Dan Savage's sex column Savage Love dispenses advice to typical (and often extremely atypical) letter-writers with an enjoyably cynical attitude toward love and happiness. But don't be fooled: Beneath Savage's callous, insensitive exterior lies a man with a strong moral center. Sure, he's a self-proclaimed fag, and as such is expected to toe a liberal line, but Savage has a soft spot for certain family values favored by conservatives, including child-rearing. Savage himself is the product of a broken home, and he seems to respect the importance of a solid, two-parent family structure. Being gay, of course, Savage doesn't care if both parents are of the same gender, as long as the child is raised in a hospitable and loving environment. Yet The Kid is no second-hand illustration of parenting: In his first book (not counting an anthology of his columns), Savage himself takes the plunge and, with his boyfriend Terry, decides to adopt a child. While Savage's column has a laissez faire quality to it, his occasional essays reveal his firm political convictions. But the funniest thing about The Kid is the way it smartly skirts a should-gays-be-allowed-to-adopt debate in favor of (relatively) straight storytelling, at once illustrating that sexual orientation should not be (and is not) an issue while relaying the trials, challenges, and obstacles of the adoption process faced by all prospective parents. Under the open adoption policies of Oregon, where Savage and his boyfriend go baby-shopping, the adoptive parents keep in close contact with the biological mother—in their case, a Seattle gutter-punk named Melissa who lives on the streets with her pets, scrounges for spare change, and sullenly cooperates with the men who will soon take her child from her. The process moves quickly, and Savage stays funny, though his trademark sarcasm and tasteless humor is tempered by the fact that he and his partner will soon be fathers. While Savage never really gets around to saying why he wants kids—the book deal and a guaranteed future funeral audience are just two of his semi-truthful reasons—it's clear from his nervous prose and distancing tactics that he looks forward to sharing his love and growing old with his boyfriend and child. By the time the story reaches birthing, baby, and bawling, Savage can no longer resist sentimentality, but isn't that what parenthood is all about?