“[This] memoir brims with uniquely personal insight.”
— Write or Die
“The Long Hallway is a feat of lyrical memoir, and Larson continually shows a depth of love and care for his journey toward acceptance and the often misunderstood genre’s influence on his life.”
— Chicago Review of Books
“[A] vivid and cinematic memoir debut. . . . One can draw many lessons from The Long Hallway: that desire is inevitable, looking is dangerous, we become what we fear, and bogeymen are ubiquitous. . . . [Larson’s] deftness at showing the prism of interiority, his forensic sense of detail, and his way of writing into the incomprehensible are what make this gem of a memoir the only way out of Haddonfield.”
— The Brooklyn Rail
“Beautifully written, emotionally insightful, and highly evocative.”
— Booklist
“Offers a compelling argument for reading the opening of Halloween as a coming-out story. . . . Horror fans will find much to love in Larson’s deep fandom and unique perspective on the film, and memoir fans will delight in his unique approach to the form.”
— Write or Die Magazine
“Halloween, horror, desire, death, and what lurks in the shadows of the suburban Midwest—The Long Hallway is the book of my dark dreams. With tension, tenderness, and longing in every line, this is a memoir you feel in your skin, a deeply vulnerable and hauntingly powerful meditation on watching and being seen, isolation and escape, and uncovering the truth of our stories, and our families, to see ourselves more clearly.”
— Melissa Faliveno, author of Tomboyland
“An exquisite book: atmospheric, metaphysical, transformative. Larson provides an extended meditation on menace, and what it means to walk beside it and not be destroyed by it. I’m enthralled by Larson’s willingness to acknowledge how the cruelty of his environment has shaped him, and his compassion and respect for his younger self feels singular.”
— Paul Lisicky, author of Later: My Life at the Edge of the World
“Somewhere in the chasm that runs between our open secrets and our adolescent desires, we become ourselves. This is a book with the power to remind us how quickly young queers become voyeurs in their own lives, always living it double, watching from inside our great secret. I was moved by it because I understood the boy at its center: In a way, he was me, not so much because young Larson and I were really the same, but because in the author’s hands, I grew to feel—to hope—that we were.”
— K. Austin Collins, film critic