bisexualbookshelf's reviews
692 reviews

Maggie Nelson’s On Freedom: Four Songs of Care and Constraint is a philosophical exploration of the complexities and contradictions of freedom. Through four essays, Nelson challenges traditional notions of freedom, arguing that it is not a distant goal to be achieved but an ongoing practice embedded in our daily lives. Each essay delves into a different domain—art, sex, drugs, and the climate crisis—revealing the intricate dance between autonomy and dependency, self-governance and subjection, that shapes our experiences.

Nelson’s writing is dense and reflective, weaving together academic theory and poetic prose to engage deeply with nuanced ideas about freedom, care, and the human condition. Her exploration of freedom as a process, rather than a final destination, resonates profoundly. This concept is both liberating and challenging, as it requires us to continually negotiate the tensions and contradictions inherent in our pursuit of freedom.

One of the most striking aspects of Nelson’s work is her critique of moralism and the dangers of self-righteousness in social justice practices. She advocates for a more compassionate and context-sensitive approach to ethical behavior, warning against the oppressive potential of obligation, duty, and care when they slip into moralistic judgment. This resonates deeply with the principles of disability justice, where the focus is on care, interdependence, and the acceptance of vulnerability. Nelson’s reflections feel especially relevant in today’s social and political climate, where the rush to judgment often overrides the necessity for empathy and nuance.

Throughout the book, Nelson emphasizes that freedom is intertwined with constraint, suggesting that true freedom often involves the deliberate choice to restrain oneself. She also explores the idea of freedom as a form of care, arguing that the act of caring for others and ourselves is what ultimately sets us free. This perspective is particularly compelling when considering the climate crisis, where the need for care and constraint is paramount. Nelson reminds us that freedom is not an escape from responsibility, but a deeper engagement with the challenges and contradictions of living in a complex, interconnected world.

Overall, On Freedom is a thought-provoking and challenging read that pushes us to reconsider our assumptions about freedom and to embrace the complexities and contradictions that come with it. Nelson’s insistence on nuance and her refusal to offer easy answers make this book a valuable contribution to contemporary discussions on freedom, care, and justice. While some sections may be difficult to grasp fully, the insights and reflections Nelson offers are worth the effort. Maggie never misses!

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy dense, reflective prose, those interested in philosophical explorations of freedom, anyone curious about the intersections of autonomy and care, and those engaged in social justice and ethical living.

🔑 Key Themes: Freedom as an Ongoing Process, Autonomy vs. Dependency, Moralism and Compassion, Vulnerability and Interdependence, Utopian Thinking vs. Practical Action.

This book opens with descriptions of the coercive, controlling abuse inflicted on 14-year old Cordelia by her mother. I couldn’t make it more than 10 pages before it felt too triggering! Sorry T Kingfisher :(

Thank you to the publisher for the gifted copy!

Unfortunately, this book is not the one for me. It’s written by two white, cishet women journalists who describe their findings as “explosive” within the first few sentences. The authors don’t make any effort to use gender inclusive language and somehow get through the first 30 pages without mentioning race once. Considering that these things make this book pretty out of alignment with my values and general worldview, as interested as I am in the facts that lay within it, it didn’t feel worth 500 some pages. 

Malinda Lo’s Last Night at the Telegraph Club is a poignant, beautifully written novel that captures the complexities of coming of age as a queer Chinese American girl in 1950s San Francisco. The story follows Lily Hu, a shy and academically gifted teenager, as she navigates her burgeoning feelings for Kath, a fellow student, against the backdrop of a society steeped in racism, xenophobia, and homophobia.

Lo’s depiction of 1950s San Francisco is richly detailed, and the historical context is woven seamlessly into the narrative. I was particularly struck by how the book explores the intersection of race and sexuality. Lily’s identity as a Chinese American is constantly under scrutiny, both by the dominant white society and within her own community, which is further complicated by her emerging queer identity. The pressure Lily feels to conform to the expectations of both white supremacy and heteronormativity is palpable and heartbreaking, adding layers of depth to her character and her story.

The Telegraph Club, a lesbian bar that becomes a sanctuary for Lily and Kath, serves as a vibrant, almost magical setting where Lily begins to explore her identity. Lo captures the thrill and terror of this exploration with exquisite sensitivity. The club scenes are filled with queer joy, but they are also tinged with the ever-present danger of being discovered. I was also moved by how Lo portrays Lily’s queer awakening as a process of gradual self-discovery. The scene where Kath subtly comes out to Lily, described as an “opening,” was particularly touching. It’s a moment of possibility, and while Lily doesn’t fully accept it at first, she doesn’t reject it either, reflecting the slow, often painful journey of coming out.

