Just by looking at him A novel

O'Connell navigates internalized homophobia and ableism in his hysterical debut novel (after the memoir I'm Special: And Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), a ripsnorter set in Los Angeles. Elliott, the protagonist, introduces readers to his "perfect" boyfriend, Gus, whom he increasingly resents. After almost six years together, the two are in a rut of ordering takeout, drinking natural wine, and having dissociative sex. Elliott is living with cerebral palsy, and despite having a flashy job writing for television, he can't help but think "modern life is hell." After an eyebrow-raising story from his boss involving hiring a sex worker, Elliott sets off on a trip of self-sabotage turned self-discovery, as he probes his relationships with sex and his body, alcohol, disability ("I work very hard to appear palatable, easy to digest, the crostini of disability"), and his father. (Some of this may sound familiar to fans of O'Connell's Netflix series, Special.) Here, O'Connell's revelatory and charming humor adds dimension to a character who is unapologetic about his spiraling behavior despite claiming to know better. O'Connell leaves nothing on the table, and the result reads like a zippy, traffic-dodging trip up the 101 on a blinding afternoon. Agent: Kent Wolf, Neon Literary. (May)

Though he's a successful TV writer, Eliot has problems. He's been dangerously overdrinking and cheating on his loving boyfriend with a string of sex workers, and he struggles for acceptance in a world indifferent, even hostile, to his cerebral palsy. Finally, he decides that despite it all he will find a way to triumph. From Queer as Folk actor O'Connell, the Emmy-nominated creator, writer, and star of Netflix's Special, based on his memoir.

Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 My boyfriend Gus has a beautiful penis. It's big and thick without being too big or too thick. It has the right number of pulsating veins when hard (the correct number is two). It's not crooked or bent. It's not purple or pink. It's sun-dappled olive. The rest of him is great too. High cheekbones, bee-stung lips, wavy brown hair, gentle eyes. Dressed neatly in cardigans and loafers like a true hot gay nerd. But if I'm being honest, his dick is the star. I loved it from the moment I saw it. Not like I was surprised. My best friend Augie dated Gus before me. "Elliott, if God is real, he's a fag," he told me. "A straight God would never make a penis this detailed and expressive. It's like the 'Beach House' episode of Girls . A work of art." I made a mental note. At the time I was dating someone else, someone whose penis I can no longer remember. His name was Hudson, which can you imagine? Yikes. Anyway, we dated for three months and Augie dated Gus for four, which was generous of him really. He was doing the prep work, getting him ready for me. And when I broke up with Hudson, there Gus was. My brain, which previously had been an unsafe neighborhood to walk around in at night, had carved out a nice space for him when I wasn't looking. It allowed me to have a nice patch of grass and sunshine, a Whole Foods even. And for five years, we were together, and everything was perfect. I don't even know how to write about this without slipping into platitudes, so I won't. I will say, however, that even with the best love, you could still wake up one day next to a beautiful man with a beautiful penis and be bored. You could start wishing for a smaller penis, an uglier one, with tons of veins and the color of sickness. Everything gets boring after a while. The sun eventually goes down, the Whole Foods closes, and suddenly you're in a scary alleyway. For the record: my penis is average. Excerpted from Just by Looking at Him: A Novel by Ryan O'Connell All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.