book review: “Priestdaddy”, by Patricia Lockwood

man i don’t know that i can actually write the review i want to write? it’s one of the many weird things about having a dead dad, that talking about the things i wish were different about my dad feels like a betrayal. so — who knows. one day i’ll write a proper review! in the mean time: i liked this. it was good. the push/pull of life in the church (specifically) and the patriarchy (more generally) was — i wasn’t catholic but some of this was real familiar.

i will say — it was weird to see some of the sorts of things my parents would do but talked about with affection instead of frustration/hurt/anger. is lockwood a better person than i am? am i just uniquely irretrievably fucked up? is it different and i’m just constantly in need of reassurance because of abuse? yes to all of them?

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