Well, Mama, This is It (it’s Now Or Never) is unlike anything I’ve read before. It’s part confession, part storytelling, and part letter-writing, all stitched together with raw honesty and a strong emotional pulse. The book moves between voices, sometimes it’s a teenage boy writing to his grandmother, other times it’s a young woman chasing a dream life, or even a haunting personal tale of loss and survival. At its heart, though, the book is a letter to her mother, a brave and vulnerable coming-out story wrapped in poetry, reflections on love, faith, and the messy business of being human.

In “A Story of a Friend of a Friend,” when Adaina shares her journey from being a teacher to a stripper, the descriptions are almost cinematic. She writes about smoky eye makeup, French pedicures, and stepping into the strip club as if it were a Hollywood set. It’s dazzling, but then the tone flips as she describes the loneliness and danger behind the glamour, and suddenly I was pulled from the surface glitter into the heavy silence of regret. That swing between fantasy and reality is something the book does again and again, and it made me feel the same kind of emotional whiplash she must have lived through.

I also loved the way she mingles imagination with truth. Take “Secret Agent (Voodoo Princess),” where Rebecca Tanon, a demon-child-turned-undercover-agent, blurs the line between folklore and personal reflection. At first, I thought it was a sharp left turn into fiction, but it clicked for me as a metaphor for how heavy family expectations and inherited trauma can feel like being born with a mission you never asked for. The story gave me chills, not just because of the supernatural edge, but because of what it revealed about how powerless a child can feel in the hands of adults.

In “To My Newest Pen Pal, Jant Leaps,” Adaina writes a heartfelt letter that evolves into a romantic confession, blending vulnerability with defiance against judgment. In “Sexual Orientation,” she reflects on faith, family, and identity, ultimately affirming that love is sacred regardless of gender. She weaves in verses about love, love with a woman who makes her feel free, love that pulls her away from Hennessy and Ecstasy, love that feels holy even when the world insists it’s wrong. There’s vulnerability in her admission, “I never thought I could fall in love with Eve’s gender,” but also defiance when she insists, “Yes, I am a Christian, but my religion is kindness.” That blend of fear, yearning, and courageous self-acceptance struck me deeply. It’s not polished in the way mainstream memoirs often are, but that’s what makes it powerful. It feels like a real letter, one that trembles with truth.

In the end, I walked away from this book feeling like I had just sat across from someone who didn’t hold anything back. It’s raw. It’s uneven at times. But it’s alive with feeling, and that’s rare. I’d recommend this book to anyone who craves honesty in writing, teens struggling with self-expression, readers curious about queer coming-of-age stories, or anyone who wants to feel less alone in their own mess of faith, love, and identity. It’s not a book for someone looking for clean lines or tidy endings, but if you’re okay with sitting in the chaos of someone else’s truth, then Well, Mama, This is It (it’s Now Or Never) will move you the way it moved me.

Pages: 51 | ASIN : B0DT7FZS7Q