my own locked doors, my own curated peace, and the specific trained-out softness I still sometimes catch myself managing before anyone can see it.
He didn’t give me answers. He gave me company, the older guy at the end of the bar I needed to see had made it, and was okay, and was still leaving the door open.
Which, it turns out, is the whole thing.
What he refuses to do is let the story stay tidy. The Yacht Club was salvation and a room that barely tolerated the trans woman at the bar. His father’s death was grief and relief. The community that saved him was also a place where he installed the same gatekeeping list the outside world had used to keep him out. He holds both, without collapsing into either. As a gay man who has spent years trying to learn that particular move, I recognized it immediately, and I recognized how rare it is to see it done this cleanly on a page.
The essay that will stay with me longest is “I’m Not Superman.” Smith gets a voice note from a man whose unmanaged softness makes his own face react before his mind can: brow furrowed, lip curled. He blocks the man and then writes the essay about why. The voice sounded like a version of himself he’d trained out at twenty-one, and the reflex wasn’t disgust. It was self-recognition wearing disgust’s costume. He layers on a dinner where he policed his boyfriend’s laugh with a restaurant full of strangers’ eyes, hiding his own expressive hands under the table, while being, as he notes, the bottom in the relationship. I’ve felt the shape of that reflex in my own chest. I have never seen someone describe it this accurately, or refuse to soften it.
What Smith gets right about masking is the part I wasn’t prepared for. He writes about “the character I built to survive” — the dropped pitch, the slowed speech, the controlling of softness before it could surface and give him away — not as pathology but as a technology built for good reasons that then outlived its usefulness. I know that scaffolding. A lot of us do. The boys we were assembled it in locker rooms we weren’t safe in, and nobody ever gave us instructions for taking it down.
“Animal Rescue” is the piece that wrecked me. Smith is introduced to his dying partner’s family as “the guy from animal rescue” because Don wasn’t out to them, makes calls from Don’s phone through 417 contacts, times the decision to remove life support so that “by morning it would already be last year,” and finally cries in a Jack in the Box drive-through over cheddar poppers on New Year’s Day. That’s disenfranchised grief rendered as a single scene, the grief that has nowhere sanctioned to go, so it goes to the drive-through. Every gay man of a certain age knows someone whose mourning had to happen in a car.
A few flags. Smith’s one-line-paragraph rhythm becomes visible as a rhythm about two-thirds through, and some of the quieter essays would have held more with a longer breath. He’s also operating from considerable privilege inside the community he’s critiquing; white, cis, straight-passing, eventually gym-built. And while he names it and lets it cost him on the page, a reader who needed him to sit in it longer would have a fair case.
What the book finally gave me is harder to name. The through-line I kept catching is the one about the accidental, the hoping in the dark, the dollar drink, the willingness to walk into a room before you’ve decided what’s going to happen there. Smith grieves it as something the apps quietly took from us, and he’s right, but he’s also arguing it’s still available if we’re willing to leave the door unlocked. That’s the line the book turns on, and it’s the one I’m still carrying around. Not as nostalgia for a bar in New Jersey I never went to, but as a description of the posture that makes any real encounter possible in the first place.
Smith ends by admitting he hasn’t arrived, he’s just unearthed a new set of lies to work on. That honesty is what earns the rest. I came out of it thinking about my own locked doors, my own curated peace, and the specific trained-out softness I still sometimes catch myself managing before anyone can see it.
He didn’t give me answers. He gave me company, the older guy at the end of the bar I needed to see had made it, and was okay, and was still leaving the door open.
Which, it turns out, is the whole thing.
Review of advance copy received from Author
Boys
Bars
Becoming
By Hucky Smith
Reviewed by Wes Davis -I was privileged to receive an Advanced Reader Copy.
This book is one that everyone should read, not just Gay men. The author shares his life journey through honest and sometimes painful memories. Smith uses narration that is both cinematic and real. He lays bare the realities he faced as, like most Gay men, he faced the gut-wrenching process of coming out. His life journey is laid out before the reader in an honest, no-holds-barred approach. We watch as he faces the reality of leaving home at 14 due to physical abuse by his father. His mother is incapable of understanding or preventing the abuse. Those factors affect him in ways that it takes a lifetime to understand. His journey is no different from that of anyone who suffered abuse at the hands of their parents.
