WHAT IN THE WORLD. I am truly not (yet? ever?) ready to say anything smart about this one. Heavy is the sort of memoir that you don't feel "done" with, even after reaching the last page, and it strips away the notion that you will find words anywhere close to as precise as the author's.

For me, there are few books that get difficult, dependent parent-child relationships so RIGHT that every other paragraph has my jaw on the floor. I felt this way last year with [b:A Place for Us|36840397|A Place for Us|Fatima Farheen Mirza|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1517006183s/36840397.jpg|56945150], another book that is (in large part) about the delayed coming-of-age stories of POC children who are expected to carry themselves as adults long before their time. Kiese Laymon's grace with addressing this experience, the legacy of American racism in his Southern and Northern communities, and the bodily repercussions that have come out of it, is something I've never seen before.

He is a true southerner, in that his respect for his elders shines through every page of this memoir. He is also a true millennial, part of a generation that loves our relatives too much to not explore the trauma we’ve experienced under their care. He shows that respect can also ask questions, that loyalty can inspire you to seek the truth, and that all of this is nowhere near enough, but sometimes all we have. I rooted for everyone in this book, no matter how much difficult information he shared—maybe *because* he was able to share his love for and challenges with his kin, without calling either a lie.

I can't entirely explain how important this was to me right now, but I'm sure most everyone who reads it will know exactly what I mean.