I found this book admirable in its unflinching look at poverty and what someone is willing to do to safeguard themselves and those they love against it. The writing style was captivating with a strong voice and point of view. I would absolutely recommend this memoir to other readers.

I could not stop reading this. Between the uncommon or not often heard work to the voice of the author, the book delivered and felt like this could have been a close friend who went dark for a few years and now you've discovered why.

Guhrule started as a stripper, and leaned into her ability to compel conversation out of clients to get tips. One such client passed her a business card and told her he'd like to take her out to dinner and would pay for her to come.

It elides quite quickly into a business arrangement of sugaring, companionship for cash. But as G finds out, her times with her client, John, is unpaid. It's the sex work that is compensated.

Reading about how the relationship develops, and how her sense of what her work means to her develops over the course of the book will keep you close to the story. Though she clearly has debts to pay, and feels an exceptionally strong sense of obligation to assist her family, she feels shame for the sex work that she's doing, unwilling to share this with any friends.

That was in fact one part that I was particularly interested in hearing more about. During the course of this "lifetime" where she's sugaring, it's like her love life and any friends she may have had got put on hold. We know she'd just come out if a relationship but there's no confidante that she has other than her family eho are exceptionally amusing and non judgmental but no close friends with whom she can chew any of this over with.

I found it asked some good questions in regards to how we judge this type of work, these types of relationships but mainly the women, and not the paying man in the larger context of what people can be driven to do with what's at their disposal. The shame that we place on this type of work and the assumptions on who and what types of people may be attracted to this type of work is extremely unfair and misguided.

*With thanks to Netgalley and The Unnamed Press for the chance to read an advance copy of this book - all views are my own*

Michelle Gurule’s memoir had me hooked within the first few pages. It’s a raw and unflinching look at what living in the sort of “acceptable”, commonplace, everyday poverty that so many Americans experience actually means, and it examines head-on the murky territory of realising the potential to mitigate that existence via selling sex - something that still, even in supposedly enlightened spaces such as the university classroom where Michelle spends her days - comes with a string of assumptions and judgements attached to it.

Michelle was a 24 year old student and working part time at Whole Foods when she realised that she could earn more, in less time, by becoming a stripper. She is honest in the book about her ambivalence towards this role; about the hollow disappointment of not earning enough tips; about her own self consciousness and feelings of inadequacy, along with the conflict between her sexuality and identity as a queer woman in the world of selling dances to straight men. So when a wealthy punter offered her the chance to become a sugar baby, and earn previously unimagined sums of money for sharing her time and, of course, her body with him - it felt initially like a no-brainer.

The book goes hard on the lived reality of that experience over the next couple of years of Michelle’s life, as “John” introduces her to the level of luxury that his wealth can fund. One of the first things she asks for is to have her rotting teeth fixed, and this really spoke to me - just to be able to eat without pain was something that she had accepted was out of reach, until with one envelope full of cash John magics the pain away.

John is never portrayed as a monster, and in many ways inspires pity rather than anything else, but Michelle is very honest about the disconnect she has to create between her body and mind to continue with the work he pays her for. It’s a disconnect he appears either not to notice or to conveniently ignore, although sometimes (his slurpy kisses!) it feels like he chooses acts that he knows she likes least, because he can.

John, though, at least at the outset is honest about the transactional nature of their relationship, whereas her university tutor Wes, who enters the story later - a man in a position of authority in Michelle’s life, an educated and supposedly enlightened man who gains enough of Michelle’s trust to be one of the few people she tells about her income source - is a far more predatory and malicious influence upon her. I found the juxtaposition of the two men a really compelling dichotomy.

Overall, I finished up think everyone should read this book and I will buy it for friends when it’s released. I was impressed by its heart - by the unsentimental details of Michelle’s close-knit and loving family, flawed and unconventional but hers to confide in - and by the clear-eyed gaze she turns upon her life at that time, keeping the tone of the book just right, with no hectoring or judgement or self pity. It just is what it is, and yet there’s hope too, and that’s propels it.

I didnt realise how much i'd relate to Michelley! This memoir is full of self-deprecating humour and honesty- the result is humble hilarity. You will cringe but in a way where you're cringing WITH Michelle. I love how she has captured the duality of all the people in her world. They gross you out but you also wanna give them a little kiss on the forehead. PRO TIP: I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading this book. It's entirely Alanis Morissette.

“Thank You, John” is a memoir by Michelle Gurule that recounts her experience as a sugar baby. At the time, Gurule was a young college student couch surfing with her family in Colorado. Like her parents and sister, she lived in generational poverty, struggling from paycheck to paycheck while facing a backlog of bills.

During this difficult period, she decided to return to work as an exotic dancer. While stripping, she was presented with the opportunity to become a sugar baby. Despite being queer and having reservations about this line of work, Gurule felt compelled to pursue this avenue to alleviate her family’s financial burdens.

In her memoir, Gurule shares her financial struggles, family life, aspirations of becoming a writer, and her various relationships. Although she experiences shame regarding her choices, I wish she had directed more of that emotion toward the systemic issues at play and some of the toxic relationships around her. She does touch on these factors to some extent, but I feel that some of her internalized resentment is misdirected. That said, this is a coming-of-age memoir, and there is no one way to feel.

Gurule skillfully portrays a loving and humorous family dynamic while illustrating the feeling of being trapped by debt. I would definitely like to know more about the aftermath of her experiences. I would recommend this book to fans of Michelle Tea. Thank you to Unnamed Press and NetGalley for providing the advance reader copy in exchange for an honest review.