Neon Crosses and Compulsions

The novel opens in Mexico City, where the narrator, JJ, is jolted by the sight of a neon pharmacy cross displaying the date—February 29th, a leap year, and the birthday of a lost lover, Thomas. This moment, charged with the supernatural, compels JJ to begin writing the story of their relationship, a chant for the dead, a plainsong. The act of writing is both penance and resurrection, a way to process grief and guilt. The city's nocturnal energy, the narrator's intoxication, and the sense of being haunted by the past set the tone for a narrative that will blur the lines between fiction, biography, and confession. The compulsion to write is not just about memory, but about survival—about crawling out of perdition by giving shape to the chaos of love and loss.

Lovers in the Nightworld

JJ recalls the first encounters with Thomas in London's queer nightlife, a world of parties, drugs, and performance. Thomas is infamous, beautiful, and emotionally elusive, surrounded by admirers and exuding a tragic, carnal allure. Their courtship is long and indirect, marked by voyeurism, mutual friends, and a sense of inevitability. When they finally connect, it is through a mixture of awkwardness, sexual tension, and the shared experience of being outsiders. Their relationship is defined by secrecy, intensity, and the push-pull of desire and contempt. The city's queer spaces—clubs, squats, afterparties—become the backdrop for a love affair that is as much about self-discovery as it is about the other.

Letters Across Continents

After a brief, passionate affair, JJ leaves for California, seeking reinvention and escape from the limitations of class, gender, and geography. The lovers' connection is sustained through letters—tender, cruel, erotic, and confessional. The act of writing becomes a lifeline, a way to keep the relationship alive across time zones and cultures. JJ's life in San Francisco is communal, bohemian, and experimental, filled with new friends, artistic collaborations, and the intoxicating promise of transformation. Yet, the past is never far away; Thomas's letters are both a comfort and a source of pain, reminding JJ of what was left behind and what can never be fully escaped.

Becoming and Belonging

In California, JJ finds a sense of belonging among other queer artists, activists, and dreamers. The narrative explores the complexities of gender, class, and ambition, as JJ navigates the contradictions of being a working-class, transgender writer in a world that prizes authenticity but is shaped by privilege. Performance art, drag, and collective creation become tools for survival and self-expression. The tension between the desire for stability and the lure of the unknown is ever-present. The letters from Thomas, filled with longing and provocation, keep JJ tethered to London, even as new possibilities open up in America.

The Art of Collage

The novel's structure mirrors the art of collage—scenes from different times and places are juxtaposed, memories are revisited and revised, and the boundaries between truth and fiction blur. Thomas is a photographer obsessed with images of brutalist architecture and adolescent boys, his art both a form of desire and a way of making sense of the world. JJ, in turn, is a hoarder of letters, photographs, and moments, trying to stitch together a coherent narrative from the detritus of a chaotic life. The act of remembering is fraught, shaped by grief, shame, and the need to make meaning from loss.

Sex, Shame, and Survival

Sex in the novel is never just about pleasure—it is a site of negotiation, shame, and power. JJ and Thomas's encounters are raw, sometimes tender, often antagonistic. Their intimacy is shaped by the wounds of the past, by class and gender, by the fear of abandonment and the hunger for recognition. The narrative does not shy away from the messiness of bodies, the risks of disease, the humiliations and betrayals that come with loving and being loved. Survival, both physical and emotional, depends on the ability to keep moving, to reinvent oneself, to find new ways of connecting even as old wounds fester.

Triangles and Betrayals

Upon returning to London, JJ discovers that Thomas is now involved with Adam, JJ's best friend. The revelation is devastating, exposing the fragility of trust and the limits of forgiveness. The love triangle is marked by secrecy, jealousy, and the impossibility of clear boundaries. Each character is both victim and perpetrator, wounded and wounding. The city, once a site of liberation, becomes a labyrinth of missed connections and unresolved tensions. The narrative explores the ways in which love can be both sustaining and destructive, and how betrayal can sometimes be the only way to break free.

The City as Memory

London, San Francisco, New York, Berlin, and Mexico City are more than backdrops—they are characters in their own right, shaping and reflecting the inner lives of the protagonists. Each city is a palimpsest, layered with personal and collective histories, haunted by ghosts of lovers, friends, and selves left behind. The act of moving through the city becomes a way of moving through memory, of confronting the past and imagining the future. The city is both a site of exile and a place of potential rebirth, a reminder that belonging is always provisional.

Exile and Reinvention

JJ's life is marked by a series of departures—leaving home, leaving lovers, leaving cities. Each act of exile is both a loss and an opportunity for reinvention. The narrative explores the tension between the desire for roots and the need to escape, between the comfort of the familiar and the thrill of the unknown. Reinvention is never complete; the past always returns, reshaped by memory and longing. The act of writing becomes a way to make sense of these cycles, to find coherence in the midst of perpetual motion.

