Reviews with content warning for Medical content - The Argonauts

This is a beautifully written memoir of Nelson's relationship with her trans partner Harry, her stepson and their new baby. As a queer feminist in what can be mistaken as a heteronormative family, Nelson explores issues of gender, queerness, feminism, family and motherhood.

I thought it had really interesting perspectives about being queer, feminist and shunning societal norms while cherishing love and family. Rightfully so, a lot of feminism focusses on empowering women and genderqueer people to be single and child-free, to not be stuck in unfulfilling and unequal relationships, and to find and cherish love elsewhere. But for people who do seek and find love through their romantic partner and children, I think it is important to consider how to do these things in a way that does not simply reinforce the hetero status quo. This is something Nelson grapples with, while portraying how she and Harry have approached things.

At some parts in the middle I found the writing and references to other scholars a bit dense. Nevertheless, I overall appreciated the rich, aesthetic literary writing style, which is perhaps more common in fiction than memoirs.

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steveatwaywords's review against another edition

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challenging emotional inspiring reflective medium-paced

5.0

Nelson's "autotheory" memoir has already been praised by many, so I will echo the analysis: this is a remarkably intimate and scholarly work, synthesizing subjects often avoided and even cautioned against. Progressive and stark, Nelson takes on a tour of her dynamic and at times uncertain domestic life--her partner's transition, her own sexuality, the death of a parent, the murder of a sister, the entangling estrangement of pregnancy and child-rearing--and twines it with the threads of literary and gender theory: Sedgwick, Butler, Lacan, Foucault, Lambert, Wittig, Carson, Winnicott, and a host of others. The result is evocative, explicit, inspiring, reverential, and sobering.

This book is not easily navigable. While written in fragmentary pieces, the narrative is delivered in its entirety, a submersion of its whole, and one wonders at its turnings. Nelson writes while on a subway, at a cafe, surrounded by tumult, but what she offers is insular and contained, a cerebral dissection of her own life and how words, language, people shift. Derrida remarked that he wondered most about the sex lives of philosophers. Nelson has here made a powerful bridge (more a marriage) between the abstraction of teleology and the workings of body.

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maess's review against another edition

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adventurous emotional hopeful informative inspiring reflective sad medium-paced

4.75

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softanimal's review against another edition

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emotional reflective slow-paced

5.0

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garynoplastie's review against another edition

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reflective slow-paced

3.75

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suspicious_salmon's review

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challenging emotional reflective slow-paced

3.25

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dylan2219's review against another edition

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adventurous challenging emotional informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

4.0

I mostly enjoyed this book, and I think because it is imperfect. I also respect it a lot, not only for its boldness and intimacy, but because I think Maggie Nelson is willing to be messy, contradictory, and occasionally wrong in ways that writers are often afraid of. This book is essentially a long meditation on various interlocking themes, always personal, but equally tied to big-picture concerns like sexuality, gender, language, love that writers always try to nail the final word on. Nelson never does, she knows she can’t, so she instead invites us to watch her try her best. That means some parts of the book are bizarre, far-fetched, obscure, cringeworthy, or wrong. But there are moments of brilliance and beauty, and I think these require the mistakes, I never wanted them edited out. I read this book quickly, and thus there’s a lot in it that I can’t really unpack and some things that I personally don’t think I know enough to comment on. I learnt a lot, though, and I think this is best read quickly and fluidly – to take “the pleasure of abiding” as Nelson puts it – rather than trying hard to work through Nelson’s thoughts given that they are often scattershot, instinctual, repetitive, and subject matter shifts sometimes within a paragraph. If this book has a form, it’s a tangent, or a series of tangents that are networked together by ideas, feelings, or sometimes just the sound or texture of the words. This builds, however, to a really stunning conclusion, where Nelson smartly hones in on two life-defining moments for herself and her partner, and crystallises her concerns imperfectly – she admits as much – but with emotional heft and clarity.

Two things I took away particularly:

- This book deals with subjects and experiences many people – myself included – aren’t really connected to personally (at least not yet) and its very intellectually dense, but I never felt that Nelson was talking down to her reader, instead she’s insanely empathetic and intimate, and she doesn’t wave her (genuinely) “radical” behaviour as something unattainable or fashionable. She gives the impression of almost falling into things by accident, as a consequence of following her instincts and desires, and that makes the book so much more accessible, fun(ny), and meaningful

- Given that this is lots of personal anecdotes and stories, and that Nelson tries to tie them to bigger ideas, this can come across as self-indulgent to some, the classic mistake of thinking your own experiences are the experience of everyone. But Nelson isn’t afraid to show herself as occasionally ignorant, solipsistic, or narcissistic in her feelings and ideas. For her, this is part of the messy process of trying to understand things that are new to you, you make mistakes. By including these elements I felt instead that she was capturing a rare kind of self-effacement, the inherent difficulty in trying to relate one’s personal life and feelings to “theories” or ideas that are apparently meant to explain them, or radical demands that completely upend our conception of them. A lot of writers – especially academics - instead write with knowledge presumed, or as if it just isn’t very difficult for others to accept what they are saying: this appears to be objective, but is actually pretty arrogant. Nelson definitely believes the personal is political, but equally, that any text that is going to deal with these terrifyingly human aspects of ourselves – love, sex, childbirth, parenting, discrimination, violence, desire - requires the repeated challenges of “lived experience” as academics like to call it, hence you’re back to the drawing board, the tangents and the concentric circles of the ideas that now feel much more humble, relevant, and achieveable.

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skippyfitzroy's review against another edition

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emotional informative reflective medium-paced

3.5

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