... stunning ... a remarkably assured work; it’s easy to forget that it’s a debut. Carrington’s drawing style, with the lines doing all the work, is reminiscent of Joe Sacco’s, and she has a sure hand at integrating image and text, maintaining a compelling narrative drive throughout. She proves herself especially adept at capturing the elusive essence of certain inflection points in life—boundaries you don’t realize have been crossed until it’s too late to turn back, ruefully recognized only with hindsight ... As the book proceeds past its halfway point, it becomes clear that what has been a memoir of trauma is also a meditation on the nature of justice—the need for it, the pursuit of it, and the limits of its reach ... not an easy read, but it is an essential one.

... somehow this isn’t an unremittingly bleak book, as it easily could have been and that is due to Emily Carrington’s consummate skill in the graphic novel format. She draws her rural childhood as full of bucolic moments and is generous in how she describes her clearly dysfunctional parents ... As a prose memoir, this would be tough to read. It’s not easy as a graphic memoir, either, but the format gives the reader air. The full black pages separating chapters provide both a pause and visual emblem for the darkness of the story. And Carrington’s clarity helps. She’s clearly done a lot of work on healing her pain and brings that understanding to her descriptions ... In this way her graphic memoir provides a map for others on the power of storytelling. Nobody can control what she puts on the page, how she uses words and images to shape her narrative, to make sense of her world ... Telling a story, Carrington shows, takes its own kind of courage, and reaps its own deep rewards.

I loved the book. Carrington is a terrific storyteller, even if her muse is her deep deep pain. I found myself cheering for her, turning page after page of this graphic memoir hoping that it would get better, that she would get justice or revenge or both ... Carrington draws in a style that is spare and descriptive at the same time, while rendering her pages in a black-and-white that befits the graveness of the subject matter. And her writing deftly blends exposition and introspection in the tradition of the best graphic novelists. (Though few have such serious subjects to confront.) I hope she’s found the catharsis she needs in the making of this book, and that in doing so, she’ll be free to write another book. I really want to see her find happiness.

... drew me in with its unique illustrations and heart-wrenching story ... beautifully designed ... This is by no means an easy graphic memoir to get through; it’s disturbing. However, its story resonated with me and I found myself on a rollercoaster of emotions throughout. The illustrations added an extra layer of depth as we weren’t only able to read the words of Carrington’s abuse, but we could see it. It either makes us sympathize with her or have the strong urge to punch a wall due to the oblivious adults around her. The art style and layout of the illustrations add a unique touch to the way the story was told, and I particularly love the way that Carrington portrays her present self. Anytime she’s talking directly to the readers, she’s sitting at a table as if in an interview. This adds personality to the memoir as well as breaking up the intense story ... may not give us the outcome that we want, but it makes a statement about the awful system that’s in place for anyone who wants to charge their abuser. Her experience in doing so should be about healing and getting justice, but Carrington is subjected to more trauma and suffering because she isn’t being listened to. This system does more harm than good in Carrington’s situation, and she drives that point home through the depiction of her struggles ... may be a resource for Carrington’s own healing, but it’s also a resource for other survivors. This powerful and emotional story shines light on the horrific truth of childhood sexual abuse while also acting as an immensely useful tool for other survivors. In 2022, self-awareness, acknowledging and eventually healing from past traumas are important. Opening up and offering that vulnerability, though it feels challenging, can be as easy as feeling kinship through books or videos when talking feels too difficult. There isn’t just one way to acknowledge the pain we have bottled inside. For Carrington, she offers vulnerability by sharing her trauma through this graphic memoir, peeling back the layers of her own trauma to provide the confidence someone needs to shed light on their trauma, too. As more people share their stories, more people will learn that they aren’t alone. Knowing that sexual abuse happens more often than we think, I hope this memoir is able to reach the people that need it.

Line drawings, with deceptively simple character designs, depict a life fraught with dangerous omens, carried in metaphorical and real images ... In depicting her abuse and the aftermath with rawness, realism, and a dreamlike final act—in which 'Lady Justice' is a temp who’s late to pick up her child from day care—Carrington has done a service to all who navigate trauma without tidy endings.