Smith also delves into the best parts of the Gay community. The acceptance he felt when he finally had the courage to walk into a local Gay bar. The only place he could become the man that he knew he was. As we watch the transformation, we also see the dichotomy in the Gay community. He addresses the not-so-hidden discrimination within the Gay community. How the community at that time (and, I would say, now as well) can also show bias and discrimination toward some members. When the Stonewall Riots happened, those were led by Drag Queens. One was also a Trans Black woman, yet some within the Gay community will show a bias against drag queens, Trans, and non-whites. As Smith points out, your preference, i.e., your bias, is just an excuse to discriminate.
He also shows how the advent of social media has eroded the sense of community he experienced in bars. Apps like Grinder, Tinder, and others mean we no longer have to go to a bar to meet and interact with other people. Social media has been responsible for the siloing of society. The Gay community is no different than other sections, as Smith observes. Social media can be a blessing and a curse. It depends on how we use it and how much control we grant over our lives.
Smith also bravely addresses his HIV status in a way that is honest, but raw and very real. He talks about how others react to the news. It is clear-eyed, honest, and accurate. I wish it were not as he described. But it is. However, it does not tell the whole story. Anyone today who is sexually active should be using precautions. It is not just the responsibility of those who test positive; it is equally the responsibility of both parties. People who have not tested positive yet may be infected and transmit the disease without knowing it. It is one of those biases that he talks about. HIV is not a judgment; it is a disease. I sincerely hope that the gay community and the world understand that. Biases run deep. It takes a long time to overcome them. Smith’s journey is one that we can see, and in that, we also see ourselves. Some of my favorite passages are:
“Friends compliment us. They don't complete us.”
We are all complete as we are. We may wish to change, as Smith does in his journey, but it is not accomplished by finding others to complete us.
On whether being Gay is a choice.
“I'm not ashamed of who I am. I want to be precise about that because the rest of this essay requires you to hold that as true. But I know what this life cost. The bashing. The legal invisibility. The second-class citizenship that dressed itself up as tolerance on good days and barely concealed contempt on the rest.
Who would choose this? “ Wise words to remember.
There are many more memorable passages. But I will let you discover which ones speak to you. I highly recommend that you read this book.
Wes Davis
Bars
Becoming
By Hucky Smith
Reviewed by Wes Davis -I was privileged to receive an Advanced Reader Copy.
This book is one that everyone should read, not just Gay men. The author shares his life journey through honest and sometimes painful memories. Smith uses narration that is both cinematic and real. He lays bare the realities he faced as, like most Gay men, he faced the gut-wrenching process of coming out. His life journey is laid out before the reader in an honest, no-holds-barred approach. We watch as he faces the reality of leaving home at 14 due to physical abuse by his father. His mother is incapable of understanding or preventing the abuse. Those factors affect him in ways that it takes a lifetime to understand. His journey is no different from that of anyone who suffered abuse at the hands of their parents.
Smith also delves into the best parts of the Gay community. The acceptance he felt when he finally had the courage to walk into a local Gay bar. The only place he could become the man that he knew he was. As we watch the transformation, we also see the dichotomy in the Gay community. He addresses the not-so-hidden discrimination within the Gay community. How the community at that time (and, I would say, now as well) can also show bias and discrimination toward some members. When the Stonewall Riots happened, those were led by Drag Queens. One was also a Trans Black woman, yet some within the Gay community will show a bias against drag queens, Trans, and non-whites. As Smith points out, your preference, i.e., your bias, is just an excuse to discriminate.
He also shows how the advent of social media has eroded the sense of community he experienced in bars. Apps like Grinder, Tinder, and others mean we no longer have to go to a bar to meet and interact with other people. Social media has been responsible for the siloing of society. The Gay community is no different than other sections, as Smith observes. Social media can be a blessing and a curse. It depends on how we use it and how much control we grant over our lives.
Smith also bravely addresses his HIV status in a way that is honest, but raw and very real. He talks about how others react to the news. It is clear-eyed, honest, and accurate. I wish it were not as he described. But it is. However, it does not tell the whole story. Anyone today who is sexually active should be using precautions. It is not just the responsibility of those who test positive; it is equally the responsibility of both parties. People who have not tested positive yet may be infected and transmit the disease without knowing it. It is one of those biases that he talks about. HIV is not a judgment; it is a disease. I sincerely hope that the gay community and the world understand that. Biases run deep. It takes a long time to overcome them. Smith’s journey is one that we can see, and in that, we also see ourselves. Some of my favorite passages are:
“Friends compliment us. They don't complete us.”
We are all complete as we are. We may wish to change, as Smith does in his journey, but it is not accomplished by finding others to complete us.
On whether being Gay is a choice.
