Reviews with content warning for Suicide - Le corps exquis

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Reviews tagging 'Suicide'

Le corps exquis by Poppy Z. Brite

102 reviews

erinmichele_reads's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

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agravereader's review against another edition

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dark sad fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix

4.5

This book is SO fucked up. So, so, so fucked up.

I loved it. Not sure what that means for me.

It was character-driven in a way I absolutely cannot resist. Four points of view from four (arguably three) terribly flawed and deranged men in their own ways, but with such love amd obsession interwoven that I felt... something? Toward them. Additionally, the AIDS commentary, specifically how the disease and the tragedy of the people who contracted HIV were treated by society was not what I was expecting from this book.

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virgilsinferno's review against another edition

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challenging dark tense

Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

5.0

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isaiahh's review against another edition

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challenging dark medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? It's complicated
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

5.0

Horror is not my preferred genre of literature (or of anything, for that matter), and gore makes me feel like my bones and organs are too big for my body. But when a book promises me unhinged gay serial killers and cannibalism, what can I do but give in?

When I say Exquisite Corpse is unhinged, please know I mean it with all my heart. It has got all the Trigger Warnings, Content Warnings—it is full of disgusting things... And I adored it.
Before writing this review, I was asking myself how to possibly do so without seeming weird myself for saying I truly, deeply enjoyed a book that deals with such dark themes. Then I reminded myself fiction is exactly that, fiction. And if reading about a gay serial killer faking his death to get out of prison and kill more boys is what floats my boat, then so be it. Reminder for everyone: what we like to read is not necessarily a reflection of our values and morals! This was my PSA!

Now, I'm obligated to tell you, ask you, BEG you, to please check TWs for this crazy little gem because it truly is full of disgusting, gruesome, vile things, some described in ghastly details.

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venpyre's review against another edition

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dark emotional reflective sad tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

It feels odd to say, but at its loamy, rotting, blackened core, Exquisite Corpse is a love story.

It was like…. if you were to take a metal detector to a polluted swamp. You’d have to drudge through the gunk and bear the claustrophobic humidity at the chance of finding even a bit of treasure. But somehow that makes what you <i>do</i> find all the more valuable? Not that anyone would advise you to go metal detecting in a swamp but I digress.

I feel like this book has aged particularly well in time for our era. In a post-NBC-Hannibal world we can more openly study depictions of love and lust in literature that splinter into death, obsession, and the need to consume/meld into one.

Brite’s ability to conjure these characters, the vilest people you could never dream up in your worst nightmares, is nothing short of astounding. Without comparing the texts too heavily (as I believe they exist for starkly different reasons) Andrew’s inner monologue reminded me somewhat of the eloquent but absolutely atrocious musings of Nabokov’s infamous protagonist, Humbert Humbert. The gleam of poetry and intelligence in the prose is enough to propel you forward despite the horrors you have to endure on page.

I wish the book was comprised mostly of Andrew’s perspective rather than switching between his and a summary of Jay. I did, however, appreciate Tran’s chapters, as it humanized him and made him much more than just an object/victim.

That being said, I’m not sure how to parse the descriptions of Asian men in this novel. While not excusing the racist remarks of the book’s characters, I did have to remind myself it was written in the 90s, and depicts the time period faithfully. The way Tran is described is undoubtedly fetishistic. That may be the point. EC treads a fine line that unfortunately holds it back from landing its otherwise graceful pirouette.

Not sure if I knew EC was splatterpunk before diving in, but I’m glad I waited until I was a little older and more versed in horror before reading it. Trigger warning for about everything imaginable and then some. Your mileage may vary to the extreme. If you feel like you can find beauty in near senseless chaos, and have the stomach for its graphic descriptions, you might enjoy Exquisite Corpse.

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menderash's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional sad tense fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

Mr Brite has a knack for writing books about horrible people doing horrible things, often for little to no reason, with minimal plot except to make the next horrible thing happen. His main characters are all murderers, rapists, cannibals, necrophiles, or the people who love them anyway. The prose is a means to an end; the end being the reader's hopeful erotic satisfaction of reading someone get nearly decapitated in vivid, lovingly described detail.

But you know what? Brite is such an emotionally charged, evocative, talented writer, that I can't help but be hypnotized by his ability to make me sit down and devour a novel in one sitting. He makes me care about the few morally sound characters even though I know something unspeakable is about to happen to them. He explores the nuance of monstrosity in his uhh. Less morally sound characters.

I think my most sound, least hypocritical criticisms of Brite's work is a) his exploitation of real victims of real tragedies and b) his handling or lack thereof of characters of color. The few non-white characters in his work are relegated to the occasional dead body, future victim, or stereotyped backdrop. Then again, considering the kind of character Brite centers as his protagonists, do I really want him, as a white man, to portray a character of color that way? I'm fine with Brite's beloved monsters being mostly white men.

TL;DR: Absolutely disgusting. Awesome ride. I've read all my Brite books I own at least twice.

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cowboylikelyn's review against another edition

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dark emotional informative mysterious relaxing sad tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

5.0

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gracehodges's review against another edition

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dark emotional tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

5.0

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f18's review against another edition

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dark emotional tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

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haloblues's review against another edition

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dark sad tense slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

God, Andrew's mentality is so obviously warped and fucked up right from the beginning. I was reading so many of the descriptions and monologues in this book with a physical GRIMACE.

