This book sounded like the songs Piano Man and Pink Pony Club. I felt a sense of longing and nostalgia for a time and place I’ve never experienced. When I tell you these characters felt so real and so believable, phew! There was an emotional connection to nearly all characters introduced that made *every single one* memorable.

I’d argue this is near perfection. I’ve struggled to write this review because of how speechless A Language of Limbs has left me. I need a movie, a series, more books from the author PLEASE.

5/5I

This was a very interesting book, defiantly a tear jerker and a sense of being scene. it was surely a story to be told, not everyone will appreciate it but it was defiantly needed to put out in the universe to tell the story. I was very emotional when they told a story so devastating, but still have resolved.

this was quite a confronting and really emotional read, partially because i know little of how australia handled the AIDS crisis and partially because every time I turn to queer history i’m struck but how much has been lost, and how much we are only now recovering. that said, i wish the narrators’ voices were more distinct from one another.

This is a novel about love and being who you are. While Australian author Dylin Hardcastle identifies as transmasculine, the novel is about lesbian love. The nonbinary struggle does not really surface. But we get some wonderful history through the lenses of personal/fictional stories.

We follow two women characters who survive— two limbs. Traversing the 70s and 80s in time, the story even takes us through the tragedy of AIDS/HIV. Gay and lesbian bashing, a heterosexual relationship, writing and publishing as queer, some great lesbian sex, and questions about the very word queer are all thrown into this very readable and enjoyable novel. The two stories converge in the end but I won't say how. It is beautifula nd poetic. I am glad I read it.

The Language of Limbs is a tour de force, a book I’d recommend to anyone curious about the struggles queer people have had over the past few decades and to any of us ready to remember and in the end feel the pain and the pride.

A Language of Limbs by Dylin Hardcastle | 5 Stars

Some books make you feel seen. Some reach inside you and won’t let go. “A Language of Limbs” does both—and then some.

Reading A Language of Limbs by Dylin Hardcastle is like peeling back layers of longing, love, and loss. It’s one of those rare stories that’s so beautifully written and deeply moving that, once it’s over, you’ll wish you could erase it from memory just to experience it all over again for the first time. Hardcastle doesn’t just tell a story; they build an entire universe of human connection and choice that lingers long after the final page.

The Story
Set in 1970s Newcastle and Sydney, Australia, A Language of Limbs follows two parallel lives of a teenage girl standing at a life-changing crossroads. In one version (Limb One), she runs after a kiss with her neighbor leads to rejection and exile from her family. Her escape brings her to Uranian House, a queer communal home where she discovers family and community, building a life defined by freedom and authenticity. In the alternate timeline (Limb Two), she stays the course, suppresses her desire, and heads to university, following a more “acceptable” path.

In each life, we see the same young woman struggling, growing, and searching for herself. The two versions of her life almost brush against each other, intersecting in moments of heartbreak, love, and, ultimately, a shared battle against the AIDS crisis. Through bars and protests, classrooms and hospital rooms, Hardcastle gives us a tender epic that celebrates chosen family, self-discovery, and the quiet, fierce joy that lives in the shadows of pain.

Why It’s So Powerful
This is a story about the paths we take—and the ones we don’t. The alternating “Limbs” aren’t just clever structuring; they’re emotional explorations of identity and resilience that lay bare what it means to choose love, community, and courage, even when the world doesn’t make room for you. Hardcastle’s writing is raw, poetic, and utterly honest. Each character, each moment, is crafted with such care that you feel it deeply.

Final Take
Hardcastle has given us a masterpiece that’s equal parts love letter and lament, a story about the weight of choices and the power of love and community. If you’re ready to laugh, cry, and hold on tight, A Language of Limbs will take you there. It’s a book that deserves every one of its five stars—and then some.

This is one you’ll want to keep on your shelf, reread, and treasure for years to come.

Gorgeous, heartbreaking, crying-on-the-subway worthy. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and look forward to what this author will be writing next.

Ambition. That’s what best defines A Language of Limbs.

Propulsive prose, characters you could cut yourself on their edges they feel so real, a beautiful narrative structure that runs at a breakneck pace—absolutely refusing to handhold the reader or be bogged down by needless exposition—these traits all define Dylin Hardcastle’s novel. But the one I keep coming back to, again and again, that singular word: Ambition.

Hardcastle tackles a range of subjects here—colonization, police brutality, AIDS; and the disturbing concept, the irrevocable fact, of shared minority histories being turned inside and out by archivists deemed polished and acceptable enough by a largely compliant, heteronormative, and white societal sect.

But there’s always hope. These histories will always be reclaimed. Small gestures or big ones, they all lead to a singular avalanche—eventually. And the truth will be laid bare.

There’s a confidence, a controlled rage, but A Language of Limbs brims with hope too. Hope, fragile and persevering, held up by Hardcastle’s characters. Characters who could easily give into cynicism and defeat. They don’t. And that’s the whole point. That’s how these histories are reclaimed. By those who actually lived them, those they loved, and those following after. Who, maybe—without these shared communal stories—would feel isolated and other.

Hope—transgressive, glorious. But, most importantly, needed.

(Thank you to Penguin Random House/Dutton for the arc, allowing me a chance to read this novel before its release.)

5 Stars ⭐️

I didn’t know what to expect, only that it would be painful, and god was it.

