Sometimes I think the more important a book is to you, the harder it is to discuss it. That’s true in terms of attempting some form of objectivity, but it’s also true for me in terms of simply…finding words that are able to hold all of your thoughts and emotions. 

I knew I’d enjoy Compound Fracture because overwhelmingly I enjoy Andrew’s work. I didn’t expect it to be like this. 

What I can say: White knows how to craft a tale that runs on pure adrenaline, dread, and rage, and Compound Fracture has a tank full of all three. The characters are complex and real in their imperfections. This is not a clean-cut book where queer identity is parsed out and celebrated in a shiny glittery extravaganza. It’s gritty and punk and complex and raw. It’s truthful to the experiences of so many southern queers that can’t afford to care if target has a pride collection or not. The portrayal of a bevvy of undiagnosed or self-diagnosed autistic adults as well as Miles’ own autism on the page is a straight-up gift to autistic people. It shows us at our best and worst, in all the ways we adapt to survive, and teach others to do the same, even when it hurts. Compound fracture faces head-on the lived experiences of a region the rest of the US straight up craps on without any sense of shame, and the people who have always always deserve better. Andrew explores poverty, politics, addiction, medical scarcity, corruption, a strapped education system, and faces head on the systemic injustice at the heart of all of it. He’s created a teenage character we believe can see with a clear eye all of these things, a leftist to root for even while we scream at the page DONT DO IT MILES THATS NOT GONNA BE GOOD, and honestly I think that’s beautiful. 

This book is going to stay with me for a while, for a lot of reasons that mean more to me than any other reader. Even with that being the case, trust me when I say it’s worth reading.