It feels wrong to use the word "enjoyed" of a memoir of queer domestic abuse but I loved the writing and the framing of her experience through the lens of an exhaustive array of genres. It's as if she's holding it up to the light, to make sense of what was happening to her in the absence of a ready frame of reference. Does this lessen the emotional impact? Possibly. It's awful she endured the abuse. I'm glad she could make this book of it.