[Has] a lot to say about desire and pain and depression and shame and unlikely sources of joy, among other topics ... Blind Man’s Bluff is amiable, too. It’s been a long time since I met such a thoroughly normal guy in a memoir. Hill doesn’t try to impress us with his tastes and persona ... His book doesn’t have the grit and the rage and determined literariness [of other memoirs] ... But I’d buy him a beer anytime.
[A] disarmingly honest and funny memoir ... Hill writes movingly of the internalized shame and stigma that had such a strong hold on him for some 15 years ... The author is adept at humor in Blind Man’s Bluff and he also deploys finely tuned, often deliciously slow-building suspense ... Blind Man’s Bluff is an inspiring, often incredible story that reminds us of the strength that can come from vulnerability.
Hill sketches these scenes in a spare, fuss-free way. The emotions hit late, a little behind the beat, providing a jolt of surprise as well as drama. He’s funny in the same backhanded way ... Hill also writes like someone who has spent too much time in his own head. Most of the book is in first-person, but sometimes Hill falls into second-person detached, as if he got tired of being near his own story. He jumps time and place in a way that can be hard to follow ... I wonder if Hill left some of the shadings out on purpose — not just to protect people (he changes some names and identifiers), but to give the reader a sense of how he has to process the world ... Hill finally stumbles toward a happy ending and it seems rushed; at first it felt to me as if Hill were racing to meet a deadline. But maybe it’s the natural reaction of someone who doesn’t trust happiness yet.