bashsbooks's reviews
245 reviews

This was a difficult read. I've been mulling over how to review it. 

So, the story behind this text is that Michel Foucault rediscovered Herculine (also called Adélaïde, Alexina, Camille, and Abel) Barbin's memoirs in the late 70s, complied them alongside all the other documents of hers that he could find, and presented them in this book with a fictional short story that was strongly inspired by Barbin's case. Barbin was an intersex individual born in France in the 1830s, who was assigned female at birth, but then reassigned male at 22 after doctors decided that his genitals were more "male" than "female". Barbin struggled with this change (and the accompanying scandal which included the desolution of a relationship with a woman she loved) so much that he died by suicide when she was only thirty. 

I include this much summary because I feel it's super relevant to the review. I don't particularly like the presentation of Barbin's memoirs next to all the medical and literary fascination with her. Foucault seems to have some sympathy, but not enough to present the memoirs alone - maybe he felt some sort of scientific obligation to include the (frankly gross, in my opinion) delight that doctors took in exploring and documenting the details of Barbin's genitalia, as if he were not a person but a tool for discovery. I don't think it was necessary to do that - the information Barbin feels comfortable sharing in the memoirs is more than enough. (And related, I don't think we need Foucault to dox all the people and places that Barbin intentionally made anonymous.) The inclusion of the fictional scandal story at the end adds insult to injury - one of the characters is literally named Alexina, and she has a very similar love affair and body configuration to the real Barbin. So. I didn't like all that.

But I do feel that the actual text of Barbin's memoirs is important. I felt deeply for him (and related to him a lot - apparently being your partner's awkward girl boyriend at a family gather is not a new experience). I'm sad that we only have the parts of it that some doctor felt like keeping; I'd have loved to read all that she wanted to share with us. 

So like 0/5 for the surrounding treatment but 5/5 for Barbin's writing. I hope that in the future there is a rerelease of Barbin's writing where they treat him with more humanity.

I've very picky about witchcraft books. It feels like a subject that can be rife with grift and stolen without credit from the actual people who created and cared for it. 

But Richards doesn't strike me as a grifter or a thief - he's extremely upfront about the rocky history of Appalachia, about how many of our own ancestors (particularly for us white folks) undoubtedly participated in the awful history of the region and the nation at large. I especially appreciated his thoughts on how to reconcile this with ancestor veneration. He seems very willing to mark what practices came from which cultures, if he knows the answer. I think sometimes he definitely gets that wrong (I know a lot about Ireland and Scotland, and sometimes he combines traditions and languages - for example, uisce beatha is Irish, not Gaelic (which generally refers to Scottish Gaelic - it's uisge beatha, with a g, in that language) and it means whiskey, not moonshine), and while I don't know as much about the Cherokee, I suspect he sometimes uses them as a catch-all for all the local indigenous people. But he's also upfront about how he's sharing what he knows from his roots, and he never claims to be an expert on anything but his own experience, which I find refreshing. 

All in all, I found this to be a thoughtful and nuanced description of the folkcraft traditions of the region my ancestors are from (Richards is from eastern Tennessee, like my great-grandfather; my father's family now resides in the mountains of southwestern Virginia), and I would like to get my own copy eventually, for reference and further research.

(Also, it's based how many charms there are for keeping the law away.)

This is another entry in my longstanding project of assessing the poetry of songwriters to see if I can figure out the distinctions (if there even are any - I believe there are, but I respect how subjective that take is) between poems and songs. (This is an offshoot of a larger project that centers around what non-poet career produces the best poets.) 

Eat The World suggests to me once again that the "supports" of song lift up language differently than the "supports" of poetry - Diamandis is very good at supplimenting her lyrics with her ear-catching croon and a host of well-chosen instrumentals. She is not quite as good at using the space and shapes of poetry to this advantage, however. Like many other songwriters-turned-poets, I find her a little too direct and a little too overwrought. It's like, take away the music and they pour out too much to fit in what they perceive as empty space (which is also why I don't think she's that great at *playing* with poetic space - she seems to see it solely silence). 

I will say, though, that Eat The World illuminated a possible confounding variable in my aforementioned projects. I think, regardless of medium, Diamandis was a better writer ten years ago. So I have to wonder, would her poetry have read better to me if she'd released a book like this back then? Perhaps. But of course that's as impossible as a question as if I wondered about liking her music if I first heard it now. 

