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bisexualbookshelf's reviews
793 reviews
We Were the Universe by Kimberly King Parsons delves into the raw, unfiltered experience of motherhood through the eyes of a hyper-sexual, bisexual narrator. The book's exploration of the loneliness and chaos inherent in motherhood draws parallels to much contemporary women’s literature. However, despite its intriguing themes and moments of engaging prose, the novel ultimately falls short in several critical areas.
In "Kissing Girls on Shabbat" by Dr. Sara Glass, the author offers a candid exploration of accepting her queerness within the context of being raised in Hasidic Judaism. However, my experience with the book was cut short due to concerns regarding the author's discussions of Israel.
In her author's note, Glass delves into the historical context of psychotherapy and questions the dominance of white male ideologies in the field. She touches on themes of decolonization and liberation, which initially intrigued me. However, as I delved further into the book, I encountered numerous uncritical references to Israel, including Glass's experiences studying there and her sister's marriage to an IDF veteran.
While Glass discusses themes of decolonization and liberation in reference to her own experiences, her silence on the issue of Israel's colonialism and genocide in Palestine felt glaring. Despite acknowledging the colonial roots of psychotherapy, Glass fails to extend this critical analysis to the situation in Palestine. This omission is particularly troubling given the ongoing violence, especially considering the book's publication timeline coinciding with recent events.
The author's failure to address the complexities of Israel's actions perpetuates a pattern of silence and complicity in these oppressive processes. As someone committed to anti-colonialism and solidarity with Palestine, I found this out of alignment with my values. While I acknowledge that the author may not have intended to endorse Israel's actions, her silence ultimately contributes to the erasure of Palestinian experiences.
In conclusion, "Kissing Girls on Shabbat" raises important questions about queer liberation and empowerment within ultra-conservative communities. However, the author's failure to engage with the issue of Israel's colonialism detracts from its overall impact. As a reader with anti-colonial and Pro-Palestine values, I chose to discontinue reading the book due to this significant oversight.
Throughout the book, LaPointe navigates the complexities of her identity as a queer Coastal Salish person, shedding light on the impacts of racism and colorism on her life. With a reverent and grateful tone, she documents her journey of reclaiming lost cultural practices and traditions, while also advocating for solidarity between movements.
"Thunder Song" is not merely a reflection on personal experiences; it is a fervent reminder of the need to end Indigenous erasure and colonial violence. LaPointe courageously confronts issues such as substance abuse, sexual violence, intergenerational trauma, and suicide, shedding light on the ongoing struggles faced by Indigenous communities in the aftermath of centuries of oppression.
Among the standout essays are "First Salmon Ceremony," where LaPointe explores the process of decolonizing her diet, and "River Silt," a poignant reflection on body, sexuality, and their connection to the wildness of the land. These essays wonderfully exemplify the book's themes of resilience, healing, and the communal wildness shared between humans and the natural world.
Overall, "Thunder Song" is a beautifully written and deeply moving exploration of identity, activism, and cultural preservation. LaPointe's essays offer a compelling blend of personal narrative, cultural critique, and advocacy, making this book a must-read for anyone interested in Indigenous perspectives and the ongoing fight for justice and liberation.
📖 Recommended For: Advocates for Indigenous Rights and Decolonization, Readers Interested in Personal and Cultural Narratives of Resilience, Fans of Billy-Ray Belcourt.
🔑 Key Themes: Resistance Against Indigenous Erasure, Healing through Cultural Reclamation, Exploration of Queer Indigenous Identity, Anticolonialism and Decolonialism.
Moderate: Sexual assault, Medical trauma, Abortion, Pandemic/Epidemic
Minor: Alcoholism, Child abuse, Domestic abuse, Drug abuse, Miscarriage, Racism, Police brutality, Kidnapping, Suicide attempt, Sexual harassment
In Daniel Sarah Karasik's "Disobedience," readers are plunged into a dystopian world rife with surveillance, oppression, and the struggle for identity and love. Shael, a young transfeminine person, navigates the confines of a vast prison camp, where revealing their true self and their forbidden love for Coe, a militant activist, could mean facing violent repercussions. As these dangers converge towards a tipping point, Shael escapes to Riverwish, a settlement striving to defy the camp's repression and forge a new way of life.
