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4.52 AVERAGE
4.52 AVERAGE
challenging
emotional
fast-paced
'In the Dream House' is a bold and genre defying memoir exploring domestic abuse within a queer relationship. I loved the use of second person narration and symbolic non-linear chapters - it was different to any memoir I have read before. However, while it was intellectually engaging, I was unable to emotionally connect with the story due to the constant shifts between her personal story and broader commentary. Despite its signicance and stylistic craft, the lack of narrative continuity and momentum put me into a horrendous reading slump and led me to DNF
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
Wow, c’était dur.
La construction est particulière, émaillée de recherches poussées pour trouver des études et des exemples auxquels l’autrice cherche à se raccrocher, mais aussi d’éléments de fiction, qui s’inscrivent dans la pure expression de conteuse de l’autrice, avec ce penchant pour l’horrible, le glauque, le sublime, sans oublier les notes de bas de page obscures qui racontent une histoire à leur manière.
C’était sans doute l’une des autobiographies les plus personnelles qu’il m’ait été donné de lire, que ce soit par le thème ou pour la manière dont l’autrice a engagé le travail. Je découvre une toute autre facette de celle qui n’était pour moi jusqu’ici qu’une nouvelliste prometteuse, et je suis particulièrement touchée par ce récit de survivante.
La construction est particulière, émaillée de recherches poussées pour trouver des études et des exemples auxquels l’autrice cherche à se raccrocher, mais aussi d’éléments de fiction, qui s’inscrivent dans la pure expression de conteuse de l’autrice, avec ce penchant pour l’horrible, le glauque, le sublime, sans oublier les notes de bas de page obscures qui racontent une histoire à leur manière.
C’était sans doute l’une des autobiographies les plus personnelles qu’il m’ait été donné de lire, que ce soit par le thème ou pour la manière dont l’autrice a engagé le travail. Je découvre une toute autre facette de celle qui n’était pour moi jusqu’ici qu’une nouvelliste prometteuse, et je suis particulièrement touchée par ce récit de survivante.
Blisteringly honest, gripping, and self-aware, this is much more than just a memoir. In a series of haunting vignettes, peppered with some academic, retrospective analysis, Machado examines the complexities of abusive queer relationships and the female body through the lens of her own relationship with “the woman in the dream house.” Machado dips in an out of second person, a style that is difficult to pull off, to great success, giving the visceral feeling that you are experiencing the trauma and doubt alongside her. Such a powerful, engrossing, beautifully written, and complex book.
“If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”
Unsuspecting — with no expectations or context (and thus, no inhibitions), I picked up “In The Dream House” by Carmen Maria Machado. The many thoughts, memories and feelings that accompanied me during my feverish readthrough of this novel may be too intimate to share. However, when all was said, and the house revealed itself in its monstrous entirety, all I could think was — painstakingly beautiful .
“…because I didn’t know her, not really, until I did. She was a stranger because something essential was shielded, realised in tiny bursts until it became a flood—a flood of what I realised I did not know. Afterwards, I would mourn her as if she’d died, because something had: someone we had created together.
This novel is brilliantly construed and rigs the author’s story so honestly, carefully and intimately — that you almost feel the woman of the Dream House tying the snare around your throat and pulling.
“ << My Queen >>, the letter said, << your words are very pretty. And yet they cannot obscure the simple fact that I have seen your zoo. >>”
Her use of short passages and external references made it, for lack of a better word, bearable. If I can just get through this chapter, then I live. Every segment unveiled a different corner of the Dream House—joy, sadness, fear, anger… The author conveyed the urgency and utter dread of the situation, often making me gasp for air.
“Your heart launches itself against your rib cage like an animal.”
“Hysteria and inversion, compounded like interest; an eternally growing debt.”
This book is about abuse. A filthy animal anyone can, but hopefully no one will, encounter. However, more specifically, it is about abuse in a queer relationship . Why should that matter, you ask? Machado explicates their similarity in nature, but difference in perception. An additional layer is attached to queer relationships (specifically, WLW). One deeply rooted in misogyny and oppression. The author coins the term “archival silence” and uses forgotten people and their stories to display this, often overseen, form of violence. I thank her for the insight into a topic I knew so little of.
“That is to say, queers—real life ones—do not deserve representation, protection and rights because they are morally pure or upright as a people. They deserve those things because they are human beings, and that is enough.”
“But the nature of archival silence is that certain people’s narratives and their nuances are swallowed by history; we see only what pokes through because it is sufficiently salacious for the majority to pay attention.”
Haunting. Intimate. Honest. Raw. I commend the author for telling their story.
I believe you, Carmen.
This review ends as the book begins: “If you need this book, it is for you.”.
Unsuspecting — with no expectations or context (and thus, no inhibitions), I picked up “In The Dream House” by Carmen Maria Machado. The many thoughts, memories and feelings that accompanied me during my feverish readthrough of this novel may be too intimate to share. However, when all was said, and the house revealed itself in its monstrous entirety, all I could think was — painstakingly beautiful .
“…because I didn’t know her, not really, until I did. She was a stranger because something essential was shielded, realised in tiny bursts until it became a flood—a flood of what I realised I did not know. Afterwards, I would mourn her as if she’d died, because something had: someone we had created together.
This novel is brilliantly construed and rigs the author’s story so honestly, carefully and intimately — that you almost feel the woman of the Dream House tying the snare around your throat and pulling.
“ << My Queen >>, the letter said, << your words are very pretty. And yet they cannot obscure the simple fact that I have seen your zoo. >>”
Her use of short passages and external references made it, for lack of a better word, bearable. If I can just get through this chapter, then I live. Every segment unveiled a different corner of the Dream House—joy, sadness, fear, anger… The author conveyed the urgency and utter dread of the situation, often making me gasp for air.
“Your heart launches itself against your rib cage like an animal.”
“Hysteria and inversion, compounded like interest; an eternally growing debt.”
This book is about abuse. A filthy animal anyone can, but hopefully no one will, encounter. However, more specifically, it is about abuse in a queer relationship . Why should that matter, you ask? Machado explicates their similarity in nature, but difference in perception. An additional layer is attached to queer relationships (specifically, WLW). One deeply rooted in misogyny and oppression. The author coins the term “archival silence” and uses forgotten people and their stories to display this, often overseen, form of violence. I thank her for the insight into a topic I knew so little of.
“That is to say, queers—real life ones—do not deserve representation, protection and rights because they are morally pure or upright as a people. They deserve those things because they are human beings, and that is enough.”
“But the nature of archival silence is that certain people’s narratives and their nuances are swallowed by history; we see only what pokes through because it is sufficiently salacious for the majority to pay attention.”
Haunting. Intimate. Honest. Raw. I commend the author for telling their story.
I believe you, Carmen.
This review ends as the book begins: “If you need this book, it is for you.”.
While this memoir of an abusive queer relationship is already an important story to tell, the various devices that Machado employs in telling this story makes for a one-of-a-kind reading experience. Using language and imagery based in fairy tales, she describes the abusive relationship as “being in the dream house.” In ways both ominous and humorously tongue-in-cheek, she accentuates the text with footnotes citing a text of fairy tale motifs. Additionally the use of second person—which in less skilled hands can feel gimmicky—draws the reader into the dream house with the author, making for an intimate and unforgettable read.
dark
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
dark
emotional
informative
medium-paced
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced