Memories That Smell Like Gasoline

The writing is hypnotic, colloquial, and often surprising—the first story, for instance, ends with the obliterative brightness of a policeman’s flashlight, the prose dissolving into short line segments, too.

Wojnarowicz’s already impressive shadow seems to have grown longer over the past few years . . . It’s moving, if maddening, that we keep uncovering new gifts from a visionary whose life was cut short by a callow administration.

Raw and visceral.

Across his art and writings, Wojnarowicz touches a world he knows will break, a world he hopes to memorialize in words and images, to break and be broken with others . . [Memories] should be in every travel bag this summer—Wojnarowicz forever and ever.

Prepare for some of the most bracing work you’re likely to encounter.

Raw, tender, horrific, compassionate. Everything we have left of David Wojnarowicz is to be cherished.