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4.52 AVERAGE
4.52 AVERAGE
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
It’s such a cliche to refer to something as a “beautiful and raw account” of an event, but the way that Machado recounts her experience and the literary parallels she draws are beautiful and raw. Domestic abuse is something that is so personal and that affects different people in such a multitude of ways with differing severity, but I found so much of what she wrote to echo so many of my own thoughts and feelings on the other side of the tunnel that is an abusive relationship. To compound the captivating way in which she conveys her story, Machado’s ultimate point consistently chimes through: queer people are people the same and to not recognize every facet of their humanity is to do all queer folx a disservice and offers a false reality.
Reading this was intensely triggering, but Machado is a truly gifted writer and made the experience of consuming triggering media something I’d do all over again.
Reading this was intensely triggering, but Machado is a truly gifted writer and made the experience of consuming triggering media something I’d do all over again.
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Verbose and overly flowery at times (also self aware of this tendency to "wax poetic", which makes it a bit more tolerable), but a good read. I appreciate the way she broke down her history in terms of the dream house.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Domestic abuse
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
All of my favorite books from this year have seemingly dropped out of thin air, landed in my lap, and changed my life significantly. Whether it be from me scouring footnotes of an entirely different book for an anchor to hold on to (see: The Crucified God), an off-chance book pick-up from an open library at a Bloomington coffee shop (see: Ocean Sea), or the recommendation of my new principal (see: Invisible Man), books just seem to appear in my life that fundamentally change who I am and how I see the world.
This is one of those books.
Machado speaks to desire in a way that is so… viscerally relatable. Not because we share many common markers of identity (me, a cishet man and Machado, a queer woman), but because — and here I pause. I’m not entirely sure what makes Machado’s testimony of struggling with desire so compelling. Perhaps it stems from the similarities in religious upbringing. Perhaps it arose out of the unique anxieties I have about how I walk in this world, how I talk to others, and how I am perceived. Perhaps it is because I have heard so many amazing pieces of lived wisdom from so many people in my life who point to desire as something that can be acted upon, not only managed; a flower that can blossom and not only a bomb ready to explode.
For much of my adolescent and early adult life my world was hemmed by a fear of desire — this book shows a world that is constrained by a fear of *not being desired*; two different things but, nevertheless, I was awestruck regardless.
I rarely read books that make me gasp, turn away, and shudder as much as this book has. Another book that comes to mind is Conner Habib’s “Hawk Mountain,” another wonderful and disturbing story about abuse and desire wrapped together until they are almost indistinguishable in their shared chaos.
So, go read it. It will challenge you, and maybe it will make you shudder the way I did while I was reading. What a blessing — that books like this exist for readers (such as myself) to see themselves even minutely in the lives of a stranger. I am deeply grateful.
This is one of those books.
Machado speaks to desire in a way that is so… viscerally relatable. Not because we share many common markers of identity (me, a cishet man and Machado, a queer woman), but because — and here I pause. I’m not entirely sure what makes Machado’s testimony of struggling with desire so compelling. Perhaps it stems from the similarities in religious upbringing. Perhaps it arose out of the unique anxieties I have about how I walk in this world, how I talk to others, and how I am perceived. Perhaps it is because I have heard so many amazing pieces of lived wisdom from so many people in my life who point to desire as something that can be acted upon, not only managed; a flower that can blossom and not only a bomb ready to explode.
For much of my adolescent and early adult life my world was hemmed by a fear of desire — this book shows a world that is constrained by a fear of *not being desired*; two different things but, nevertheless, I was awestruck regardless.
I rarely read books that make me gasp, turn away, and shudder as much as this book has. Another book that comes to mind is Conner Habib’s “Hawk Mountain,” another wonderful and disturbing story about abuse and desire wrapped together until they are almost indistinguishable in their shared chaos.
So, go read it. It will challenge you, and maybe it will make you shudder the way I did while I was reading. What a blessing — that books like this exist for readers (such as myself) to see themselves even minutely in the lives of a stranger. I am deeply grateful.
dark
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
This is hands down one of the best books I’ve ever read. Incredible writing.
a review in my texts to reese immediately after:
“absolutely devastating and heartbreaking and so masterfully written and beautiful and woah”
“like…incredible”
“the chapter concept”
“the split between past and present with you and i”
“how she ends up with val”
“it was amazing”
“absolutely devastating and heartbreaking and so masterfully written and beautiful and woah”
“like…incredible”
“the chapter concept”
“the split between past and present with you and i”
“how she ends up with val”
“it was amazing”