Nothing here has value except her own doubled-down commitment to it—there’s a kind of nobility in deciding to hold onto the nothing that you have.

Failure To Comply is a manifesto of trans resilience, of choosing to live in an ungoverned body.

As hearing tests and various attempts at treatment consume her life, the narrator seems removed from time, set apart from it.

Kravetz’s gift is his ability to transcend the rawness of that ache and to suss out the nascent embers of an alternative New England.

Above all, Someone Who Isn’t Me yearns to sound a pure, clear note. The note is life, “as if our bodies are expensive stereos and life was a song that lasted only as long as we could hear it.”

All of it combines — maybe it was never separated — the language the character the narration, me, the reader, the world in which we read this.