However, the novel also doesn’t shy away from the darker realities of the time. The fear of the Red Scare looms large, with Lily’s family facing the threat of deportation due to their Chinese heritage. This fear adds another layer of tension to Lily’s life, as she must navigate the dangerous waters of being both queer and Chinese in a society that mistrusts both. The scenes depicting the harsh realities of the Red Scare and its impact on immigrant families were chilling, highlighting how xenophobia and anti-communist rhetoric were weaponized to marginalize entire communities.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club is a story of first love, self-discovery, and the courage it takes to live authentically in a world that demands conformity. Lo’s writing is lyrical and evocative, capturing the angst, joy, and uncertainty of Lily’s journey with remarkable tenderness. While the novel is set in a specific historical context, the themes of identity, belonging, and resistance resonate deeply with contemporary readers. It’s a powerful reminder of how far we’ve come, and how far we still have to go, in the fight for queer liberation and racial justice.

📖 Recommended For: Fans of historical fiction, those interested in exploring the intersection of race and LGBTQ+ identity, readers who appreciate richly detailed settings and character-driven stories.

🔑 Key Themes: Identity and Self-Discovery, Forbidden Love, Racial and LGBTQ+ Marginalization, 1950s America, Cultural and Historical Heritage.

Ashley Shew’s Against Technoableism: Rethinking Who Needs Improvement is a concise yet impactful primer on the intersections of disability, ableism, and technology. While the book is accessible and clearly targeted towards an able-bodied, neurotypical audience, it offers valuable insights for readers at any stage of their disability justice journey.

One of the most compelling aspects of Shew's analysis is her refusal to endorse the demand for disabled people to curate origin stories to validate their right to speak on their experiences. This resonated deeply with me, as someone whose disability is often invisible. I frequently encounter skepticism about my ability to speak on disability issues, and Shew’s stance, as well as her insistence on centering disabled voices, offers a powerful affirmation that disabled people should not have to perform emotional labor to justify their perspectives.

This book expertly challenges the pervasive notion that technological aids should be designed solely for the purpose of "fixing" disabled people to fit able-bodied norms. This critique of technoableism—where technology is often wielded to enforce normalcy rather than accommodate diverse needs—is a refreshing perspective that emphasizes the importance of centering disabled voices and experiences. Shew also explores the ethical implications of choosing not to use tech assists, framing this decision as a personal choice that should be free from judgment. This emphasis on autonomy is a crucial reminder that technology should serve the needs of disabled people, rather than simply serving to help them fit into a narrow view of “normalcy.”

The book is filled with sharp observations that link ableism with broader systems of oppression, such as capitalism and colonialism. Shew’s definition of able-bodiedness as "the ability to do physical labor" underscores the capitalist imperative to value bodies solely based on productivity. She further critiques how disability is co-opted by white supremacist capitalism to enforce conformity and suppress diversity, illustrating how deeply entrenched ableism is in our societal structures.

In sum, Against Technoableism is a thought-provoking read that challenges us to rethink our assumptions about disability, technology, and the future. While it may leave some readers wishing for a more in-depth exploration, it’s a powerful starting point for discussions on how we can create a world that truly accommodates and values all bodies and minds.

📖 Recommended For: Readers interested in disability justice, those curious about the intersection of technology and ableism, anyone who values critical perspectives on societal ideas of normalcy.

🔑 Key Themes: Disability and Autonomy, Technoableism, Capitalism and Productivity, Intersectionality of Oppression, Inclusivity and Design.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Sexual Harassment (minor), Medical Content (moderate), Genocide (moderate), Torture (moderate), Ableism (severe), Suicide (minor), Cancer (minor). 

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Exit Opera by Kim Addonizio is a hauntingly sardonic exploration of what it means to be alive, steeped in the futility of attempting to control the uncontrollable aspects of our existence. From the opening poem, Addonizio's speaker grapples with the impossibility of mastering life, ultimately suggesting that perhaps the best course of action is to relinquish control and embrace life's unpredictability. Allusions to Greek mythology, philosophy, and literature are woven throughout the collection, adding depth to the speaker’s reflections on the absurdity of existence.

