The flaming center here is Mengay's blazing style, a stream-of-consciousness gush studded with killer details—“the two of us press flesh to flesh, causing me to frot the horn in rhythmic beats, the sound intensifying on this barren spit below I-70”—wells of deep feeling, and reams of sharp-elbowed, unpunctuated dialogue that, in the briskest passages, offers a reprieve from the prevailing density. Mengay (author of The Lede to our Undoing) demonstrates a mastery of rowdy voices, in chatter and letters, sometimes offering scenes in script form.

But Ojo’s power comes from Mengay’s attention to the senses in scenes of home building, road tripping, boisterous get-togethers, earthy trysts (“Lips and beard abrade my skin, peel me like a tangerine”), and taking the dancefloor at a gay bar that’s like a “studded–and-buckled Araby of the west.” Especially moving is Mengay’s stripping away at the cast’s protective layers, revealing men who are wild and carefree with the narrator yet not free to be so in their everyday lives. Readers who relish uncompromising fiction of substance and ambition will find this wild, wise, and nourishing.

Takeaway: Incandescently written novel of growing up queer in 1980s New Mexico.

Comparable Titles: Ali Smith, Alan Hollinghurst.

Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-