challenging dark informative reflective fast-paced

Plenty of merit. A highly relevant and deeply insightful reflection of modern art consumption and the sense of self and identity in a consumerism-driven culture.
Does not answer its own thesis so much as reflect the sentiments of many. Could do with stronger interrogation of capitalism and how we view consumerism as political power.

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Dederer has one particular monster in mind that she wants to face through a labyrinth of love of the work, and hate of the crimes of the artist. A deliberate, clear-eyed and important work on being a feminist artist, a feminist audience, and a monster. Dederer wants to untangle her audience relationship with Polanski, for me I came to this book with the monster of Gaiman in mind. I wrote my dissertation on his work, I wept with joy at the Sandman tv adaptation, and last year it was revealed he's an abuser like so many other powerful monstrous men. Today I found out another victim's come forward and he's an exceptionally monstrous man. Dederer's book would be welcome if it only commiserated with the reader on the hurt that follows when monstrous artists are revealed. But it is more than comfort, it's an insightful vital piece of criticism on how we relate to art, and that it wouldn't hurt so much if there was not love at the heart of it.

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challenging emotional reflective medium-paced

I needed to read this book to try to work through The Gaiman Problem that has been tormenting me since I heard about the allegations against him. Dedera explores the complicated muddle of art and artist, love and hate, how the biographies of artist and consumer intersect. No definite answers - because we are all human and all interactions and choices are made by human fallibility. 

I found a couple of chapters frustrating, specifically the ones that discuss the topic of what makes a female monster, in a book mostly looking at male violence and the patriarchy. These two chapters seemed out of place, and the standards are different - mostly concerning motherhood. Of course, this is kind of the point...

The book is not perfect, but it gave me a little peace. There is grace here, and that is so desperately needed in this complicated, messed-up world where the monsters are as human as we are. No more, no less.

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Dederer poses questions we’ve all pontificated on at the dinner table...can you separate the art from the artist? Are some transgressions worse than others? How do we live with the monsters?

Her answers take us on a journey through the works of easily recognised monsters such like Polanski, questions the opaque nature of artists such as Nabokov and even flirts with the monstrous nature of women who do not sacrifice themselves to the altar of their children.

The work explores how modern consumption gives rise to these dilemmas, how gender intersects in the realm of monsters, the ways in which late capitalism falsely lays the responsibility of deciphering the morality on the consumer. 

Ultimately leaving the reader to question their own foibles, how these came about and how the can be reconciled with their goodness.

Dederer’s exploration of biography is inextricably intertwined with her own biography elevating the subjective, an idea she excavates from the reproach of the critics often cited throughout this work.

I found myself talking back to this book as I listened, and not always in agreement. It was not a book I could leave on the bedside table, but rather found myself weaving into daily conversation. 

Monsters will leave you with more questions than answers, as is the mark of a work that makes you think deeply. 

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dark emotional reflective medium-paced

"What do we do with great art by bad people?"

I often wonder if I should abandon the art of monsters. So many artists that I've enjoyed have turned out to be "monsters" as the author puts it. The author struggles with this question throughout the memoir and we eventually learn about her own monstrosity. If you're looking for a framework or a calculator to tell you how bad is too bad to enjoy, this book is not for you.

I loved her musings on monsters, especially the bit about the staining of art. It's true, when you learn about the artist it can ruin, or stain, the art, but not always. It's interesting to wonder why that is. I have an easier time blotting out the stain in certain cases and in others, I cannot.  I've never watched Polanski's movies but now I am curious, would I be able to enjoy them knowing his history? After learning about Marion Zimmer Bradley and her sexual abuse against her own and other children, I couldn't fathom reading her books. Will I be able to watch the Scream franchise after they ousted Melissa Barrera for supporting Palestine? Is the whole franchise stained? Can I watch Stranger Things now that I know Will Byers is an avid Zionist and supporter of the genocide in Palestine?

How much monstrosity is too much monstrosity? Can I separate the art from the artist? Should I? 

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challenging informative medium-paced

This is a question that I grapple with myself, and this book made me reflect on my own thoughts and complicated feelings about loving the work of monstrous people. However, after the first half, the book started spinning in circles, and became repetitive and rambling. It was a slog reading through the monstrous mothers chapter(s?), which was way longer (or  felt so) than any other section. 

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challenging hopeful informative inspiring medium-paced

An essential read for anyone interested in culture and how we approach work by problematic creators. Chapter 8 was an absolute knockout, amid a sea of thundering reflections. Pacing dipped very slight l about two-thirds in but picked right up again soon after.

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challenging hopeful slow-paced

I found this depressingly disappointing. From the off, I was on my guard due to the author’s propensity to ask bizarre questions (such as “does self-harm count as a ‘monstrous’ action” - um no, wtf?!), use outdated and offensive language, and generally exude the attitude that her ability to consume art by monsters makes her some kind of superior being. And then I come to realise that at least half of the book centres on the most “monstrous” behaviour that women can exhibit: abandoning their children. This is despite Dederer’s claim that she dislikes art that focuses on pregnancy or children, as well as her accurate identification that men frequently abandon their children with absolutely 0 consequences. Not only did I find this bizarre, it took the book off track in terms of what I thought its theme/purpose was (establishing what we do with the great art by bad people), and - in my opinion - alienates readers who don’t have and/or don’t want children. Which leaves me with the feeling that I’ve somewhat wasted my time in reading a book which equates alcoholism and child-abandoning with serious sexual assault… 

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