“I'm not ashamed of who I am. I want to be precise about that because the rest of this essay requires you to hold that as true. But I know what this life cost. The bashing. The legal invisibility. The second-class citizenship that dressed itself up as tolerance on good days and barely concealed contempt on the rest.
Who would choose this? “ Wise words to remember.
There are many more memorable passages. But I will let you discover which ones speak to you. I highly recommend that you read this book.
Wes Davis
April 16, 2026
Boys Bars Becoming is one of those books that makes you feel like someone finally said the thing out loud.
There's a kind of honesty in this book that isn't interested in cleaning anything up for the reader. Huck lets contradictions stay contradictions. The community that saved him was also the place where he learned to manage himself before anyone else could. He knows both of those things are true and he doesn't try to pick one.
What stayed with me is the way he writes about the version of himself he built in order to survive. The voice he learned to drop, just slightly. The posture he learned to stiffen. The choreography of passing, of seeming unremarkable. A lot of us learned some version of that early and never got instructions for how to stop. Seeing it described this clearly on a page felt rare.
The essays that wrecked me: April First. The blue suitcase and the $303 and choosing to leave instead of the other thing. That is one of the bravest pieces of writing I have ever read. Animal Rescue, which starts as a love story at a dog rescue and ends with a man making the worst phone call of his life in a hospital room, and grief with no place to go ending up at a Jack in the Box drive through over cheddar poppers on New Year's Day. Who Would You Call, which opens with him sobbing on a curb outside an emergency vet, scrolling through a thousand contacts, and realizing the list of people he can actually call is almost empty. That one sat in my chest for days.
And Second Line. I know what that cost him to write. Coming out happens every time, he says. Every new man, every new conversation, a new moment where you decide when to hand it over and watch his face. Somebody is going to read that essay and feel less alone, and he knows that's why he wrote it.
But it's not all heavy. Chelsea and Bobby is one of the funniest things I've read in years. Stroller Meat. The Labubu in the forbidden room. He builds this entire fantasy of suburban dad chaos and then pulls the rug out from under you so quietly you don't realize what happened until you're sitting there thinking about a life someone grieved without ever having it. Butch Popped a Boner is a perfect short story disguised as an essay. The Nikolai saga is genuinely insane and I would watch that movie. The Gary essay is everything a friendship essay should be. The green condom. Chainsaw Mouth moving in one bag at a time. The flat earth intervention. Thirty years and one fistfight and it was over by morning.
Hucky can be hilarious, completely disarming, and then two pages later he's writing something that takes the air out of the room.
So much of this I relate to personally. And so much of it people are going to relate to and learn from and laugh at and be moved by. The experiences are rooted in a particular world, but the deeper story is about how anyone learns who they are in public, what they hide to stay safe, and what it costs to carry that forward. You don't have to be gay to recognize yourself in these pages. You just have to have survived becoming who you are.
I finished this book feeling like someone had turned around and said, you're not the only one still figuring this out.
And Huck is such a great storyteller. The whole thing feels like you're sitting across the table from him or next to him at a bar and he's telling it to you in person.
The voice is his from the first page to the last. Nobody else could have written this book. I can’t think of a better compliment.
There's a kind of honesty in this book that isn't interested in cleaning anything up for the reader. Huck lets contradictions stay contradictions. The community that saved him was also the place where he learned to manage himself before anyone else could. He knows both of those things are true and he doesn't try to pick one.
What stayed with me is the way he writes about the version of himself he built in order to survive. The voice he learned to drop, just slightly. The posture he learned to stiffen. The choreography of passing, of seeming unremarkable. A lot of us learned some version of that early and never got instructions for how to stop. Seeing it described this clearly on a page felt rare.
The essays that wrecked me: April First. The blue suitcase and the $303 and choosing to leave instead of the other thing. That is one of the bravest pieces of writing I have ever read. Animal Rescue, which starts as a love story at a dog rescue and ends with a man making the worst phone call of his life in a hospital room, and grief with no place to go ending up at a Jack in the Box drive through over cheddar poppers on New Year's Day. Who Would You Call, which opens with him sobbing on a curb outside an emergency vet, scrolling through a thousand contacts, and realizing the list of people he can actually call is almost empty. That one sat in my chest for days.
And Second Line. I know what that cost him to write. Coming out happens every time, he says. Every new man, every new conversation, a new moment where you decide when to hand it over and watch his face. Somebody is going to read that essay and feel less alone, and he knows that's why he wrote it.