Addonizio confronts the dualities that define our lives—hope and despair, faith and doubt, life and death—often opting for a darkly humorous resignation rather than a definitive conclusion. The speaker's musings on religion and the search for meaning are particularly poignant; despite exploring spirituality as a potential answer to existential woes, she ultimately finds it wanting, leaving her to navigate the vastness of existence with a drink in hand.

What stands out most in Exit Opera is the speaker's palpable sense of smallness in the face of a chaotic, indifferent world. Yet, amid this bleakness, there are moments of solace found in nature, art, and connection with others. Addonizio balances this tension masterfully, acknowledging the inevitability of decay and death while still clinging to fleeting glimpses of hope. The poems are at once introspective and irreverent, blending the everyday with the philosophical in a way that feels both surreal and deeply grounded.

Stylistically, Addonizio’s language is vivid and sharp, oscillating between sardonic wit and poignant reflection. Her imagery is eclectic, often juxtaposing the absurd with the profound to evoke a sense of disorientation and contemplation. While the collection may lose some cohesion toward the end, Exit Opera remains a powerful addition to Addonizio’s body of work, resonating deeply in these uncertain times. For fans of Melissa Broder and Miranda July, this collection, with its blend of humor, pain, and introspective beauty, is sure to resonate with many of us in these times of increasing uncertainty. 

📖 Recommended For: Admirers of dark humor and existential themes, readers who enjoy poetry that blends the mundane with the philosophical, those intrigued by explorations of mortality and the absurdity of life, fans of Melissa Broder and Miranda July.

🔑 Key Themes: The Futility of Control, Mortality and Decay, Existential Loneliness, The Search for Meaning, The Tension Between Faith and Doubt, Finding Solace in Art and Connection.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!

Jellyfish Have No Ears by Adèle Rosenfeld, translated by Jeffrey Zuckerman, is a profoundly introspective exploration of identity, loss, and the precarious relationship between silence and language. Through poetic prose and vivid imagery, Rosenfeld invites readers into the deeply internal world of her protagonist, a woman grappling with the gradual loss of her hearing and the life-altering decision of whether to receive a cochlear implant.

The novel's strength lies in its lyrical style, which weaves abstract reflections with concrete details, creating a richly textured narrative. Rosenfeld’s language is meticulous, often evoking the fragility and intensity of her protagonist’s emotions. Rosenfeld’s prose perfectly captures the protagonist's struggle with the erosion of her auditory world and the complex interplay between words and silence. This struggle is mirrored in the broader themes of the novel, which delve into the psychological and emotional impacts of hearing loss, touching on isolation, adaptation, and the fear of losing a familiar yet imperfect sense of self.

Rosenfeld’s narrative is also deeply engaged with the complexities of living with an invisible disability. The protagonist’s contemplation of whether she is “deaf enough or not deaf enough” resonates with many in the disability community, who often grapple with internalized ableism and the societal pressures to conform to a rigid standard of normalcy. Rosenfeld captures the exhaustion and trauma that can accompany the relentless need to adapt in an ableist world, where the protagonist is expected to perform normalcy even at the cost of her well-being.

One aspect of Jellyfish Have No Ears that warrants careful attention is a passage around the midway point of the novel, where the narrator uses language that I found inappropriate. In a scene set in a doctor’s office, the narrator, feeling uneasy interacting with another deaf patient, describes this tension as “autistic discomfort,” despite neither character being autistic. While I understand what Rosenfeld might be attempting to convey, I found the use of "autistic" as an adjective troubling and ableist. It’s important to note that this was in an Advance Reader’s Copy, and I’ve since confirmed that UK and Australian editions do not include the same language, so it’s possible that the final US version was also edited. Nevertheless, this passage could be jarring or unsafe for readers, especially those within the autistic community, and it’s important to approach this moment with caution. The intent behind this language might be unclear due to the novel being a translation, but the impact remains significant. As someone who values inclusive and respectful language, I felt it necessary to highlight this issue for those who might find it concerning.

