Tucker Shaw’s When You Call My Name is a literary romance spoiled by self-indulgent writing and nostalgia.
In theory, as a gay man who enjoys the occasional gay love story (even the tragic ones), I should be the ideal audience for When You Call My Name. Unfortunately, I think the tragic 80s/90s tragic-gay-AIDS story is a bit done to death, and so when I see another title treading the same tired ground, I expect the author to do something new with it.
This is not the case in Shaw’s book. On top of that disappointment, the writing is overwrought, navel-gazing, and unnecessarily opaque. Usually some 90s nostalgia can carry me, but here, even that wasn’t enough.
Recommended for readers who can’t get enough of the tragic gay trope and rehashing the AIDS crisis.

How can we all know the same amount of words some authors have this magic ability to take the words and place them in a way that makes your brain light up when you are reading. As you might have guessed: the writing is very expertly descriptive. However, as excited as I was about reading this one - it didn’t suck me in. It is a dedication to those who we lost to AIDS. And for that, I will treasure it.

For teens who want to know more about AIDS. For 40- and 50-somethings who remember those years. For lovers of It’s a Sin. Actually, for anyone who cherishes unforgettable books.

When You Call My Name is not perfect, the pop references were a bit too much, and still, I want to rate this a million stars. Pitched as a young adult, When You Call My Name is so much more. It’s a dedication to all those young people who lost their lives to AIDS. A dedication to the late eighties and early nineties. A dedication to queer people. A dedication to New York. And this review is my dedication to Callum. Sweet Callum. Lovable Callum. Beautiful Callum. Endless Callum.

I’m speechless, and I don’t have many words to say. And at the same time, I want to shout out about When You Call My Name. Because the writing is so vivid and descriptive, I could feel the wind, see the parks, hear the traffic, smell the food. And because the story made me feel so much. I smiled and I cried and I got goosebumps and I watched in the distance. I hugged my cats and family. I thought of those boys I knew back then, Rick and Rick, and the red-head with his harem full of girls (if you ever read this, you know it’s you). I hope they’re still alive and doing well. And when I was done staring and hugging and musing, this story pulled the corners of my mouth up again and made my belly flutter and put lumps in my throat. And when I finished the story and thought I was done crying, tears leaped in my eyes again. I cried massive, beautiful tears. Because of the author’s note. Tucker, I can’t remember ever crying so much because of an author’s note in the back of a book. Thank you so much for sharing your story! Those three beautiful boys will always have a piece of my heart.

Thank you so much, Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group, for allowing me to read When You Call My Name early!

Written in a dual third-person narrative, Adam’s and Ben’s, and a third unknown first-person narrative, When You Call My Name is a gem of a book following three boys in 1990 when AIDS was everywhere in the gay community. The writing is simple but effective, even lyrical at times. I read this declaration of love to queer love, queer friendship, and New York in one sitting because I couldn’t let go of Adam, Ben, and Callum. A remarkable story that tells an essential part of our recent history and therefore deserves a place in every school library!