Jericho Brown & P. D. James | Mini Reviews

The New Testament by Jericho Brown
Published by Picador, 2014
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The New Testament features one of the best opening poems I’ve encountered in a collection. It was the strength of this alone that convinced me to pick up the book, and though none of the other poems quite reached the dizzy heights of the first, I’m delighted to have discovered Brown’s work. Drawing on mythology, fairy tales, and Bible stories to comment on queerness, race, masculinity, and family, Brown’s use of language and imagery is bold and evocative. The poems I connected with on a personal level hit me in the gut, whilst others engaged in a deeply human, empathetic, and enlightening way. To create poems that lay bare raw emotion and individual experience, and yet provoke such social and political resonance is a real skill, but Brown pulls it off here with aplomb.

You can pick up a copy of The New Testament from Book Depository by clicking here.

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The Victim by P. D. James
Published by Faber & Faber, 2019
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

As I started reading this slim Faber Stories volume, I realised I had already read the story as part of a full collection by James. I was more than happy to revisit it, however. It offers strangely serene yet disquieting insight into the mind of a killer, who spends more than a year methodically plotting the perfect murder of his ex-wife’s new lover. This in itself makes for a compelling enough narrative, but it also poses interesting questions about power and obsession: If your very existence is sustained by the need for revenge, will exacting it ever be enough to feel satisfied? Per James’ signature style, there’s also a small yet clever twist at the end, which adds another perspective to the story and forces us to reconsider who the true victim is. A great little read.

You can pick up a copy of The Victim from Book Depository by clicking here.

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Blue is the Warmest Color by Julie Maroh | Book Review

Blue is the Warmest Color by Julie Maroh (translated from the French by Ivanka Hahnenberger)
Published by Arsenal Pulp Press, 2013 (first published in 2010)
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

It has to be said that this queer coming of age graphic novel isn’t exactly the most original offering when it comes to its narrative arc. On the contrary, it hits pretty much every clichéd beat that you’d expect: A charismatic and proud lesbian helps a repressed, closeted girl to come out; they embark on a passionate love affair; life tears them apart, and just as they are about to reunite and live happily ever after, one of them dies. And don’t worry, that’s not a spoiler. Page one opens with Emma reading a letter left to her by the recently deceased Clementine, asking her to read through her diaries. The rest of the story is thus framed as Emma looking back on their time together from her late lover’s perspective.

Why, then, have I rated this so highly? First off, the artwork is a major factor in the impact and lasting impression of any graphic novel, and in this case, it’s excellent. The images are rich and expressive; the use of colour smart and highly effective. I also love the thematic emphasis the book puts on the importance of good allies. Most queer stories focus purely on self-acceptance, and whilst that is a significant aspect of Clementine’s journey, Maroh shows us that true self-acceptance isn’t possible unless we feel valued and accepted by those around us. Though a couple of threads feel somewhat rushed or underdeveloped, she explores the idea of self-destruction brought about through a lack of inner peace with ourselves and our loved ones. As such, the emotional payoff feels earned, even if it’s not the freshest take on a gay love story.

Ultimately, Blue is the Warmest Color works because it’s presented with a lot of heart. Having first picked it up a few years back, I’m glad I decided to revisit it.

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If you’d like to read Blue is the Warmest Color, you can pick up a copy from Book Depository by clicking here. If you’ve already read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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Animals Eat Each Other by Elle Nash | Book Review

Animals Eat Each Other by Elle Nash
Published by 404 Ink, 2019
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

In Elle Nash’s unflinching debut, we follow a young woman on a downwards spiral of self-destruction as she embarks on a three-way relationship with an established couple. As the dynamic becomes more complex and involved, and the line between the physical and the emotional begins to blur, she loses her grip on her sense of self, consumed by her need for their approval.

Our protagonist remains unnamed throughout, aside from the ominous moniker given to her by her new sexual partners – Lilith. This reflects the sense of distance they wish to maintain, but also her own lack of identity and meaning, as she uses her body to seek validation in all the wrong places. Beyond her increasing reliance on alcohol and drugs, the book goes on to examine the perils of obsession and addiction. With her own self-loathing becoming more and more apparent, it seems that she craves the pain both physical and emotional that comes from being used and abused, as though degrading herself is a form of punishment, or a distraction from the void inside herself.