This is one of the best dual narratives I’ve read in a long time, and both are soul rending in equal measure. I know shamefully little about how the AIDS crisis hit Australia, and part of me is still shocked that the author hadn’t lived it themself for how personal each story rings.

This was INCREDIBLY written. Beautiful, lyrical, tender, and painful all in one. This is exactly the kind of book I wish high school me could've had a chance to read. I loved the double narration and the characters voices were so unique, but also so similar to one another. Two giant thumbs up!

I wanted to love this more than I actually did. I think the author pulled off describing gay yearning and angst (especially in adolescence) very well, but there was an undercurrent of forced emotion throughout that was kind of distracting for me. The pacing felt off and the ending was certainly rushed in an odd way, kind of clunkily getting us to the conclusion.
Much of the writing is beautiful and lyrical and I really appreciated a lot of the prose. The author clearly has a lot of love for these characters and wants to do the queer movement and history of this time justice. I think they are successful in accomplishing that most of the time, and I would read more works by them.

Thank you to NetGalley and Dutton for providing this arc for me to review.

This book was beautifully written. The double story about different ways that people experience coming out or struggling with their sexual identity was remarkable. The characters were deep and we were allowed to understand them deeply. This book is a must-read for anyone struggling with their identity. This healed the teenage me who felt like I didn’t belong.

what a precious, beautiful book.

this book read like an ode to the queer histories that have been both lost and intentionally erased.

this book was about queer community, how family is found amongst people similarly rejected people, both by parents who beat their kids until they leave the only homes they've ever known because they walked in on them kissing the wrong person or the guy with that disease that's been going around. you know the one, that gay disease.

we're treated to two perspectives in this story - the perspective of a girl who, when discovered to be queer, is run out of her home and has no other choice but to accept her identity as a queer person and live out her life, despite the perils of the time period. she's picked up off the side of the road by someone who recognizes what she is and why she's all alone and is brought to meet her new family, a group of queer people who share the experience of being hated by an unaccepting world.

the next perspective is from the girl she was caught kissing. and she, she decides to accept a life that is considered "normal" by marrying a nice man that her parents worried she'd never find, by planning to start a nice, nuclear family.

this book was beautiful, but it was also really painful. in fact, if i had a singular criticism of this book is that it's primarily focused on the tragedies of living queer lives and not enough on the joys of embracing identity.

also: spoiler warning - though true, the ending to this book is devastating. you're not going to find a tidy resolution, you're not going to find a happily ever after here.

This was a beautifully written novel, especially the last sentences of many of the chapters. This book was also very sad at times but uplifting as well. I enjoyed reading this a lot. I liked the style of having two alternating narrators who were very similar yet very different.

There are no words that I can possibly provide that could even come close to how profoundly moving this novel is. This book left me a sobbing mess and I had to take several breaks to gather myself before continuing.

It’s a story about love in its deepest form, grief of the most unimaginable, and how the people we choose to be in our lives impact everything in the end.

Honestly, this book was an experience that I feel everyone needs to read to understand just how beautiful words can be. It’s such an important work of literature that I don’t think will ever leave me. Dylin Hardcastle’s ability to paint such a beautiful portrait of the human soul is so visceral and honest. Truly unmatched.

Please read this book.

Thank you to Netgalley and Penguin Publishing Group for giving me the e-ARC of this lyrical masterpiece before its release date in May 2025 (US).

This book was absolutely gorgeous from start to finish. The prose flowed perfectly and, while I found the lack of quotation marks (or any discernible difference to identify dialogue) confusing several times throughout the book, it wasn’t a significant enough problem to make the book itself difficult to follow or understand.

A Language of Limbs takes place, in large part, during the 1980s, with one of the two main characters being an openly queer woman, so it’s not surprising that I sobbed several times while reading this. But while a huge part of that was because of the AIDS epidemic, there were also other heartbreaking parts.

Gorgeous. I'll admit, I struggled to connect with both the writing style and the way the book's structured, but I'm so glad I continued through it. This is some of the most beautiful prose I've ever read. I cannot wait to be shoving this book at everyone who'll listen next year. This is gonna be huge when it comes out, I can feel it.

The writing is beautiful and contemplative even as it covers a wide range of deep traumas of societal rejection. But the structure felt a little odd. Wasn't sure for the longest time if the two POVs were the same person or of two people that know each other, and ultimately I'm not sure it all came together for me. However, it painted a very vivid picture of the world and the people living and loving in a specific time and place and it was very viscerally rendered.

This was beautiful. And though the form was confusing for the first few chapters, once I fell into the rhythm, I was under the author’s spell and I loved every second I was immersed in this story.

This book resonated with me on every level. I loved the writing style and the way the story unfolded through the perspectives of two different narrators.

There were so many moments when I was completely captivated by the prose. Dylin has a gift for words that creates vivid imagery on the page. The characters' emotions are expressed so powerfully that it truly tugs at your heartstrings. Reading it felt like an exhilarating emotional rollercoaster, picking up speed with each page.

Exploring one's queer identity is a challenging journey, and I can’t even begin to imagine how much more difficult it was during a pandemic.

I loved this book.

Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for an eARC of this novel.

A raw poignant poem filled with love, lust, grieve, loss, pain and renewal. A language of limbs is a novel written like poetry, split open and broken apart showing the real and raw feelings and emotions that come with queerness.