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Edgar’s autobiographical essays demonstrate how essential each of our voices are, no matter who we are. His writing is so courageous, funny, and touching, that I pity anyone who can’t relate to his observations about how complex individuals and relationships are.

His writing sure, his memories vivid, he walks us through a life filled with reprimands for he isn’t and little appreciation for who he is. How have we arrived to live in a world angry about who has sex with who, who loves who, who wears what, and who wants to do what with their own bodies?

He doesn’t merely tell us, he shows us how soul-crushing hypocrisy can be. It’s not enough when those close to us say they love us, yet scorn who we genuinely are.