At Certain Points We Touch” is a very impressive debut—the writing seems like it could only have been written by a very experienced writer. You know from the start that it is building towards Thomas James' death, and you really understand how the narrator wants to hold off getting there and telling a death they weren't there for as much as they want to unfold the story. The book is also a knowing wink towards writing and autofiction, considering what is memory and story even when something is meant to be 'what happened', but this is combined with exploits and community and stumbling into things whilst young in ways that stop it just feeling like a book about writing a book. All of which was to say, the emotional heart of this novel I understood more than I felt. I didn’t blame the heroine for her terrible taste in men, but I felt I zero connection to either the terrible Thomas James or the less-terrible Adam who provide the corners of this nasty little love triangle. And, of course, maybe that was the point: this is, after all, a story Bibby is narrating and better for it to be about her than the two basic cis men in her life, but I think with them never feeling quite real, it impacted the realness of Bibby too. I didn’t want you ever to think you had won me, that it was all in the bag. And I was more aware that for you, the thrill was in the kill, not the feast. In that way, at least we were both very alike”. I crash into my apartment, drop my coat to the floor and skitter, still drunk, towards the kitchen table. I know that I have to begin right here and now, at 5.15 a.m., at least to make a start, if I am to ever to crawl up out of this perdition. With a clean sweep of my right hand I clear a mess of mail and half-read magazines from the tabletop, grab for my computer with my left, and began to write.

A debut that lies in the gutter while looking up at the stars, with moving, if sometimes overindulgent, results. JJ was a transgender performer and writer. He describes a hapless dalliance with a gorgeous lover (first love) from London.I do not think this books is “for everyone” but of those of us who this is a good fit, it feels like we were meant to read it. Or perhaps this fell into my lap at just the exact right time; who's to say? I was pleased to see mention of Ocean Vuong around the 85% mark because there are so many things about At Certain Points We Touch that reminded me of Vuong’s work. The poetic pros, the intense (at times graphic) imagery, the commitment to memorialized past, and even the narrative structure. I am convinced that any fans of Vuong’s On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous will find a new favorite here. When did you know you were dead? I’m asking you a question that I know you can never answer. It is now ten years since we met, six years since we last spoke, four years since your death, and I’m writing you this from Mexico City, under grave obligation. It is not a letter, since I know you cannot reply; maybe it’s another monologue, certainly it does not require a second choice; let’s call it plainsong then. This is the chant recalling your life, it is fiction, it is biography, it is transfiguration”. At Certain Points We Touch is a novel about remembering the past, doomed love, and a millennial stumble through friendship and cities, as a writer tries to tell the story of their dead lover. A trans writer living in Mexico realises that it is the anniversary of the death of a man they loved, and starts to write the story of them, together and apart, and the messy, toxic, desperate affair they had.

I do like to think, however, I’d have recognised the voice. Because there is something about Lauren John Joseph that has always resonated with me: a combination of superficial similarities—like being born in the north and (over)educated in the south—coupled with their profound capacity to articulate queerness, a sense of queerness, that feels both specific and universal. In one of those “queer circles are too small” moments, it turns out I’m actually reasonably familiar with the work of this author, having seen them in performance several times over the years. But I didn’t actually connect their name with their previous stage name because I’m an idiot. I found the author unable to covey why this particular man was so addictive to the central character, which kind of undermined the story as it just wasn't believable.AN OBSERVER BEST DEBUT NOVEL OF THE YEAR * AN ESQUIRE BEST BOOK OF 2022 * A STYLIST BOOK YOU CAN'T MISS IN 2022 Despite this, I loved the author's writing. Her prose is tender and lyrical, yet also raw and unflinching as it jumps between love and pain, living and grieving, memory and the fleeting nature of time. I felt totally immersed in the bohemian settings of London and New York and queer culture. My knowledge and understanding of the LGBT+ community is fairly limited to my own experiences, and this definitely felt like an important and poignant look into queer experiences as I try to diversify my reading.