Darker than I was expecting, Young Mungo pulled me under and forced me to experience a level of emotion I was unprepared for. Every time I stepped away from this story, it took longer to escape from the absolute heartbreak and sense of hopelessness that escalated with every moment. The small pockets of hope that only existed to plunge you further into the abyss pages later made it even worse.

As difficult as it was to read, I had to know what would happen next. The timeline alternates between what I assumed to be past and present with no pattern or label, but it was never confusing. While I sometimes preferred one storyline over the other, it wasn’t consistent, and I just wanted more of everything. The perspective could change within a chapter, and it added more emotional layers to view the same event through different filters at almost the same time.

It’s never easy to read about violence and abuse, particularly when the themes hit so close to home and mirror so many actual experiences. Mungo’s world is violent in an unavoidable way before we even begin to explore his sexuality. He’s deeply dependent on an emotionally and physically unavailable mother with addiction problems and an older sister who raises him the best she can while trying to escape the same situation. His older brother lives well outside of the law, eager to physically attack anyone from the police to his own family. He's equally willing to use emotional manipulation to get his way, and poor, sweet Mungo never stands a chance, even when he knows what’s going on. His desperation to be loved and wanted makes him a target for everyone, even his family members. And while there were moments between Mungo and James that were so blissfully pure, it was also heartbreaking to see how the masculine ideals of this time and place influenced their ability to be affectionate and caring, even in private.