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A review by housecatstewart
Deep House by Jeremy Atherton Lin
emotional
funny
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.5
“Any time quite so many queers file into the chambers of the Supreme Court, opportunities present themselves for moments of high camp.”
Reading this as someone born in 1992, the story feels both familiar and distant. I was old enough to see some of these things as they happened, but young enough still to be totally ignorant to their gravity. When I was a teenager in Metro Detroit, aware of my own sexual identity but too terrified then to admit it (let alone explore it), I remember thinking same-sex marriage was so inevitable. Every person I knew was in favor of it (every person I knew was a teenage emo, art kid, or my mom), and I could not even fathom why it was such an issue for some other people (the president and my dad). Between 2006 and 2010, my high school had a thriving GSA and an out lesbian prom queen. Hilary Duff was advising the world to cease using homophobic epithets. My ex boyfriend had a crush on my current boyfriend. It felt like queer acceptance was all around me—and therefore inevitable. When same-sex marriage was legalized in the US in 2015, I remember thinking, “FINALLY,” as though the only thing hindering it all those years was the slow wheels of government bureaucracy. Reading this book puts the most interesting juxtaposition into frame for me—what a privilege to have been so ignorant and surrounded by so much acceptance.
Where Lin especially shines in this book is his sense of balance. I laughed, I cried, I grimaced—all at regular intervals. He has a wonderful ability to create these educational vignettes that ultimately leave me weeping every other chapter. His own love story interwoven throughout provides much needed levity and tenderness at times, though many of his personal stories take you on an emotional rollercoaster all their own.
The shortest chapter, and a standout for me, is chapter eleven: Leaves Like Twinks. It draws immediately to mind a Richard Siken poem, and it offers a compelling break in Lin’s otherwise steady structure. Definitely one to go back and re-read.
Having finished Deep House, I feel the same as I did when I finished Gay Bar: I want to read everything Jeremy Atherton Lin has read. I want to have heard all the same music and seen all the same art. I want to be so earnest, so educated, and so funny. So this is my open plea to you, Jeremy Atherton Lin: drop your summer reading list.
Reading this as someone born in 1992, the story feels both familiar and distant. I was old enough to see some of these things as they happened, but young enough still to be totally ignorant to their gravity. When I was a teenager in Metro Detroit, aware of my own sexual identity but too terrified then to admit it (let alone explore it), I remember thinking same-sex marriage was so inevitable. Every person I knew was in favor of it (every person I knew was a teenage emo, art kid, or my mom), and I could not even fathom why it was such an issue for some other people (the president and my dad). Between 2006 and 2010, my high school had a thriving GSA and an out lesbian prom queen. Hilary Duff was advising the world to cease using homophobic epithets. My ex boyfriend had a crush on my current boyfriend. It felt like queer acceptance was all around me—and therefore inevitable. When same-sex marriage was legalized in the US in 2015, I remember thinking, “FINALLY,” as though the only thing hindering it all those years was the slow wheels of government bureaucracy. Reading this book puts the most interesting juxtaposition into frame for me—what a privilege to have been so ignorant and surrounded by so much acceptance.
Where Lin especially shines in this book is his sense of balance. I laughed, I cried, I grimaced—all at regular intervals. He has a wonderful ability to create these educational vignettes that ultimately leave me weeping every other chapter. His own love story interwoven throughout provides much needed levity and tenderness at times, though many of his personal stories take you on an emotional rollercoaster all their own.
The shortest chapter, and a standout for me, is chapter eleven: Leaves Like Twinks. It draws immediately to mind a Richard Siken poem, and it offers a compelling break in Lin’s otherwise steady structure. Definitely one to go back and re-read.
Having finished Deep House, I feel the same as I did when I finished Gay Bar: I want to read everything Jeremy Atherton Lin has read. I want to have heard all the same music and seen all the same art. I want to be so earnest, so educated, and so funny. So this is my open plea to you, Jeremy Atherton Lin: drop your summer reading list.