Hey friends! Here’s what I’ve been reading this month! Hope you enjoy August’s infodump: let’s get silly with it! Reminder of my rating system is below. Love you! <3
RATING SYSTEM:
I’ll be using a rating system of LUCKY RABBIT’S PAWS OUT OF FIVE!
1 paw: do not recommend
2 paws: do not recommend (unless otherwise stated)
3 paws: read at your own risk
4 paws: go for it!
5 paws: PLEASE! READ THIS!
SATAN WAS A LESBIAN - MONICA ROBERTS/FRED HALEY
Black, dripping landscape. Houses standing back from the street, silent, dark, seemingly deserted. Ahead, casting only a ghostly glow into the car because of distance and rain, a solitary street light. A black, glistening world, out of a dark dream, and the black, short-cropped hair and the black eyes of Charlene Duval were in perfect keeping with it, as were the black thoughts that moved behind the finely sculptured features of the haunting face.
Fred Haley (penname of Monica Roberts) CRUSHED it with this one, guys. I loved it! A 60s pulp novel, this is mostly slightly-unhinged lesbian porn with a little sprinkle of plot on top. It follows the life of CHARLENE, my new favourite character of anything and a young lesbian learning how to navigate covert queer spaces. She acts out a lot of her trauma and is a very grey character to the point of being an actual villain at various points throughout the narrative. You could call her…a little…devilish….
Satan Was a Lesbian has it all: violence, betrayal, butches, and the weirdest descriptions of nipples you will EVER see in your life. Most of this book is smut, it’s true, but the character moments outside of those scenes are actually…not bad? The pacing towards the end was a liiiitle dragged out, but that’s my only real critique of this wild, wild read. Yes, it’s cheesy, dated, and required by law to murder its lesbians by the end, but it’s so, so fun. And Charlene’s identity and sexuality and the way she explores her trauma are genuinely interesting to me. I was hooked! In the words of Charlene’s lover, Cynthia, “when I get scared, I get…sexy…”
Her thought about wolves had covered only the male of the species, however. She had forgotten that there are females of all species, including wolves.
RABBIT RATING: I’ll give this one 3 paws out of 5; I loved it, but I recognise it would NOT be for everyone so…recommending it is maybe not the move (in my heart, though…this is 5 stars. No - a million stars!). My most fun read this month, hands down. Charlene, I love you.
STONE BUTCH BLUES - LESLIE FEINBERG
THE LEAF WAS BIG AND WET and glowed with the oranges and reds of autumn. I found it stuck to the seat of my Harley on Saturday morning. It made me sad when the leaves began to fall. I wanted another beginning, another chance.
I’ve wanted to read this book for a long time, but I was always too intimidated by the way other queer people spoke about it - radical, life-changing, emotional, stone-cold-serious and un-shy about depicting the brutality our ancestors faced. What if it was too much for me? Worse, what if it was boring? Would that make me a bad activist? A bad queer?
But after reading Satan Was a Lesbian, I wanted a more serious read re: butch lesbian experience in the 60s/70s. So I finally plucked up the courage to read Stone Butch Blues! And I loved it. It really is radical, raw, life-changing. And it certainly wasn’t boring! Plus the writing style is easy to read, so I tore through it.
Leslie Feinberg, butch activist and transgender lesbian, explores the complexities of gender, community, and sex in her book, as well as her own breaking down of the binary within which they tend to exist. Stone Butch Blues follows Jess Goldberg, a Jewish lesbian who never quite feels at home in her body or her gender, from the 1940s to the late 70s/early 80s. Her story is fictional, but draws strong parallels with Feinberg’s own life as an activist and trans lesbian. Jess’ story is relatable, vulnerable, and although heartbreakingly sad at times, overall a story about hope and the healing balm of community and activism.
Stone Butch Blues is a truthful look into the 70s queer scene in America, and as such doesn’t shy away from the transphobia, racism, antisemitism, and anti-butch sentiment present both within the community and without. It’s a look into butch culture and its relation to manliness, womanhood, and the ways in which someone can exist both within and outside of the boundaries of man and woman. It’s beautiful, emotional, and I think everyone should read it. Rest in Power, Leslie!
When my alarm jangled in the morning, I awoke feeling small and terrified. I couldn’t find myself in my own life - there was no memory of me that I could grasp. There was no place outside of me where I belonged. So every morning I willed myself back into existence.