Karasik’s novel is adeptly interwoven with elements of queerness, liberation, and transformative justice. From the outset, the exploration of "between" as a gender identity offers a refreshing perspective, resonating with those who feel they exist beyond the binary. Shael's gender journey, especially in relation to their parents, offers a refreshing perspective on gender identity and heritage.
The book delves into the insidious nature of oppression and control, cultivating an immersive surveillance atmosphere and reflecting on the limits of obedience. Karasik's commentary on the shackling of imagination under capitalism resonated with me, reflecting on the erosion of individuality and creativity in the face of capitalist control.
Despite the thematic richness, some aspects of the book fall short. The prose at times feels clunky, hindering the immersive experience. Additionally, the narrative felt unfocused and the pacing uneven, leaving certain plot points unresolved and character development lacking. While the exploration of transformative processes and abolitionist ideologies is commendable, the execution may leave readers wanting more cohesion and depth.
Overall, "Disobedience" offers a thought-provoking exploration of identity, love, and resistance in the face of oppression. While the book grapples with complex themes and ideas, its execution may leave some readers, including myself, wanting more. While I appreciate Karasik’s reflections on power, freedom, and collective liberation, I think this needed a few more rounds of edits and could've benefitted from additional length.
Graphic: Sexual content
Minor: Drug abuse, Drug use, Torture, Violence, Sexual harassment
Graphic: Drug abuse, Drug use, Gore
Moderate: Child abuse, Death, Mental illness, Sexual violence, Grief
Minor: Cancer, Gun violence, Homophobia, Miscarriage, Racism, Sexual content, Pandemic/Epidemic
Graphic: Self harm, Death of parent
Moderate: Animal death, Gore, Sexual content
Minor: Cancer, Drug abuse, Drug use
From the outset, de Rozario celebrates the power of estrangement as a valid response to familial abuse, offering a bold narrative of empowerment amidst abuse. Each essay resonates with themes of queer empowerment, creating a space for sapphic reclamation and defiance.
One of the collection's strengths lies in its adept critique of fatphobia, especially within the context of racism and colorism. These essays deftly unpack the ways in which societal norms and parental influence perpetuate damaging attitudes towards bodies, particularly within mother-daughter relationships.
Throughout the essays, de Rozario illuminates the inherently political nature of queerness, emphasizing the importance of solidarity in the fight for liberation. Her introspective journey to confront the ghosts of her past underscores the need for collective action and mutual support in dismantling oppressive systems.
Anchored by a rich tapestry of pop culture references—from Carrie to Radiohead—de Rozario's analysis is both insightful and engaging. The collection's fascination with monsters serves as a lens through which to humanize and confront societal anxieties. In "Becoming Monsters," de Rozario offers a feminist, pro-survivor critique of Asian horror films, while in "Looks Like the Real Thing," she explores the artifice of national wealth through the lens of Westworld. The breadth of her critique is remarkable, encompassing topics ranging from antiracism to abolition and Singaporean prisons.
What truly sets de Rozario's writing apart is her razor-sharp prose, which cuts to the heart of complex issues with precision and eloquence. Her words linger, challenging readers to confront their own assumptions and biases. The collection is peppered with poignant quotes that encapsulate both her literary skill and the collection's central themes.
"Dinner on Monster Island" is a feast of intellect and emotion, a tour de force of personal narrative and cultural critique. Through her candid exploration of identity and resilience, Tania de Rozario invites readers to confront their own ghosts and embrace the journey towards liberation. “Dinner on Monster Island” is a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the intersections of queerness, trauma, and social justice.
📖 Recommended For: Advocates for LGBTQ+ Representation, Intersectional Feminist Readers, Those Seeking Bold and Insightful Narratives, Fans of "It Came From the Closet"
🔑 Key Themes: Queer Empowerment and Reclamation, Confrontation of Trauma and Family Dynamics, Interrogation of Body Politics and Fatphobia, Collective Action and Solidarity in Liberation Movements.
Moderate: Mental illness, Self harm, Suicide
Minor: Child abuse, Fatphobia, Sexual violence, Suicidal thoughts, Death of parent