This book. It's difficult to articulate really...anything about this sublime fever dream. I don't want to say too much, because it's really one of those stories that is best left to stand on its own merit, but Ryan La Sala deserves at least some flowers here because wow. This book is summer dusk and pools of honey and pollen coating your tongue, and underneath it all there is a stinging sharpness that is ever present. La Sala's prose is unspeakably gorgeous, and Mars is the perfect narrator. I don't want to say anything else because I just want to continue holding this story close to my chest. It's a book that feels like a clandestine discovery, and everyone should experience that for themselves.