I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself by Marisa Crane

Marisa Crane's speculative fiction book I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself is exactly as fascinating—and rather delightfully odd—as its title. Crane creates a story that creeps carefully beneath your skin and puts down roots by fusing speculative components with profoundly human vulnerability.

Crane invites us to a universe where criminal punishment is demonstrated physically as extra shadows—visible reminders of guilt and shame—and she does so with language that moves between poetic tenderness and cutting humour. These shadows are attached to "offenders", publicly labeling them and influencing their social status in convoluted and usually devastating ways, not unlike many such social stigmas in real life.

Fundamentally, this is a queer examination of grief, parenthood, love, and the awkward joy of living authentically—even if authenticity might hurt. You will laugh and wince alike as characters negotiate affection and separation, healing and harrowing, in ways that are sometimes mercilessly pertinent.

Here, you cannot expect perfect answers or unambiguous heroes. Rather, get ready for conversations that offer calm wisdom, relationships laden with spoken and unspoken truths, and emotional terrain complicated enough to reflect… well… real life.

I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself might be the tale you didn't realize you needed, if you appreciate your speculative fiction savvy but bizarre, probing and profound, and able to make you smile even as it delicately crushes your heart.