Digital Ghosts and Grief

The digital age offers new ways to remember and to mourn—emails, social media profiles, and online archives become repositories for grief and longing. Yet, technology is also a source of loss; messages are deleted, images vanish, and the past becomes increasingly inaccessible. The narrative grapples with the paradox of being more connected than ever, yet haunted by the impermanence of digital memory. The dead linger in inboxes and newsfeeds, their presence both comforting and unbearable. Grief becomes a collective, public performance, even as it remains deeply personal.

The Last Encounter

JJ and Thomas's last meeting is fraught with accusation, regret, and the impossibility of closure. Words fail, wounds are reopened, and the hope for reconciliation is dashed. The encounter is both an ending and a continuation, a moment that will be replayed and reinterpreted endlessly in memory. The narrative refuses the comfort of resolution, insisting instead on the messiness and ambiguity of real relationships. The past cannot be rewritten, but it can be re-examined, re-narrated, and, perhaps, understood.

The Weight of Absence

Thomas's death is sudden, violent, and senseless. The aftermath is marked by shock, anger, and the struggle to find meaning in loss. The narrative explores the rituals of mourning—funerals, memorials, online tributes—and the ways in which the dead continue to shape the lives of the living. Absence becomes a presence, a weight that cannot be lifted. The act of writing is both a way to keep the dead alive and a means of letting them go. The novel insists that grief is not something to be overcome, but something to be lived with, a companion on the journey.

Writing as Resurrection

The act of writing is at the heart of the novel—a way to resurrect the dead, to make sense of chaos, to find coherence in the fragments of memory. JJ's narrative is self-conscious, aware of its own limitations and artifices, yet driven by the need to bear witness. Writing becomes a form of magic, a way to loop back through time, to revisit and revise, to say goodbye and to begin again. The novel is both a love letter and an elegy, a testament to the power of language to heal, to wound, and to endure.

The Loop of Love

The narrative resists linearity, embracing instead the loop—the return of memories, the recurrence of loss, the impossibility of final endings. Love is not something that can be left behind; it returns in dreams, in chance encounters, in the act of writing itself. The past is never past; it is always present, always shaping the future. The novel ends not with closure, but with the recognition that love and grief are ongoing processes, that the work of remembering and letting go is never finished.

Endings, Open and Closed

The final chapters confront the reality of Thomas's death, the impossibility of resurrection, and the necessity of moving forward. Yet, the narrative refuses to end neatly; the act of writing continues, the dead remain present, and the story loops back on itself. The epilogue imagines Thomas's final moments, a fall from a window, a flash of a camera, the psychic "I" closing. The novel ends with a prayer, an acknowledgment that every sentence is both an ending and a beginning, both a farewell and a call to return.

Characters

JJ (The Narrator)

JJ is a working-class, transgender writer whose life is defined by movement, reinvention, and the search for belonging. Haunted by trauma, class alienation, and the complexities of gender, JJ is both fiercely independent and deeply vulnerable. Their relationships—with lovers, friends, cities, and art—are marked by intensity, ambivalence, and a hunger for recognition. JJ's voice is confessional, self-aware, and often laced with irony and self-deprecation. The act of writing is both a compulsion and a salvation, a way to process grief, shame, and the messiness of desire. JJ's journey is one of becoming—never complete, always provisional, shaped by exile, performance, and the need to make meaning from chaos.

Thomas James

Thomas is a photographer, a beautiful and infamous figure in London's queer scene. He is emotionally elusive, sexually voracious, and haunted by his own wounds. His obsessions—with brutalist architecture, adolescent boys, and the aesthetics of decay—mirror his own sense of alienation and longing. Thomas is both victim and perpetrator, capable of tenderness and cruelty, generosity and betrayal. His relationship with JJ is marked by secrecy, intensity, and a constant push-pull of desire and contempt. Thomas's death is sudden and senseless, leaving those who loved him to grapple with the impossibility of closure and the persistence of grief.

Adam

Adam is JJ's best friend and, later, Thomas's lover. A musician and artist, Adam is sensitive, generous, and often caught in the crossfire of other people's dramas. His relationship with JJ is marked by deep affection, unspoken longing, and the pain of betrayal. With Thomas, Adam seeks stability and love, but is repeatedly wounded by Thomas's ambivalence and infidelity. Adam's grief after Thomas's death is profound, marking the end of youth and the beginning of a new, more uncertain chapter.

Elsa

Elsa is a model, artist, and JJ's first friend in London. She is multilingual, resourceful, and endlessly supportive, offering JJ a sense of home and belonging in a world that often feels hostile. Elsa's life is marked by both glamour and sadness, and her relationship with JJ is one of mutual care, artistic collaboration, and shared dreams. She is a stabilizing force, helping JJ navigate the turbulence of love, loss, and self-discovery.

