Part poetic memoir, part a long essay that considers how gender theory emerges from/ applies to /is lived on an everyday basis. The short chapters alternate snapshots of conversations and other social interactions, childhood and family memories, musings on gender and quite explicit sex scenes. I could not relate to all of the author's concerns about butchness/femmness and femininity, perhaps because times have moved on, perhaps because of different experiences and identities. Some of the sex scenes were very hot, but others (or maybe their repetition) was not so interesting. T. really liked it, but I feel a bit ambivalent, or perhaps indifferent towards it.

On reflection, perhaps I don't really trust Pratt as a narrator. She comes across as quite preoccupied with being cool and 'woke', and perhaps not 100% sincere - a banal example: at times she talks about not dressing feminine and being judged for it, not having worn a skirt for decades; but then every single date they go on she's got revealing blouses and dresses and high heels. I don't mean to be overly inquisitive: maybe they are different phases in her life, maybe she doesn't owe us that kind of coherency, but somehow given that gender identity is the theme here, this confusion made me lose trust, and thus also interest. To be fair, I'm not in a period of great concentration or patience.