“What Tolbert leaves for the work as a whole is a nuanced portrait of an identity resistant to simplificationHere, Waywords most often uses this term as a form of false ... and political label, one that risks pronouncement, and one just earnestly human.”

There are great empathetic discoveries to be made in both the words and spaces Tolbert creates in Gephyromania (the madness, perhaps from a few of crossing bridges–and yes, definitely a metaphor, not merely for the trans- community). They are subtle, often very intimate, and–on the surface–often casually displayed.

The narrative camera zooms in and pans wide abruptly, first offering an image of close physicality and awe, then snapping back to a diction of distance and obscurantism. This is often disorienting, and it can leave readers scratching heads at what one line has to do with the next. I found much of it, then, at its worst, perhaps too sybaritic, too self-indulgent in its confessionalism and leaving the reader behind to fend for themselves.

Nevertheless, what Tolbert leaves for the work as a whole is a nuanced portrait of an identity resistant to simplificationHere, Waywords most often uses this term as a form of false ... and political label, one that risks pronouncement, and one just earnestly human. The tragedy is that this must be marked as a valid literary goal for the queer community. The praise for Tolbert I can offer is that he does not stop there.

And while I can admire the courage in the face of struggles he has lived, translating that onto a page, even with the gifted lines that pepper their way through this book, is still a different feat altogether.