Morgan

Morgan is JJ's closest friend in California and later New York. Adopted, beautiful, and resourceful, Morgan is both a collaborator and a caretaker, helping JJ find work, community, and a sense of purpose. Their relationship is marked by intimacy, humor, and the shared experience of being outsiders. Morgan's eventual decision to leave New York and return to California marks a turning point for JJ, forcing a reckoning with the limits of friendship and the necessity of moving on.

Lulu

Lulu is a star of the queer performance scene, admired by JJ and desired by Thomas. She is both muse and rival, a figure of aspiration and envy. Lulu's presence haunts the narrative, embodying the allure and danger of beauty, fame, and self-invention. Her relationship with JJ is complex, marked by admiration, competition, and the shared experience of being both object and subject of desire.

Jovian

Jovian is a cabaret impresario, confidante, and keeper of secrets. He provides a space for misfits and artists to gather, perform, and find community. Jovian's relationship with JJ is parental, playful, and sometimes exasperated. He is a witness to the cycles of love, loss, and reinvention that define the lives of those around him.

Robert

Robert is JJ's roommate in San Francisco, a model and student whose optimism and generosity provide a counterpoint to JJ's cynicism. His relationship with JJ is platonic but deeply affectionate, marked by shared dreams, artistic collaboration, and the struggle to survive on the margins.

Billy

Billy is a writer and performer in New York, known for his zines and his ability to turn life into art. He is both a friend and a mirror for JJ, embodying the possibilities and dangers of self-exposure. Billy's presence in the narrative is a reminder of the power of storytelling to both reveal and conceal.

Finley

Finley is a painter and friend from California and Berlin, whose own experiences of loss and survival parallel JJ's. His relationship with JJ is marked by mutual care, artistic exchange, and the shared struggle to find meaning in a world marked by trauma and change.

Plot Devices

Epistolary Structure and Collage

The novel employs an epistolary structure and collage—letters, emails, and messages—as both plot device and organizing principle. This allows for a non-linear, collage-like narrative that mirrors the way memory works: fragmented, recursive, and unreliable. The use of letters sustains the connection between JJ and Thomas across time and space, while also highlighting the limitations of language and the impossibility of full understanding. The collage structure enables the novel to move fluidly between past and present, between cities and selves, creating a tapestry of experience that resists closure.

Metafiction and Self-Reflexivity

The act of writing is foregrounded throughout the novel—JJ is both narrator and character, constantly reflecting on the process of storytelling, the ethics of representation, and the limitations of memory. The narrative is self-conscious, aware of its own artifice, and often breaks the fourth wall to address the reader directly. This metafictional approach allows the novel to explore the relationship between art and life, between fiction and truth, and between the living and the dead.

Time Loops and Non-Linearity

The novel resists linear chronology, embracing instead the loop—the return of memories, the recurrence of loss, the impossibility of final endings. Time is experienced as circular, with the past constantly intruding on the present and shaping the future. This structure reflects the experience of grief, in which the dead remain present, and the work of mourning is never complete. The narrative's refusal of closure is both a formal innovation and a thematic statement about the nature of love, loss, and survival.

Urban Spaces as Emotional Landscapes

The novel's settings—London, San Francisco, New York, Berlin, Mexico City—are not just backdrops, but active participants in the story. Each city is a repository of memory, a site of exile and belonging, a character in its own right. The movement through urban spaces mirrors the movement through memory, and the act of navigating the city becomes a metaphor for the search for self, for love, and for meaning.

Digital Memory and the Persistence of the Dead

The novel grapples with the paradoxes of digital memory—emails, social media, and online archives both preserve and erase the past. The dead linger in inboxes and newsfeeds, their presence both comforting and unbearable. The impermanence of digital memory becomes a metaphor for the fragility of all human connection, and the act of writing becomes a way to resist oblivion, to keep the dead alive, if only for a little while.

Analysis

At Certain Points We Touch is a raw, lyrical meditation on love, loss, and the search for self in a world marked by trauma, exile, and perpetual change. Lauren John Joseph's novel is both a queer coming-of-age story and a profound exploration of grief, memory, and the power of art to transform pain into meaning. Through its fragmented, collage-like structure, the book captures the messiness of real relationships—their beauty, their violence, their capacity to wound and to heal. The novel insists that identity is always provisional, shaped by class, gender, desire, and the cities we inhabit. It is a testament to the ways in which we are haunted by the past, by the dead, and by the selves we might have been. At its heart, the book is about the necessity of storytelling—not as a way to achieve closure, but as a means of survival, a way to keep moving, to keep loving, and to keep the dead alive in the only way we can: through memory, art, and the endless loop of longing and return.

Last updated: June 11, 2025