But it's not all heavy. Chelsea and Bobby is one of the funniest things I've read in years. Stroller Meat. The Labubu in the forbidden room. He builds this entire fantasy of suburban dad chaos and then pulls the rug out from under you so quietly you don't realize what happened until you're sitting there thinking about a life someone grieved without ever having it. Butch Popped a Boner is a perfect short story disguised as an essay. The Nikolai saga is genuinely insane and I would watch that movie. The Gary essay is everything a friendship essay should be. The green condom. Chainsaw Mouth moving in one bag at a time. The flat earth intervention. Thirty years and one fistfight and it was over by morning.
Hucky can be hilarious, completely disarming, and then two pages later he's writing something that takes the air out of the room.
So much of this I relate to personally. And so much of it people are going to relate to and learn from and laugh at and be moved by. The experiences are rooted in a particular world, but the deeper story is about how anyone learns who they are in public, what they hide to stay safe, and what it costs to carry that forward. You don't have to be gay to recognize yourself in these pages. You just have to have survived becoming who you are.
I finished this book feeling like someone had turned around and said, you're not the only one still figuring this out.
And Huck is such a great storyteller. The whole thing feels like you're sitting across the table from him or next to him at a bar and he's telling it to you in person.
The voice is his from the first page to the last. Nobody else could have written this book. I can’t think of a better compliment.
Review of advance copy received from Author
If you follow Huck Smith on Instagram, you already know he is an insightful, introspective, authentic, relatable, and often ironically funny storyteller. In writing, he follows suite. As Huck notes, he’s human first, gay second.
“Boys Bars Becoming”, his memoir of essays (grouped in themed sections), is a open-hearted mix of those identities. Yes, he takes on more, but no spoilers. A punctuated style that blends stories with observations, makes for a fluid read. I always wanted more, so readily turned each page.
I am twenty years older than Huck, so I was saddened to read that growing up, coming out, and entering the gay “scene” was no easier. I believe this happened because we lost a generation of out mentors. In Huck, we may have found one for these times.
His observations on body image, fitting in (or coming to terms with not fitting in), and dating will resonate with anyone, but in particular other gay men. His foibles and regrets are balanced, so even the most heart-wrenching aspects about his life give us a sliver of hope. If only that, “Yes brother, I can relate. Good to know that I’m not the only one.”
A dive into his parental relationships will resonate with all of us. He knows and acutely reports that those dad / mom connections (especially disconnections and sometimes outright abuse) are what shape our lives. I loved the essay where his current self tells his teenage self how it all turns out. His remembrance of the last time he stayed out until 4am and how that changes for those of us 50 and older is classic.
Huck has written an emotionally charged collection of essays about being both an older gay man and a human (and maybe a super hero). He also has a terrific voice. Let’s hope for an audio version.
“Boys Bars Becoming”, his memoir of essays (grouped in themed sections), is a open-hearted mix of those identities. Yes, he takes on more, but no spoilers. A punctuated style that blends stories with observations, makes for a fluid read. I always wanted more, so readily turned each page.
I am twenty years older than Huck, so I was saddened to read that growing up, coming out, and entering the gay “scene” was no easier. I believe this happened because we lost a generation of out mentors. In Huck, we may have found one for these times.
His observations on body image, fitting in (or coming to terms with not fitting in), and dating will resonate with anyone, but in particular other gay men. His foibles and regrets are balanced, so even the most heart-wrenching aspects about his life give us a sliver of hope. If only that, “Yes brother, I can relate. Good to know that I’m not the only one.”
A dive into his parental relationships will resonate with all of us. He knows and acutely reports that those dad / mom connections (especially disconnections and sometimes outright abuse) are what shape our lives. I loved the essay where his current self tells his teenage self how it all turns out. His remembrance of the last time he stayed out until 4am and how that changes for those of us 50 and older is classic.
Huck has written an emotionally charged collection of essays about being both an older gay man and a human (and maybe a super hero). He also has a terrific voice. Let’s hope for an audio version.
Review of advance copy received from Author
Huck Smith doesn’t write the kind of gay memoir that flatters you. He writes the kind that makes you sit with what you cost people. What you let slip. What you told yourself was fine when it wasn’t. There are chapters in here that will find you in specific places, about the friendships that quietly shifted while you were looking somewhere else, about being available and consistent and there when needed, but not necessarily chosen. If you’ve ever been on either side of that equation, you’ll feel it somewhere you weren’t expecting.
