While I expected Lamb to break my heart, I didn't quite expect it to turn it inside out and scoop out its contents in the visceral way it did. This book is brutal yet tender, just like the titular Lamb, and as the narrator, D, sifts through Lamb's belongings to understand him, I think he's also trying to know himself. The fragmentary, non-linear storytelling works well for the story, as D looks through the past.

We're left without an easy answer or resolution. In that way, it's a reflection of life and the illusory nature of memory - how uncertain it is.

The book vaguely reminded me of Hua Hsu's memoir, Stay True, which is also a reflection on a close friend's death (not a spoiler; it's the premise of both books). While the two books are wildly different in style, the hearts behind them are what made me think of it: growing up in a world that doesn't accept you, searching for belonging in the face of loss.