Chanel Miller writes beautifully, and I'm in awe of her courage in allowing herself to be so vulnerable, to draw herself as a messy, whole human in a world that demands victims be perfect. The strength of this book is in its focus; it doesn't try to be an educational manual on sexual assault. Instead it walks you unflinchingly through one woman's experience of sexual assault and the court system, and its power lies in the specificity and detail therein. It feels redundant to say that this is a gruelling read, that I wept throughout, that it's devastating and infuriating. But it's also a beautiful book, an ultimately hopeful book. It feels destined to be a classic, but hopefully only as a relic of how things used to be.