This Time for Me

I’ll be honest: I wasn’t prepared for how *much* Alexandra Billings’ narration would feel like sitting across from her at a dive bar at 2 a.m., three drinks deep, while she tells you the story of her life. Her voice—husky, warm, and capable of shifting from a whisper to a roar in a single breath—is the kind of instrument that makes audiobooks feel like an intimate performance. There’s a moment in Chapter 7 where she describes her first time performing as a woman onstage, and her voice cracks just slightly; it’s the kind of detail that would read as melodramatic on the page but feels *earned* in her telling. That’s the magic of this audiobook: Billings doesn’t just recount her life; she *embodies* it. That said, the pacing isn’t always perfect. The early chapters about her childhood in the cult are gripping, but the middle section meanders a bit, jumping between Hollywood anecdotes and deeper reflections without always landing the transitions. And while her humor is one of the book’s strongest assets (her impression of a clueless casting director is *chef’s kiss*), there are times when the jokes undercut the weight of the moment. But these are minor quibbles in what is otherwise a triumph of memoir-as-art. The final hour, where she ties her personal journey to the broader fight for trans rights, is so powerful it left me sitting in my car long after I’d parked, unwilling to hit pause. If you’re looking for a memoir that’s as much about the *craft* of storytelling as it is about the story itself, this is it. Just maybe don’t listen in public—you *will* laugh, cry, or both.