I’ve heard great things about this book and wanted to like it but it feels so disjointed. Each chapter feels more like essays rather than a cohesive memoir.

This book sounded like Lockwood addressing religious trauma or what it was like having a priest for a father but all the stories are surface level. There’s always a joke or something that feels like it’s supposed to be “clever” but it’s not (for me at least) and almost tries too hard. The writing is also very strange, not only with the constant joking, but also the lyrical way of writing always using metaphors-which makes sense since Lockwood is a poet-but this made me bored and uninterested in the story. Maybe my expectations were too high but I’m clearly in the minority opinion of disliking the book.

She also defends her dad for being an absolute dick to her mom and makes it “quirky”instead of going deeper or exploring how it affected her. She obviously doesn’t owe us that, but then at least don’t make excuses for this man child