Fucking Jesus. I felt sick, sad and absorbed throughout this, and I don't even know what my prevailing emotion is at this point. Just, man. Like Luke's own books, this is something you either love or hate, and I'm closer to love than the latter. Mostly I'm just reeling.

The reasons I can't justify rating it higher are:
- It is very much a product of its time, both in positive ways (the visceral and emotional look into the AIDS crisis) and, unfortunately, negative (the casual but deep racism and fetishisation, particularly toward Asians).
- There were a couple of punctuation and wording errors, for some reason generally found in Luke's chapters specifically.
- At least with the e-book version, which I read on my phone, perspective changes often wouldn't even be sign-posted with a line break, so I'd quite often be reading and get caught completely off-guard by some jarring location switch or "wait what" moment before going back and realising it was now from the POV of a different character than before.
- I found myself skimming most of Tran and Luke's sections the further in I got; I liked Luke as a character, though I found Tran fairly boring, but you can't write a book with two serial killer protagonists and then put me in the shoes of a random immigrant doing random daily things and expect me not to just really want to get back to seeing what the freshly prison-busted murderer is up to.
- I really wish Jay hadn't died at the end. It felt like his and Andrew's dynamic had only just begun, and didn't really explore the longer-term potential. Both the narrative and Andrew seemed to treat their relationship as this world-shattering, fated, destined soulmate deal, and I wanted to feel how legendary and destructive this pair could be... and then, it seemed, they met, got started, and one of them was immediately killed.

Details: Alternating POVs and tenses
Favourite character: Probably Andrew
Happy ending?: No
Additional content warnings: Necrophilia, homophobic slurs

Favourite quotes:

In Leicester Square, children of a different sort sat smoking in the park, painted children who of a Saturday might parade up and down the King's Road staring in the shop windows at zebra-striped vinyl raincoats, at Dr. Marten boots done up in purple glitter, at lace body stockings for all sexes - and at the gaudest, prettiest things of all, their own reflections in the glass.

Below the neck these children wore black, gray, and white garments of various materials and textures, held together with bits of metal. Above the neck they were like abstract paintings done in furious rainbow hues. A technicolour scribble of tortured hair, great panda-smudges of azure or chartreuse round the eyes, a slash of vermilion across the soft young mouth, and off they went.

"Anyway, you know atoms? Well, see, atoms are made of protons, neutrons, and electrons, and those are made of quarks."

"What are quarks made of, then?"

"Waves."

"Waves?" I had now finished my third pint, and was beginning to be outraged. "But waves aren't tangible. They're just disturbances."

"Vibrations, right! The whole universe is made of vibrations." He beamed, oblivious to my dismay. "Neat, huh? Anyway, we haven't been introduced yet. I'm Sam." He held out a long-fingered, smooth-palmed hand that looked very much like my own. I grasped it, half-expecting my flesh to pass ghostlike through his. After all, we were nothing but vibrations. All the stone and iron of Painswick Prison was nothing but vibrations. Had I known, I could have begun vibrating at a different frequency and gone right between the bars.

I had a last look at Sam, offered him a silent apology for not being able to linger, for leaving him alone here. Your life collided with mine, I explained, and you simply failed to survive the wreckage.

"What brings you to New Orleans?"

"The climate."

"Moral or meteorological?"

"Both."

We paused, offering noncommittal half-smiles, sizing each other up. He wasn't my usual type, and I had a hunch that I wasn't his either. Yet I didn't want him to move on, and he seemed in no hurry to go.

At last he asked me, "What's your name?"

Before, in my previous life, I'd told all the boys my real name. There had never seemed any need to do otherwise. Tonight I had been using Arthur, since none of the men who approached me were interesting. But to this man I said, "Andrew."

Then somehow we were kissing as ravenously as I had ever kissed anyone, alive or dead.

My fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging so hard it had to hurt. His tongue was in my mouth, raking against the sharp edges of my teeth, feeling as if it would plunge straight down my throat and choke me. He tasted of blood and rage. His kiss was laced with the slow savour of pain. I knew these tastes; they were the tastes in my own mouth, the flavour of my life.

I did not know what Jay was, not yet; but on some instinctual, almost biological level I recognized him. I knew then that this man was infinitely dangerous to me. I also knew that I had to go as deep inside him as he would let me.

As I stood and faced him, the expression on Jay's face was something like wonder. "What are you?" he asked.

I touched my fingers to the bead of scarlet on his throat, brought them to my lips and tasted his blood for the first time. "I'm your nightmare. Did you think you were done with nightmares now you've become one?"

I always have to laugh at writers who employ the phrase "Something snapped inside him" as a prelude to violence. The only time I ever felt anything snap inside me was the day I decided to leave prison, a sharp immediate relief like the snapping of an elastic that had constricted my heart for years. But when I saw that first drop of blood - always, when I saw the first drop of blood - something melted inside me. Like a wall of earth crumbling and dissolving in a hard rain, like a sheet of ice breaking apart and letting a river run free.

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