Picked this up randomly and bawled for the entire last third of the book. I would put it down for a day, pick it back up for a chapter, sob uncontrollably. I adore that feeling, even though I’m hungover now. I cared for this narrator, for her friends, for all the joy, longing, fierce clumsiness, solidarity and heart in this novel. It follows Ro, a working class dyke who moves from Cork to Boston and discovers Provincetown and community. It’s funny, it’s warm, it’s raw. I miss them all already. I’m so grateful for all the fights and art made by queer generations through history. I love us.