Tea’s candid examinations of addiction, pleasure and belonging have embodied and nurtured a subculture.

... [Tea] takes readers along with her with the same wit and humor she’s brought to different worlds throughout her prolific writing life.

We are given a front row seat to these three years that Tea and Orson (and their friends and their families) spent consumed with the hopes of them eventually becoming parents. Tea narrates the ups and downs of the process with her trademark humor and doesn’t shy away from giving us all of the gory, sad, disappointing, and heart-wrenching details that became parts of their paths to parenthood.

Whether Tea is writing nonfiction or cult-favorite fiction, her work is her own, ringing in her unmistakable voice: wry, witty, authentic, down-to-earth but also way-up-in-the-clouds. Above all, it’s the self-deprecating, self-aware and ultimately self-loving honesty that distinguishes Tea’s way of life and her irresistible, evocative and wise way of writing about it.

... there’s a feeling of urgency throughout Knocking Myself Up. There’s an unfair pressure to make its story—and other stories about the choices of reproduction—universal, to explain things to those who insist on ignorance. There’s an imperative to try to persuade people (never mind that many are probably unpersuadable) of one’s humanity.

While there is no shortage of information about pregnancy available to twenty-first century readers, Tea’s experience is a uniquely queer and feminist one that is rarely at the forefront of these discussions.

... frank and funny.

... intimate, comic, and irreverent.