While Jellyfish Have No Ears is undoubtedly a beautifully written and resonant exploration of disability and D/deafness, it does have its moments of ambiguity that left me somewhat bewildered, particularly towards the end. The narrative threads involving Anna, the soldier, the botanist, and the dog became increasingly confusing as the story progressed, making it challenging to discern whether these characters were aspects of Anna’s psyche or something else entirely. Despite my confusion, the prose remained captivating, and the novel’s exploration of disability was both powerful and thought-provoking. Ultimately, while the plot’s complexity may leave some readers scratching their heads, the beauty of Rosenfeld's language and the depth of the themes explored make this a worthwhile read for those interested in nuanced narratives about disability, even if the ending feels a bit elusive.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who value lyrical prose and introspective narratives, those interested in exploring themes of disability and D/deafness, fans of character-driven stories with complex emotional landscapes, anyone who enjoys works that challenge traditional narrative structures.

🔑 Key Themes: Disability and D/deafness, Identity and Belonging, Social Isolation, Ambiguity and Uncertainty, Language and Communication.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC, and to Madison at The Dial Press for the gorgeous gifted final copy!

Whoever You Are, Honey by Olivia Gatwood sets out to explore the pressures of femininity through a contemporary lens shaped by the cultural milieu of Silicon Valley. With a subtle undercurrent of AI-related tension, the novel touches on themes of identity, technology, and societal expectations, all of which are encapsulated in Gatwood’s intriguing epigraph: “I love you, alive girl. - Jeff Bezos in a text to his mistress.” This epigraph, a startling introduction, primes readers for a journey through the complex and often unsettling intersections of human connection and digital reality.

The narrative is deeply introspective, focusing on the internal landscapes of the characters, particularly Mitty and Lena. Gatwood’s writing is contemplative, drawing readers into the quiet, melancholic musings of her protagonists as they navigate the suffocating pressures of societal norms and the creeping influence of technology on their lives. The exploration of how women’s identities are shaped—and often constrained—by these forces is a central theme, with the novel delving into the nuanced ways that loneliness, belonging, and the struggle for self-understanding manifest in a world dominated by digital realities and skewed power dynamics. While this is certainly an interesting starting point for a character study, based on the synopsis and marketing, I was expecting much more plot and much less stream-of-consciousness from this book compared to what it delivered.

Despite the potential richness of these themes, the novel struggles to fully engage. Based on her traditional background as a poet, Gatwood fell short of my expectations for delivering lyrical and poignant prose. The characters, while crafted with care, lack the depth and distinction needed to truly resonate. Both Mitty and Lena, whose perspectives alternate throughout the narrative, often blur into one another, making it difficult to differentiate their voices or fully invest in their individual stories. This blending of character voices may be an intentional choice to underscore the universality of their experiences, but it ultimately detracts from the novel’s impact and left me grasping for a stronger connection.

The novel’s setting in Silicon Valley provides a fertile backdrop for exploring the erosion of authentic experiences in the face of relentless technological progress and gentrification. However, Gatwood’s critique of these forces feels somewhat superficial, failing to delve deeply enough into the implications of an increasingly AI-driven world. The tech elements of the narrative are introduced with promise but remain underdeveloped, leaving a sense of unfulfilled potential.

Whoever You Are, Honey attempts to grapple with significant and timely issues but ultimately falls short of delivering the incisive, emotionally resonant narrative that its premise suggests. While Gatwood’s exploration of identity, technology, and societal expectations offers moments of insight, the novel’s lack of character differentiation and its missed opportunities for deeper narrative exploration leave it feeling somewhat flat. For readers drawn to introspective literary fiction with a focus on contemporary issues, this novel may still offer something of value, but it may not fully satisfy those expecting the poetic depth and narrative tension hinted at in its initial pitches. I do think my dissatisfaction with this book was due to my expectations being very different from what was actually delivered, and I am already considering revisiting it in the future with a different set of expectations to see if my experience with it changes. 

📖 Recommended For: Readers who enjoy introspective literary fiction, those intrigued by the intersection of technology and identity, fans of character-driven narratives, and admirers of works that critique societal norms through a contemporary lens.

🔑 Key Themes: Pressures of Femininity, Identity and Technology, Loneliness and Belonging, Societal Expectations, The Influence of Silicon Valley.

I was doing this on audio, which often doesn't work well for me. It's been weeks since I was interested in listening to it, so I'm calling it a DNF for now. This also has a lot of detailed triggering content relating to sexual violence and self-harm, which may be why I've been disinclined to pick it back up. I'd like to revisit it via physical or eBook, but it may have to wait until I have a healthier relationship with my nervous system. 

There's nothing wrong with this, it just wasn't working for me on audio! May revisit in the future via a physical or eBook