When four classmates from a small Massachusetts college move to New York to make their way, they’re broke, adrift, and buoyed only by their friendship and ambition. There is kind, handsome Willem, an aspiring actor; JB, a quick-witted, sometimes cruel Brooklyn-born painter seeking entry to the art world; Malcolm, a frustrated architect at a prominent firm; and withdrawn, brilliant, enigmatic Jude, who serves as their center of gravity.

Over the decades, their relationships deepen and darken, tinged by addiction, success, and pride. Yet their greatest challenge, each comes to realize, is Jude himself, by midlife a terrifyingly talented litigator yet an increasingly broken man, his mind and body scarred by an unspeakable childhood, and haunted by what he fears is a degree of trauma that he’ll not only be unable to overcome—but that will define his life forever.

I’ve owned this book since it came out ten years ago. At first, I didn’t read it because 720 pages is a whole lot of book, and I was in the middle of moving from Houston back to the Pacific Northwest. Then the hype started. The polarizing reviews rolled in. Some readers hailed it as a masterpiece. Others dismissed it as “trauma porn.” To say that people had strong opinions is an understatement. And honestly, that made me nervous. I didn’t want to be disappointed. I also didn’t want to feel like someone was capitalizing on queer pain for literary impact.

So I waited. For ten years. And I finally decided this was the year, so I added it to my 25 in 2025 TBR challenge and committed.

Now that I’ve read it, I can say this: I don’t regret it. But I also wouldn’t say I “loved” this book because, honestly, I don’t think this is a book anyone truly loves. What I did feel was something closer to reverence. It’s an experience. A hard, beautiful, brutal experience. Most importantly, I loved Jude. Very few characters grab me in a way that they firmly imprint themselves on my heart to the point that I randomly think of them as if they are real people. I know without a doubt that Jude will be one of those characters.

I also want to say that in my opinion, this isn’t a “gay trauma” book. It’s not even really a “gay book.” Yes, there are gay and bisexual characters. Yes, Jude (the heart of this novel) is queer (though I’m not sure he would have identified in that way. He just happened to have a couple of gay relationships). But this is a book about trauma, pain, friendship, and the long, complicated road of survival. Jude’s story is harrowing. He experiences unspeakable abuse in his childhood, and the emotional, physical, and psychological scars follow him into adulthood. At times, I had to set the book aside because it pulled too hard on things I’d buried deep. Other times, I cried without realizing it was happening. (For the record, I did not experience anything close to what Jude experienced, but I do carry my own fair share of trauma as most gay men do.)

While there’s a lot of pain and trauma in this book, it isn’t just about suffering. There’s also so much love. Found family. Loyalty. Care. The people in Jude’s life—Willem, Harold, even JB and Malcolm in their flawed, human ways—truly love him. They try. They show up. And Jude, as much as he believes he’s unworthy, keeps going. He continues to live. To try. To hope, in his own fractured way.

What hit me the hardest was how Jude internalized the belief that “Brother Luke”, the first man who hurt him, “loved” him. What he experienced with this man became his standard. That’s the part that gutted me: how easily love and abuse can be confused in the mind of a child. And how deeply that distortion can root itself and not let go, even into adulthood.

Do I understand the critiques? Yes. This book is emotionally exhausting. And I absolutely don’t recommend it to everyone. It’s heavy and at times it feels relentless. There are few breaks in the storm. But calling it torture porn dismisses its nuance. This isn’t pain for pain’s sake. It’s a reflection of a reality that too many people live and survive (and sometimes don’t).

Would I recommend it? Carefully, yes. If you’re in a place to carry this story, it’s worth reading. If you’ve ever wondered how trauma can shape (and twist) a person’s life, this book will show you, unflinchingly. But it will also show you what love looks like when it’s patient. When it’s unwavering. When it’s maybe, just maybe, enough to keep someone going.

I’m glad I finally met Jude. I won’t ever forget him.

Also, I tandem read this, switching between physical and audio and Matt Bomer’s narration is exquisite. If you prefer audiobooks, this is a good one.

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