I discovered this author and his book through a U2 concert. They had used a phrase, “Smell the flowers while you can”, that struck a chord with me. I looked it up, and that search led me to a work that is nothing less than a soul laid bare. It was a testament from a man who, shortly after the publication of Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration in 1991, lost his life due to AIDS-related complications. The book had been sitting on my shelf for months. Perhaps it was waiting for me, or I for it, I'm not sure. And even though I wasn’t particularly in the mood to read something so intense at the time, I finally decided to start it. I hoped it might draw me in, and it did. It’s a heavy and often brutal book, raw and deeply realistic. It presents a side of American life that is rarely seen through any other medium. And I say rarely, because other forms of expression typically involve multiple layers of mediation: people, processes, and compromises that can dilute the original ...