The whole book is built around one question nobody in our community asks out loud: who are you underneath the character you built to survive? Not the armor. Not the adjusted voice and the controlled glance and the choreography of passing. The actual person. Because at some point the mask and the face fused, and most of us stopped being able to find the seam.
He doesn’t have a clean answer. Neither do I. I think this book is worth the weight of not having one.
But I leave you with a warning, because gay men don't always like when someone holds a mirror up and asks them to look.
This book is a mirror.
And what you will see can't be un-seen.
The whole book is built around one question nobody in our community asks out loud: who are you underneath the character you built to survive? Not the armor. Not the adjusted voice and the controlled glance and the choreography of passing. The actual person. Because at some point the mask and the face fused, and most of us stopped being able to find the seam.
He doesn’t have a clean answer. Neither do I. I think this book is worth the weight of not having one.
But I leave you with a warning, because gay men don't always like when someone holds a mirror up and asks them to look.
This book is a mirror.
And what you will see can't be un-seen.
Review of advance copy received from Author
This isn’t a book you rush through.
It’s the kind you find yourself pausing, rereading, and thinking about longer than you expect. Not because it’s complicated, but because it’s uncomfortably clear.
There’s a voice here that isn’t trying to impress you. It’s not explaining itself, and it’s definitely not asking for permission. It just tells the truth as it sees it about desire, about performance, and the quiet negotiations we make with ourselves in order to be wanted.
What really works is how specific it feels without ever being small. Bars, late nights, people figuring themselves out in real time, all of it builds into something much bigger. It becomes about how we learn to choose, how we learn to be chosen, and what gets lost when we start confusing the two.
There’s also a restraint here that I respect. It doesn’t try to wrap everything up. It just lays things out and lets you sit with them, which is harder to do than it sounds.
I’m still making my way through it, but it already feels like one of those books people will see themselves in. Not always comfortably. But honestly.
And that’s the kind of book that sticks.
It’s the kind you find yourself pausing, rereading, and thinking about longer than you expect. Not because it’s complicated, but because it’s uncomfortably clear.
There’s a voice here that isn’t trying to impress you. It’s not explaining itself, and it’s definitely not asking for permission. It just tells the truth as it sees it about desire, about performance, and the quiet negotiations we make with ourselves in order to be wanted.
What really works is how specific it feels without ever being small. Bars, late nights, people figuring themselves out in real time, all of it builds into something much bigger. It becomes about how we learn to choose, how we learn to be chosen, and what gets lost when we start confusing the two.
There’s also a restraint here that I respect. It doesn’t try to wrap everything up. It just lays things out and lets you sit with them, which is harder to do than it sounds.
I’m still making my way through it, but it already feels like one of those books people will see themselves in. Not always comfortably. But honestly.
And that’s the kind of book that sticks.
Review of advance copy received from Author
I’m a straight woman in my thirties, this is not the type of book I would normally pick up. (I’m typically more of a mystery and thriller reader) This book completely exceeded any expectations, and I absolutely loved it. Once I started I could not put it down. What stood out most to me is that this isn’t just a story about being gay, it’s a story about being human first. Relationships, family dynamics, heartbreak, identity, love, and growing up are universal experiences, and I found myself relating to so much more than I ever expected.
The short story format made it engaging and personal, and the honesty throughout the book was what made it so powerful. I laughed, felt nostalgic, and cried after the letter to his mother. The photos added another layer that made everything feel even more real and intimate.
This book is genuine, heartfelt, and brave. Whether or not you think it’s “your kind of book,” it is sure to surprise you the way it surprised me. A beautiful reminder that we are all “human first.”
The short story format made it engaging and personal, and the honesty throughout the book was what made it so powerful. I laughed, felt nostalgic, and cried after the letter to his mother. The photos added another layer that made everything feel even more real and intimate.
This book is genuine, heartfelt, and brave. Whether or not you think it’s “your kind of book,” it is sure to surprise you the way it surprised me. A beautiful reminder that we are all “human first.”
Review of advance copy received from Author
Have you ever been a gay man who grew up in the 80s and 90s? Have you watched as a culture built up around bars and safe spaces decline? Where you choose your own family , if the one you have is not particularly great. Have we all had those unfulfilled relationships? Well most of us Gen X gay men have , but even if you are not a gay man growing up then , you can learn a lot of what it was like to do so , to see where we came from , what we had to deal with and how we took what we needed to survive and thrive as well. This memoir of essays does just that and I firmly believe anyone can relate to the subject or the book and get a window into time where simple first steps lead to wider paths of adult hook. Plenty of humor, sadness , and set to a four on the four thump that is still the heartbeat of the gay community today , highly recommended. I think you’ll love it !!
