A hugely entertaining, open-hearted, and insightful memoir. Daniel Allen Cox sheds light on what it means to grow up as a Jehovah’s Witness coming to terms with queerness, and how families survive and love one another after being fragmented by a divergence of faith, all while offering a delightful romp through the late 90s gay scene in Montreal and New York. Filled with great humour and moments of tender grace, I Felt the End Before It Came is a joy to read from start to finish.” AI Dubbing Automatically translate and dub new or existing videos in over 100’s of languages with AI video dubbing. I have never worked in an ad agency myself. My wife, however, did a stint at one on Michigan Avenue, and she assures me this is a correct description of media buyers. In his tenacious and sharply written memoir-in-essays I Felt the End Before it Came, Daniel Allen Cox details his experiences as a queer man struggling against the lasting effects of his childhood indoctrination into the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Cox’s fifth book and first memoir is a culmination of what he describes as “a lifelong project to redefine words that had once been used against [him].” Throughout the book, Cox trades the church’s Paradise for a Paradise of books and music, and a theology of shame for “a theology of queer tenderness.” But very early on in writing the memoir, I realized I’d eventually need multiple frameworks to tell the full story. A cult exit narrative, while it has defined much of my life, is never going to be enough. Which leads me to believe that this is only my first memoir.

Daniel shares his story of being a gay man and leaving JW as a "Jo Homo" and how his family members, friends, church goer's are suppose to cut him out completely. He could corrupt them or plant seeds of evil in their heads so the relationship must be severed. Daniel experiences all the emotions and numbs the pain with sex, drugs and alcohol but also discovers himself in the process. Instead on bad days I passive-aggressively sip out of my favorite Office Space mug in hopes that my co-workers will get the point that I’m this close to pulling a Milton . . . .

Success!

Before I go I feel compelled to mention that as much as I liked the book, I felt the end dragged on a bit. So go ahead and skim the last couple of chapters, you'll get the gist.

Daniel Allen Cox’s new memoir in essays, I Felt the End Before It Came, is the first memoir by a queer ex-Jehovah’s Witness put out by a major publisher. It’s a captivating, richly layered text that dismantles any reductive ideas readers may hold about indoctrination, departures, comings-out, and the practice of memoir-writing itself. Rail: One aspect of your book I loved was seeing you emerge as a writer. You grew up in a belief system that you call “anti-education,” one that discouraged you from going to college. (After all, you write, “Why bother getting a degree when the world is about to end?”) How did you become interested in writing and how’d you get so damn good at it? from “All this is a continuation of the lie, but . . . if I remain consistent, it comes close to the truth” By Alina Stefanescu I Felt the End Before It Came is, in many ways, perched between worlds. It’s about this millennium and the last, about childhood indoctrination and adolescent self-discovery. It’s about departures, but it’s also a classic coming-of-age tale about finding, and fighting for, the truest version of yourself. What sets Cox apart as a memoirist is his ability to find nuance in difficult situations. In Cox’s clear-eyed estimation, leaving a high-control group isn’t as easy as being in or out. “None of my departures were as simple as they first seemed,” he writes. As an ardent fan of Catch-22, I initially scoffed at the comparisons of this novel to Joseph Heller's masterpiece, but I'll be damned if I didn't come to agree with them: Then We Came to the End has the same large cast of characters, the nonlinear timeline, the smarts, the absurdity--plus, most importantly, the ability to wring both humor and compassion from such a grim scenario.The first thing to say about this book is that no matter what else I think about the plot, the themes, the point of view, or any other aspect of this novel, it was compulsively readable, which in itself is a mark of how fine a talent Joshua Ferris is. Well, unlike some people, I’m trying to get some work done. Some people actually generate revenue around here, you handjob.” That’s how I see it, too. Hating your job is, of course, your prerogative. I have hated mine on many days. And some of Ferris’s characters embody that. But this idea that you are somehow living a pointless existence just because your job description isn’t “New York City Detective” or “New York City Writer” is more than a bit condescending. The meaning of life is the meaning you give to life. I’ve known plenty of people who took incredible pride in what they did, no matter the task.