Reading Nina Riggs‘ moving book after a brush with cancer last fall was, well, scary. Her story emerges as my memento mori, “remember, you must die,” but in a real and beautiful sense. Finding joy in every day is no longer trite. It is essential.

Not what I expected, but a compelling read. Prompts me to wonder, who am I, really? How much do I allow others judgments to dictate my life? Am I more “ normal” (or less?) than I believe myself to be? Does it matter? Am I Connell or Marianne? Bits of both?