Scan barcode
A review by lilkstew
Dykette by Jenny Fran Davis
2.5
Jenny Schecter, is that you?
I don't even know where to begin with this book. The opening certainly captures my attention with the Grinch nudes, but the shock factor wears off quickly after the third attempt at catching the reader off guard with bizarre references or questions. Even the body horror at the end falls so flat because it tries so hard to be transgressive and thought-provoking. It isn't, though.
I don't usually mind autofiction or think it's a bad thing, but this instance is too much for me. Dykette had the mark of Iowa's MFA allllll over it (and not in a splendid way). The pug. The pink. The self-importance. The article. The thirsting after the totally-not-Rachel-Maddow character. Idk, this book is marketed as a thoughtful, insightful look into contemporary butch/femme dynamics, but I think this book has such an ungrounded viewpoint that it feels shallow.
I read another review that described the book as an argument that someone has in their head, which felt so true. But I think that this book specifically reads like the arguments that that HRH Collection girl has with herself. I know she's horrible, but that's exactly how the pacing and neuroticism of the book come across.
Also, whenever there is a long description of someone's outfit, it feels very similar to My Immortal. It's actually uncanny. It's all very "I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings." It seriously makes me wonder if Jenny Fran Davis was inspired by that fanfiction.
Anyways, if you are looking for a snapshot into the mind of a modern-day Bushwick version of Jenny from season 6 of The L Word, perhaps you will love this book. I, personally, do not think it's a book that has earned itself the status of a staple of lesbian literature.
I don't even know where to begin with this book. The opening certainly captures my attention with the Grinch nudes, but the shock factor wears off quickly after the third attempt at catching the reader off guard with bizarre references or questions. Even the body horror at the end falls so flat because it tries so hard to be transgressive and thought-provoking. It isn't, though.
I don't usually mind autofiction or think it's a bad thing, but this instance is too much for me. Dykette had the mark of Iowa's MFA allllll over it (and not in a splendid way). The pug. The pink. The self-importance. The article. The thirsting after the totally-not-Rachel-Maddow character. Idk, this book is marketed as a thoughtful, insightful look into contemporary butch/femme dynamics, but I think this book has such an ungrounded viewpoint that it feels shallow.
I read another review that described the book as an argument that someone has in their head, which felt so true. But I think that this book specifically reads like the arguments that that HRH Collection girl has with herself. I know she's horrible, but that's exactly how the pacing and neuroticism of the book come across.
Also, whenever there is a long description of someone's outfit, it feels very similar to My Immortal. It's actually uncanny. It's all very "I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings." It seriously makes me wonder if Jenny Fran Davis was inspired by that fanfiction.
Anyways, if you are looking for a snapshot into the mind of a modern-day Bushwick version of Jenny from season 6 of The L Word, perhaps you will love this book. I, personally, do not think it's a book that has earned itself the status of a staple of lesbian literature.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual violence and Body horror