This book is messy, Maggie is messy, we're all messy. Maggie doesn't claim to know motherhood, but actively searches for how to fit such a role within one's ever fluid identity. She becomes a mother, just as she continues becoming a wife, a stepmother, a writer, a scholar with each sentence on the page. She has a special way of finding the role of love in sadness, confusion, crisis, identity, etc. that simply breaks and mends my heart. This is a beautiful ode to the queerness of self, relationships, and family; how to navigate change amidst permanence and love; and how to replace what craves replacing.
This is a story of finding. Of wanting. Of belonging. Of family, both found and chosen. Most of all, it is a funny, endearing, and touching. With a background of literary nods, and a skater punk "who gives a damn" aesthetic, I , a 40 something year old women, still found myself in these pages.
