An intimate look into the bonds that rebuild us after tragedy.
Thirty-seven-year-old Efren “Chino” Flores has just moved to the San Francisco Bay Area from Seattle. In Seattle, Chino lived with his wife, Luna, and taught middle school biology. But when Luna got pregnant and then had a miscarriage, the grief ripped them apart. Now, Chino must navigate a new beginning, relying on the support of his closest friends, Metal Matt and Mike and Kay, along with the romantic and sexual partners—both men and women—that he meets. Often the borders between sexual and platonic are not clear—for Chino, friendship toes the line of eroticism. Spanning the years 2018 to 2022 and the Covid-19 pandemic, the book follows Chino as he moves from San Francisco up to Guerneville and then to Oakland, teaching after-school classes about local wildlife to middle schoolers and eventually starting his own nature-based educational institution. Interwoven in the plot are vignettes of his childhood, teachings on ferns and other native plants, and meditations on ever-changing and ever-present grief: “There is something about grief that holds on to you. Or maybe it’s you holding on to it. Like itching a scab, like stroking a scar. A reminder.” Chino’s voice is quirky and refreshingly frank: With a new lease on life, he’s exploring what he likes and doesn’t like, reflecting on the gifts and frustrations of friendship, sex, and loneliness. But there are moments in this story that feel thematically underdeveloped: At one point, Chino and his friends go to a spin class before heading out to protest a Nazi gathering; during the spin class, they all enthusiastically cheer “Fuck Nazis,” a scene that feels both out of touch and a little overwrought.
A thoughtful, tender, if somewhat earnest tribute to the joyful minutiae that sustain us.