There are undoubtedly those who will feel our flawed heroine’s behaviour and frankness dip into the vulgar, and as such, it’s the kind of read I’d be hesitant to recommend widely, despite my appreciation for its raw, striking, and perceptive exploration of its themes. The stripped-down prose and entirely unsentimental approach to her mental state really do pack a punch, however. The book itself has an almost hazy, claustrophobic quality, perfect given the subject matter. And though I read it across a few sittings, it’s a book I think would benefit from submitting yourself to entirely.

Featuring one of the most instantly engrossing openings I’ve ever read, and a perfectly pitched ending, this is a book guaranteed to split opinion, but an undoubted gem when it’s in the right hands.

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If you’d like to give Animals Eat Each Other a go, you can pick up a copy from Book Depository by clicking here. If you’ve already read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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I’m Afraid of Men by Vivek Shraya | Book Review

I’m Afraid of Men by Vivek Shraya
Published by Penguin Canada, 2018
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Phenomenal. This book should be required reading. To say so much, so succinctly, about the pervasive harm of masculine energy, whilst offering hope for a better future, is frankly awe inspiring.

I am neither trans nor a person of colour, as Shraya is. For that reason, I would never deign to suggest I understand the extent of fear and suppression she has experienced. That said, as a gay man, I still felt so seen by this book. I don’t hate that I’m gay, but I hate that being gay makes me constantly police my own body language, appearance, and behaviour, through fear of ridicule, aggression and intimidation (all of which I have experienced as a queer person). I’ve never seen an author capture so eloquently and vividly how exhausting and frustrating it is to feel compelled to live your life this way, nor the kind of self-loathing it incites. This, in itself, helps to systematically uphold the patriarchy, the fear teaching us to publicly reject the parts of ourselves that ascribe to traditional feminine norms.

The use of direct address when relaying stories lends the book an intense immediacy. I also adored how nuanced and intersectional it is. No one is spared their rightful lampooning, with Shraya highlighting the kind of prejudices brought on by life under a misogynistic regime that plague us all: The gay men who are repulsed by the thought of vaginas; cis people who refuse to accept their trans counterparts; the ones who invalidate bisexual relationships; the straight women who have internalised misogyny to such an extent that they actively uphold heteronormative societal roles, and stand by in the face of injustice.

The book is also very self-aware, Shraya pointing out that queer and non-conforming people don’t want pity, and shouldn’t have to share experiences of trauma to earn respect or understanding. And yet, here we are, the shock of reality sometimes all we have to fall back on to be given a platform or taken seriously.

Shraya ultimately asks us to destroy the pedestal that upholds the concept of ‘The Good Man’. With the standard of ‘goodness’ in cis/straight men set so low, it excuses the failings of the typical man. We all have to strive for better. By dismissing gendered expectations, we will all be free to explore and express ourselves as individuals. After all, if there are no set roles to conform to, there can be no fear of non-conformity.

Frank, compact, perceptive, and eye-opening, I implore you all to read this absolute gem.

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If you’d like to pick up a copy of I’m Afraid of Men (and again, I can’t urge you strongly enough to do so), you can find a copy of it with free shipping by clicking here. If you’ve already read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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XX by Angela Chadwick | Book Review

From here on, I’ve decided to start posting full, individual reviews on my blog, rather than just combined wrap ups. But without further ado, here are some thoughts on my most recent read.

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XX by Angela Chadwick
Published by Dialogue Books, 2018
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

XX follows Jules and Rosie as they become the world’s first participants in a new clinical trial that will allow two women to conceive a child, using ovum-to-ovum fertilisation. Hailed by some as a breakthrough for queer couples, others see it as a catalyst for a vast population shift – as, given the genetics involved, the technique can only produce baby girls. Set against a backdrop of fierce political backlash, and media scaremongering, the couple must contend with a tirade of hatred, paranoia, and betrayal, alongside the usual fears that come with looming parenthood.

This is the best kind of speculative fiction, in that the scientific elements of the story feel only just out of reach. The political and social landscape could have been lifted from today’s newspapers; the breakthrough in fertility treatment one that may well be on the horizon. It makes the book’s musings on the morality involved in science versus nature, and the role of the media in shaping the public’s perception all the more topical. I also like that the argument as to whether this advancement is leading us towards a utopia or a dystopia is entirely open to debate.

For all the big questions raised by the subject matter, however, I was pleased that it finds time for an insular look at the central couple’s relationship. This allowed Chadwick to bring a further layer of depth to the narrative, exploring the idea of class divides. Jules, a local journalist, has grafted her entire life to work her way up from poor beginnings, whilst Rosie was born into a decidedly more privileged family. Despite being liberal in their social views, it becomes increasingly clear that both possess their own inherent prejudices against the other’s class, and feel an odd sense of loyalty to their own; a friction that no amount of love or social-ladder climbing can ever fully erase.

