Oh, this book. This book bruised my heart in so many ways, but what's telling, to me, is that despite how frightening and sad 98% of this book was, the only part that made me cry was the epilogue, which (no spoilers) ends the story on a note that's hopeful and triumphant.
In the author's note, Oakes (who I'm a huge fan of; The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly is a book that's stayed with me for a long, long time, and which I reread this year!) says that this is a story that's been with her for many years. It's scary, and remarkably prescient, that in those years, the world described in this book has become even more plausible. And in that world, Oakes's criticisms are scathing and many: the blaming of global-warming related disasters on the existence of LGBTQ+ people, rather than on the people at the very top who are actually responsible, doesn't feel all that far-fetched in a world where far-right politicians can say pretty much whatever ridiculous, unfounded thing that pops into their heads and be praised for it. A future in which an algorithm sees, knows, and controls all feels more and more real every day. Oakes's cleverest turn, in this dystopia-adjacent world, is in her decision to make the official law of this land that there is no more organized religion or racism...except that the "non-religious" holidays still celebrated mirror Christianity in many ways, and the "post-racial" world is only possible because non-white people are expected to conform to norms of whiteness. This so easily could have been a religious dystopia like the one in The Handmaid's Tale, especially since conventions such as strict "traditional" gender roles and purity culture are rampant; but Oakes's decision to make this world more quiet and sinister in its control was, in my opinion, extremely smart.
At its heart, though, this is a novel about what happens to us when we grow up believing that something essential about us—something that, if you'll forgive the reference, we can't change even if we tried or wanted to—is deeply, grossly wrong. Some characters are defiant in the face of what they're told. Some conform completely. All are, in some way, worn down by these teachings, and none are left unscathed by them. And I think any queer person of any stripe, reading this, will find something that resonates, because, hey, this isn't so different from how some parts of society think of us still, and we aren't unscathed by it, either. So ultimately, yes, this was a difficult read, and one that got under my skin; but also, I believe, an important and ultimately hopeful book.