Darkly Dreaming Dexter is difficult for me to rate. This is because if I take off my nostalgia-coated glasses, it's trash. Interesting and fun trash (uh, mostly, some of it is offensive and tasteless and kind of always has been), but still. And also, sometimes it's annoying (I do not like the alliteration thing).

However, I LOOOVED the Dexter TV show as a teenager, and that really boosts the book's quality - especially given that I most enjoyed comparing the book to what I remember from the show (the plot is similar but the characterizations are different so that's neat).

So, I settled on 3 stars because I had fun, but I wouldn't say it's actually that good if you didn't hyperfixate on the show at 16. And yes, I will probably read the other ones.

Gender/Fucking is an incredible collection of essays. Ashley writes about sex, sexuality, gender, and the connections we make and break through them with a freshness that I've rarely seen. Their writing is full and vivid without being overwrought or cliché. And it isn't just their structural/word choices that are fantastic - their imagination flows into everything they write, sparking a flame within the reader that transports you into their world, which eases understanding for the difficult and fraught scenarios and questions that continuiously force their readers to grapple with. 

My favorite essays were: "The Cutting Table", "Vaginomancy", (must-reads regarding vulva-acquring bottom surgery), "Libidinal Vertigo", (fuck psychoanalysis!) and "Daydreams of an Apocalypse" (palliative activism is SUCH an important concept).

Could not recommend this book more. Will be reading more of Ashley's work in fhe future.

I don't know what I was expecting from The Foxhole Court, but it was not that - and I generally mean this in a positive way. It's way grittier than I anticipated, and also much more absurd. A fake lacrosse-like sport? A mafia father? The yakuza?? (I know this is in the summary but I suppose I expected to come off more... fanfictiony, for lack of a better word.)

And yet, for all its outlandishness, it does a damn good job making you take it seriously. The members of the Foxhole court are all fascinating fuck-ups. I am intrigued by Andrew's drugged, messed-up ass in particular. I'm cutious to see where it will go, when will they find Neil out, etcetera. 

The Green Witch strikes me as a fairly run-of-the-mill nondenominational witchcraft book. I most enjoyed its suggested activities and charms - the idea of crafting your own items (like the broom craft) resonates with me. The idea of vague natural forces, especially the elements? Not as much, but credit where it is due, Hiscock-Murphy emphasizes that you can take it or leave it.

One glaring issue with this book is that Hiscock-Murphy, in her attempt to make everyone feels welcome, say something to the effect of - there is no moral code to green witchcraft, for a green witch works in tandem with the environment. This, I assume, is to distance it from more specific spiritual practices, but the idea that simply being a green witch means you won't end up in moral conflict with nature is frankly laughable.

The Scapegracers is so electrifying and original. Its narrative voice - that of the protagonist, Sideways - is unusual, and it took me a second to get into it, but once I got into the rhythm, it was insanely vivid and brain-sparking. I love the messy teenaged witchery, the unexpected clique, the unbridled queerness. The underlying conflict with the witchfinders was a great metaphor for the conflict between Christianity and queers. And, of course, I ADORE Mr. Scratch. What a silly and fascinating creature.

I had some mixed feelings about the way genderqueer characters were presented in this book - there wasn't anything against them because of their genders, but the nature of the clique is to be intensely against people outside of them, and that manifested in some strange ways. (It's not a vibe to read a trans man call a popular girl a 'breeder' in your pro-queer witch novel.) But I've heard that more gender expansion happens later on, so I'm thinking that'll balance out over the series as a whole. 

I wish there was an accessible audiobook version of this, I feel like I would've absorbed so much more.

Wide Sargasso Sea is both very dense and very dry. I love a little reimagining, though, and Rhys' personal experience in Antoinette's sociocultural setting really shines through. I appreciated the exploration of and space for the different racial groups present, as well as the subtle magical realism that shimmers over everything. 

Oh, and, of course, Mr. Rochester is such an asshole. 

Started My Squirrel Days for a lighter read in the face of some rough personal and political events. It was funny, and it required very little thought. This is the greatest recommendation for it and my biggest critique against it. Kemper is a comedian, and an extremely funny one - but don't expect her to take anything seriously at any point.