The introduction of Second Person Queer, the companion to the Lambda Award-winning First Person Queer, informs readers that the new volume is meant to be “a mirror of who you are, or perhaps the person you would most like to be.” Assembling 40 writers of varying persuasions (from gay to trans to bi to butch to everything in between), the essay anthology covers a wide range of topics, including coming out, S&M, and how to become a gay celebrity.

At its best, second-person narration can be an effective (and inviting) way to engage the reader, creating a sense of intimacy. Stacey May Fowles’ “You Are Here” puts you in the role of a confused bisexual. R.M. Vaughan’s “You Bear, Me Jane” points out that when it comes to body image, you’re a hypocritical jerk. And no person (male or female, straight or not) could read S. Bear Bergman’s “An Apology to My Mother” and not feel a tug on their heartstrings. Especially in minority writing, second person can pack a helluva punch.

But at other times, the second-person approach ends up feeling like being stuck at a party with someone who talks at you, rather than with you. Sections of Second Person Queer made me wonder whether I was reading a book of essays or a how-to manual. Writers provide advice on all kinds of things (why I should have sex on the first date, that marrying someone for a green card is never a good idea, and that, as the host of a women’s play­party, I should always offer my guests condoms, gloves, and lube), but much of this leaves a reader feeling uninvolved and abandoned on the sidelines.

My main beef with anthologies is the quality versus quantity issue. As a reader, I don’t need a lot. But I do need good. And I need consistency. Perhaps if the anthology’s editors had cut the number of contributors in half and given the stronger writers a few more pages to shine, the book would have greater resonance.