Crystallinegirl

Confessions of the Fox is an #ownvoices novel - written by a trans author, about a trans professor writing about a manuscript about a trans eighteenth-century thief. In that way, it's quite unique, and valuable for its observations about being trans.

But story-wise - it drug on about a hundred pages too long, got bogged down by the footnotes that tell the professor's story, and ultimately went off on some conspiracy tangent that added nothing to the plot. It got weird. I think the book would have been better if it had just been Jack Sheppard's story, without the “professor-annotating-the-manuscript” framework built around it.

Jack is a very compelling character, but we keep getting distracted from his story by the professor's career and love life problems, so it feels very fragmented. I did enjoy the colorful, metaphorical language constantly being used to talk about sex, though! Make no mistake, this is a dirty book. It's mostly dirty in the most flowery of terms, so it's more entertaining than titillating, but it's something to keep in mind if you're thinking of gifting it to someone!

Ultimately, I wish I'd skipped it. I know there are people that like the book-within-a-book framework, and I do sometimes, but I feel like it distracted from the story I really wanted to read, here.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

This book has one of the best forewords I've ever seen. Bornstein explains that since 1994, when the book was first published, language has changed a lot, and terms that were used regularly then, like transsexual, are highly offensive now. So she has heavily rewritten the book to change the language, but she goes on to say that language is an always-changing thing, and in five or six years this edition, too, might be offensive in the language used. Then she apologizes for that. My favorite lines are one of the last paragraphs of the foreword:

Now, if anything you read in this book makes you feel bad or wrong or small and weak, then please know that I said something wrong. This book was written many years ago, and the culture I wrote it in is not the culture in which you're reading it. So, if you find anything to be personally insulting, please accept my apology and keep reading with the knowledge that your identity and how you express your gender are correct only when you feel they are correct.

It was a wonderful note to start the book on. I just loved “if you are offended, if this invalidates your identity, then I AM WRONG.” Bornstein transitioned in the 80s, and has been an outspoken advocate of queer and trans people most of her life. She is definitely a figure in queer history that more people should read about.

The rest of the book is every bit as good as the foreword. Bornstein absolutely destroys the concept of gender in this book, dissecting it and looking at all the parts and pieces to attempt to figure out why society is so set on the binary system. She more than makes her case that gender is a spectrum, not an either/or. And not just a spectrum between “more male” and “more female” but a colorful kaleidoscope of gender expression and identity. She does not shy away from sensitive topics like surgeries and anatomy. She talks to the reader like she's your favorite outrageous aunt, sitting in the family room gossiping over heavily-spiked tea.

The formatting was occasionally confusing; she has the usual justified text, but then she has left-aligned passages (usually quotes from other people) and right-aligned passages (side-bar like content; I'm unclear if these are notes she made on the original text or what, but it generally clarifies or alters what the main text is talking about.)

I would HIGHLY recommend this book for anyone who wants to learn more about gender issues. Bornstein has an incredibly entertaining way of writing, and she loves to challenge what we think of as gender.

You can find all my reviews and more at Goddess in the Stacks.

The Female Persuasion was billed as a feminist novel, and in some ways it is, but the women at my book club all agreed it's not REALLY about feminism. The main character, Greer, works for a feminist foundation, but you could have changed what the foundation's purpose was, or made her work for a corporation, and the essence of the book would have been exactly the same. It was only tangentially about feminism. It was about women supporting each other, though, and the mentor relationship between an older woman and a younger woman, so in some ways, yes. If I was asked to make a list of books about feminism, though, it certainly wouldn't make the cut.

All of the characters have some major flaws. Greer is selfish, and doesn't understand when things don't go according to plan. Cory's life gets entirely derailed by a tragedy he couldn't prevent, but in some ways he lets the derailment happen. If he'd really wanted what he said he wanted (and perhaps he didn't) he could have fixed his trajectory. Zee is a little brash and headstrong, but the most likable character in the book. Faith - oh, Faith. Faith is the older feminist mentor who turns out to be far more jaded than expected.

