Broome refuses to pare down his interrogation of manhood, and he offers up his own life as a window, writing with lyricism, vividness and unflinching honesty as he ushers readers through the stages of his becoming ... his writing is as lucid, heart-rending and, on occasion, hilarious, as it is necessary ... Broome exposes with elegiac detail the malaise that eats away at Black boys because of the pressures they face to become the ideal image of manhood — even if the consequence of that refashioning is the annihilation of Black boys’ spirits ... feels like a gift. There will come a day when some Black child like Tuan will have read Broome’s masterwork and possibly commit to staying alive because of Broome’s words. They will tell him that Punch Me Up to the Gods is a testament to the insurgent and ineradicable power of Black queer being. That it reveals that Black queer men are our own best creations.
... reads as a series of essays in which voice, time, and even point of view shift in service of evocative, unflinching storytelling ... Broome deftly weaves humor and heartbreak ... While Broome’s lived experiences are uniquely his, Punch Me Up to the Gods is a compelling and consequential read for anyone who has ever felt deeply different and alone.
Brian Broome loses no time establishing his bona fides as the most fearless of memoirists who is capable of such magic ... Broome gets to work putting himself on the witness stand of his own life, where the obligation to tell the truth produces harrowing testimony that makes our ears bleed at times ... Punch Me Up to the Gods delivers disturbing scenes of both racism in a rural Ohio and the homophobic bullying he faced at home from his unemployed father and others ... In tales laced with droll humor and stoicism that would be impossible for most people to generate under the circumstances, we follow Broome’s increasingly desperate attempts to fit into whatever scene would be willing to have him ... Whether describing the accidental burning down of his childhood home or a savage beating by his father when he is caught playing with dolls in his sister’s room, Punch Me Up to the Gods is full of narrative complexity and richness.
... ferocious honesty and a cutting insight ... There are instances of gallows humor here as wel ... More than laughter, readers will find horror in these pages. But more than anything, they will find an abiding humanity shared in gorgeous writing and aching detail. This is such a rich and emotionally complex memoir that tackles not issues, but the real-life experiences of a person who cannot be so easily reduced. For Broome, clarity begins with a radical departure, following the path of James Baldwin to France and seeking out, as he writes to Tuan, possibilities that seem limitless. This hopeful note, which is not saccharine or naive, ties the knot of tenderness that threads through this often flinty book ... raw and beautiful, a wonder of writing and reflection, and an absolute marvel.
Beautifully interwoven with the spare but piercing lines of Gwendolyn Brooks’s poem 'We Real Cool,' Punch Me Up to the Gods nevertheless unravels the complicated realities of being Black and male and gay ... a revolving, prismatic narrative that offers readers a searing initiation into his experience ... The book’s thematic organization makes its structure unpredictable, though its depth and resonance steadily increase with each chapter. Broome’s sentences can also end up in unexpected places. While some are light and silky smooth, others snap at the end like a bullwhip, provoking a mental double take, a yelp of laughter, or a twist of anguish (sometimes all three) ... This is a visceral book. Broome writes about his body in a way that you will feel in your own. His powers of kinesthetic communication first become clear in his descriptions of the violence that permeated his youth ... Broome’s stories about his life as a gay Black man balance this stinging honesty with intelligence, compassion, and wit. Though these stories may be all he has to show for his earlier quests for others’ approval, they are themselves worthy of the kind of love and appreciation Broome struggled to find in his younger days.
Ambitiously structured around Gwendolyn Brooks’s iconic poem 'We Real Cool,' Brian Broome’s debut memoir of growing up Black and gay in 1980’s Ohio is an electrifying read. Vulnerable and poetic but filled with a ferocious fire, it grabs you from the first page to the last. Perfect for fans of Sarah Broom, Kiese Laymon, and Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight.
... a compelling memoir bursting at the seams with raw power. From the first line, Broome asserts his unique voice ... Broome is a debut author, but you wouldn’t know it by his writing. He commands his story and readers’ attention in a way that will have them laughing, crying, and screaming along with him as he reflects on his childhood and navigates his adulthood as a gay Black man in the United States. His writing is moving, especially when telling the story of his parents’ difficult relationship, which in turn affected Broome’s relationship with them ... an exquisite and important memoir that will sit proudly among the likes of Kiese Laymon’s Heavy and Darnell L. Moore’s No Ashes in the Fire.
... magnificent and harrowing ... Broome frankly details his early physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his father, white teachers, and neighborhood boys, as well as his later struggles with shame, substance abuse, and melancholic attempts to find community in Black queer spaces ... There are no easy victims or villains in Broome’s painful, urgent telling—his testimony rings out as a searing critique of soul-crushing systems and stereotypes.
... engrossing ... Broome’s thought-provoking, emotional journey unfolds through a clever use of parallel stories and juxtaposition ... Beautifully written, this examination of what it means to be Black and gay in America is a must-read ... A stellar debut memoir.