Review of advance copy
I would like to start out by saying this. This was a Epic read. I'm not saying that just to make someone like me. I could not put it down. The chapters was well written and they grabbed you and held your attention. Each chapter held you tighter then the last one. The writer actually made you feel what happened. I really like how it was said that " This book was wrote for you" I could identify with the feelings. The reason why I could was because most everything that happen I have had to live through myself. I remember the sticky floors and how you had to build walls to protect yourself. I have to give this book 5 stars because I have hardly ever read a book more then 5 times over. This is a book that truly makes you understand and feel what you are reading. I can not praise the author enough. Thank you so much for writing this.
Review of advance copy received from Author
First off, let me say thank you for reaching out to me and asking me to read this book in advance of its publication - this has been truly an honor.
A collection of essays is not typically something in my typical TBR, but something told me to take a chance here, and I am ever so glad that I did. By discussing his own adventures as a gay man, Huck Smith has told a story that everyone, of every generation, can relate to in so many ways. Whether you are in the generation that came before and is coming after, the raw emotion and honesty are there and relatable. I saw myself in many of his essays, highlighting moments on my Kindle with the only annotation being "beautiful."
If you are debating reading this collection, please do so. Regardless of your background or identity, there is something in these pages for you to read.
A collection of essays is not typically something in my typical TBR, but something told me to take a chance here, and I am ever so glad that I did. By discussing his own adventures as a gay man, Huck Smith has told a story that everyone, of every generation, can relate to in so many ways. Whether you are in the generation that came before and is coming after, the raw emotion and honesty are there and relatable. I saw myself in many of his essays, highlighting moments on my Kindle with the only annotation being "beautiful."
If you are debating reading this collection, please do so. Regardless of your background or identity, there is something in these pages for you to read.
Review of advance copy received from Author
Honest, open, real. Huck Smith opened up and shared his stories of growing up and attempting to figure out who he is and how life affects you. His willingness to share life experiences had me questioning my own thoughts and outlook on life and relationships.
Having followed him for several years on various social media platforms, you can see the honesty in the writing. It all matches, what he says on a video post matches what's in the book.
This book will have you doing some serious reflection. Not everyone has the exact same experience, but we all have experiences. Huck is just honest and real enough to share his with the world.
Thank you Huck!
Having followed him for several years on various social media platforms, you can see the honesty in the writing. It all matches, what he says on a video post matches what's in the book.
This book will have you doing some serious reflection. Not everyone has the exact same experience, but we all have experiences. Huck is just honest and real enough to share his with the world.
Thank you Huck!
Review of advance copy received from Author
I was able to read this amazing book and be blessed to do a review on it . From the first page to the last many lol moments and moments of crying . Husky Smith truly wrote from his heart and soul in this book as a gay man coming out the same time he did in the 80s we did not have internet . You had to either go to a bar or look at personal ads in magazines. He nailed that part this book I would tell anyone gay you need to read it I felt like in some many chapters he was talking about me . Can’t wait to the next book .
Review of advance copy received from Author
Boys Bars Becoming provides a fascinating and personal insight into a world that many people either once knew intimately or never had the chance to experience at all. Huck Smith’s use of real-life stories and experiences makes the book feel authentic and deeply human, pulling the reader into both his journey and the culture surrounding it. The writing is engaging without feeling overly heavy, which made it an easy and enjoyable read. What stood out most was how the book reflects on change, identity, and community, giving readers a glimpse into both the past and the world we live in now.
Review of advance copy received from Author
This was an excellent collection of essays. I was so engrossed from the first page, and it made me feel like I was there, experiencing it all with him. A good story allows you to leave your reality behind while living through someone else's. This book does just that. I laughed and I cried. I'm also SO proud of Huck's "becoming," something we ALL experience at some point in our lives. 5 out of 5 for me. I've already recommended this to my friends!
Review of advance copy received from Author
This was a very heartfelt read. Huck really put it all out there, and I really connected with his stories. There is humor and sadness in the same essay, but these essays are truly honest and make you think. My biggest take from this book of essays is that throughout my life of hiding myself, I should have come out earlier because I was going to be okay; I wasn’t alone. I enjoyed this book thoroughly
Review of advance copy received from Author
Heartfelt and honest, made me appreciate my life by comparison. I'm old than the author, but have dealt with many of the same issues and growth. I highly recommend this book, sometimes not easy due to similar experiences, I think this book will be one I remember!
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