I have lots of conflicts about Faith. She is one of those feminists who doesn't seem to care for individual women - she can't even remember most of the women who credit her with changing their lives - but she keeps her eyes on the big picture. And as I brought up in book club, the movement does need people who see the big picture. Those people are important - but they still need certain principles that I think Faith lacks.

IR mentioned that Cory was a good foil to all the female characters in the book, and he needed his flaws, because otherwise he would be the perfect feminist boyfriend. And no one is perfect.

We were all a little disappointed with the ending; it felt like Wolitzer skipped a whole section of the story. How did Greer get from point A to point B? (Well, really, it's more like the book covers Points A, B, C, and E. And skips D.)

I think one of my favorite quotes from the book (I misattributed it to Faith at the book club, it turns out it came from Greer) was the one about being given permission:

“I think that's what the people who change our lives always do. They give us permission to be the person we secretly really long to be but maybe don't feel we're allowed to be. Many of you here in this room.....had someone like that, didn't you? Someone who gave you permission. Someone who saw you and heard you. Heard your voice.”

I think that really sums up mentorship, in some ways. Women are often still socialized to not trust their own instincts, to lean on outside opinions for validation. (I know I was.) To be given permission and encouragement to trust yourself can be a life-changing event.

I really enjoyed this book. I saw bits of myself in all four characters - Faith's practicality, Greer's impressionability, Zee's idealism, and even a little of Cory's foggy despair and lack of ambition. I wouldn't call it a feminist classic. But it was a good book.

To see all my reviews (and my experience at the Barnes & Noble Book Club event where we talked about this book!) go to Goddess in the Stacks.

I picked up this book because the title intrigued me. I was expecting a book of short stories on a theme, being Falling Women, and instead I got a book of short stories by an author, one of them being from a divorced, adulterous ex-wife. For all that it wasn't what I was expecting, and was not my usual fare, I was impressed by the quality of the writing and the emotions behind the stories. Most of the stories are tiny vignettes - glimpses into other people's lives. The last story is a much longer story about a washed-up actor. The book is short, but still manages to cram in nine stories in 135 pages, with the tenth consuming 90 pages on its own.

The book begins with “What the Left Hand Is Saying,” about the people living in an apartment building coming together to form a community. “The Queen Mother” descibes a Southern Matriarch getting an intervention for her alcoholism. “The Afterlife of Lyle Stone” is a bizarre little story that I'm still not entirely sure what to make of. “A Brief History of Us” reads like a woman talking to her shrink about her family's history. “Another Little Piece,” “Romance Manual,” “The Best Man,” “The Bodhisattva,” and “Confessions of a Falling Woman” all deal with varying aspects of love and romance. The crowning story of the collection is “Dan in the Gray Flannel Rat Suit” about a washed-up actor realizing he's washed-up.

This was a decent collection. It's not my normal cup of tea, though her novel looks vaguely interesting (The Madonnas of Leningrad). I'll probably only pick up Madonnas if I happen to see it on the library shelf when picking up other things. If you're into contemporary fiction, though, this might be worth a shot.

You can find all my reviews at Goddess in the Stacks.

I try to make a habit of picking up books written by people on the autism spectrum - it's part of my effort to read inclusively, but it also has a personal component, since my husband is on the spectrum. (You can see my list of books on this subject here.) Look Me In The Eye is a book about growing up in the 70s, when an autism diagnosis usually meant a kid entirely incapable of most communication - they didn't really understand the spectrum yet. John Elder Robison was not that child, so he didn't discover his diagnosis until his 40s. Autistic adults discovering the reason for their quirks is a very common story, though these days it's more often women who fall through the cracks than men.

It's always amusing to me spotting the similarities between autistic memoirs and my husband - one of them came very early in the book, when Robison is talking about a book shown to him by his father.

“We looked at books together, especially the Boy Scout Woodsman manual. I can still remember the pictures that showed how to make a trap, and the correct way to step over a fallen log.
I dreamed about trapping wolves and bears, but garter snakes and frogs were as close as I got. And I've never forgotten the woodsman's log-crossing techniques that I learned at five.”