Given that this is, in many ways, a book about yearning for parenthood, it was refreshing to see some discussion on the pressure that women feel to become a mother, even if it’s not necessarily what they want. There is, however, a slight whisper of the ‘you just don’t get it until you have kids’ attitude, which can be patronising. Though, I suppose that’s to be expected given the topic at hand, and the circumstances/outlook of certain characters. My other small gripes are an overly neat epilogue that I’m not sure was necessary, and a nod towards the melodramatic at times, with someone holding back tears on just about every other page (a repetition that I feel an editor should have flagged up).

This is an altogether timely and thought-provoking, though surprisingly subtle, character driven story that ultimately asks us to consider what makes a family, and if our beginnings (from where we are born, to our very DNA) truly shape the person we are. I flew through this, and would love to hear other people’s thoughts on it.

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Let’s Recommend | Transgender Books

Let’s recommend some transgender books.

For the latest post in my recommendation series, I’ll be highlighting some of my favourite books to include transgender characters, or to explore trans-issues. With discussion on gender at large very much needed, and the normalisation of difference key in opening up those channels of conversation, I think we could all stand to read about experiences that differ from our own. That said, I tried to include a diverse mix of books that will hopefully appeal to a wide readership; trans, cis, young, old, or otherwise.

Trumpet by Jackie Kay

The subject matter explored in Trumpet could very easily have seen the story slip into undo sensationalism, but the care and compassion that Kay grants the characters stops that from ever happening. The story centres around Joss, a publicly respected musician and family-man who is discovered only upon death to have been biologically female. We see the way various people who knew Joss and members of the public react to the revelation, but at its core, this is a heartfelt story about love. Joss’ widow, Millie, is a fantastically well-realised character, and through her, Kay shows us that we fall in love with a person, not the body they are in. The confusion and bitterness felt by their son is also heavily explored, but from an unexpected angle that I really appreciated.

The Gender Games by Juno Dawson

This is a great piece of own-voice non-fiction from a transgender author who is frank, funny and informative. Dawson mixes fact with personal experience in this quasi-memoir, exploring gender as a concept. This includes looking at the ways we subconsciously force expectations on children from birth (and why this is bad for everyone), and sharing honest stories about her own experiences whilst transitioning. She also touches on the differences she has encountered between living as a man and living as a woman. The book educates without ever bogging you down in stats, and has enough cutting-quips and brilliant pop-culture references to keep you laughing throughout.

The Sunlight Pilgrims by Jenni Fagan

An impending Ice Age forms the backdrop of this quiet, character driven tale that is set in a caravan park in Scotland. It focusses on the lives of three lost souls as they strive to find their place in a world they no longer understand. One of those characters is Stella, a feisty, brave, inquisitive, witty and headstrong trans girl. She forms the nucleus of the whole book, and I thought the looming grip of puberty which will transform her body in ways she fears more than anything was mirrored beautifully in the menacing spread of lethal ice and snow across the landscape. She also has a wonderful relationship with her mother, which is another real highlight of the book.

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

As much as it’s important to read books that fully shine the light on trans characters and issues, I think it’s also important that books exist in which trans people (and other minority groups) are simply presented like any other character, in which their gender identity is never the focus or point of the story, and they just so happen to be trans in the spirit of true, reflective diversity. This is very much the case with Eriko in Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen. Though she’s a supporting character with a relatively small role, she’s instantly endearing and charismatic. I loved that both her son and the book’s heroine never question her gender identity, and are instead completely laid-back and accepting about it. It’s simply never an issue. This kind of normalisation through fiction is vital.

George by Alex Gino

Seeing yourself reflected in the books you read as a child can be a profoundly powerful experience. That’s why I’m so glad George exists for young trans kids. The premise is simple but highly effective, in that everyone sees George as a boy, but she knows deep inside that she’s really a girl. With the school play of Charlotte’s Web coming up, she figures that securing the role of Charlotte will be the best way to help everyone else see her for who she really is. It’s a touching story for any age, and one that has the kind of power that could change kids’ lives.

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What are some of your favourite transgender books? Let’s chat about them in the comments.

Threat

They bundled her into the back of the police car; all six feet of her Amazonian beauty marched to a whispered soundtrack of accusations. I couldn’t tell if the click, click, click was the sound of her heels on catwalk-concrete or the readying of fingers on canisters of pepper spray; the look of discomfort on her face the sign of embarrassment or a need to empty her bladder. Perhaps it was both.