Aside from researching trigger warnings, the less you know going into this novel the better.

Gag Reflex goes beyond any expectations I had for the title. Nash slashes herself open and lets her guts spill onto the page. The prose is tender, personal, and raw: it demands an emotive relationship between itself and the reader. Lucy's battle with her eating disorder is outlined hyper-realistically, existing with ebbs and flows, showcasing the nonlinear reality of recovery. A symbiotic relationship forms between intimate diary entries and recorded calorie counts, becoming more intertwined as the narrative progresses.

I had to put the book down a few times because it felt like I was sifting through someone's most personal musings without their consent. I felt like I was snooping, doing something wrong. It inserted me into the story, an uncomfortable interloper, viewing Lucy's life through an extremely personal lens. An author who can create that bond between the reader and the text is special.

The only time I didn't feel like an intruder was when passages were so relatable it seemed Nash burrowed herself into the darkest corners of my brain: taking notes and translating my most personal thoughts with an eloquence I could never muster.

2000's internet core is mastered here, down to the most minute of details. As a 90's bb this was very satisfying to interact with. Gag Reflex is a labor of love. I'm happy to exist in the same time period as Elle Nash, excited to read her works forever.