RABBIT RATING: 5 out of 5 - please, please read this book. You can find it for free as a pdf from Leslie’s website here! This is so touching and gorgeous and I think necessary reading for queers and even more so for straights. Please also look up Leslie Feinberg - she did so much for so many communities before her untimely death in 2014 and her achievements are worth reading about. Warning for a lot of very intense violence against queer people and general homophobia and transphobia, body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria.
SEXING THE CHERRY - JEANETTE WINTERSON
I am a sinner, not in body but in mind. I know what love sounds like because I have heard it through the wall, but I do not know what it feels like. What can it be like, two bodies slippery as eels on a mud-flat, panting like dogs after a pig? I fell in love once, if love be that cruelty which takes us straight to the gates of Paradise only to remind us they are closed forever.
This was a short and pretty fun read. I know Jeanette Winterson’s Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit is a well-regarded lesbian novel, but its style didn’t grab me, though I liked Winterson’s ideals, so I went looking for Sexing the Cherry, having heard of it before but not knowing much about it. And I liked it! It’s funny, whimsical, fabulist fiction with some fun characters.
The story follows the Dog Woman, a giant who breeds and trains dogs, and her son, Jordan, who she plucked from the banks of the Thames, as they journey in and out of time in search of themselves. Dog Woman is brash, curious, and terribly ugly. Jordan is whip-smart and mostly defined by yearning. Their internal monologues often show parts they each misunderstand in the other, and both have a desperate desire to find their place in the world.
They always come back to one another, no matter the time, or the place, and Dog Woman supports Jordan’s flights of fancy as much as he supports her ever-changing temper and desire to make her way in the world despite her rejection of certain societal norms. Most of the book takes place in a mediaeval London that is almost ours, though the characters slip in and out of space and time in ways I won’t spoil too much.
Overall, Sexing the Cherry is a fun exploration of family, selfhood, and gender, told through pretty prose and a charming, humorous style.
I tried to explain to her that the tree would still be female although it had not been born from seed, but she said such things had no gender and were a confusion to themselves. 'Let the world mate of its own accord,' she said, 'or not at all.' But the cherry grew, and we have sexed it and it is female.
RABBIT RATING: 3 out of 5; it’s fun, and strange, and if you like existentialism mixed with uncontested, unexplained magical almost-realism, you’ll probably like this book.
WHITE IS FOR WITCHING - HELEN OYEYEMI
Miranda Silver is in Dover, in the ground beneath her mother’s house.
Her throat is blocked with a slice of apple
(to stop her speaking words that may betray her)
her ears are filled with earth
(to keep her from hearing sounds that will confuse her)
her eyes are closed, but
her heart thrums hard like hummingbird wings.
I read this on a whim after seeing the title and hearing it was gothic and queer and featured haunted houses. Thinking it checked a lot of my boxes, I tried it, and liked it! The style was similar to Daisy Johnson or Zoe Gilbert, which I always enjoy in its self-indulgent and nature-heavy descriptions that often feature author-invented portmanteaus. The plot intrigued me - it was ambiguous in a way which served its characters and the unreliability of all our narrators was a lot of fun.
White is for Witching is set in Dover in the year 2000 and explores racism and xenophobia, queerness, and the complicity and complexity of growing up. Our protagonist, Miranda Silver, inhabits the sentient, racist Silver House (much like Rumfitt’s Albion, if you remember last month, only done well), and the longer she dwells within it, the more characteristics of her maternal line she takes on. These characteristics are both physical and behavioural, and she begins to feel she is a danger to those close to her.
I really don’t want to say too much about this one because it’s an interesting story with a lot of interweaving narratives that I feel are benefited by going into blind. I will warn for racism, psychosis, and eating disorders, as these themes feature heavily throughout the book.
The sun shone through clouds swollen with the smell of wet bark, and there were bees around us. Miranda spoke so quietly I had to move closer to her, my ear to her lips. “It’s Eliot’s fault,” she said. When I looked at her, she smiled brightly. Incongruous smiles were a sort of nervous thing with Miranda, a way of protecting herself from consequences, I think. Just like putting sunglasses on, or opening up an umbrella.
RABBIT RATING: 4 out of 5 - I liked this one a lot, but I wished for just a little bit more toward the end, though I don’t think it ruined the overall experience of the book.
BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN - ANNIE PROULX
There were only the two of them on the mountain flying in the euphoric, bitter air, looking down on the hawk’s back and the crawling lights of vehicles on the plain below, suspended above ordinary affairs and distant from tame ranch dogs barking in the dark hours.
I avoided all things Brokeback for a long time because I was afraid it would break my heart. But having now seen the movie and read Proulx’s story, I can safely say that it touched me without breaking my heart completely. Proulx paints a gorgeous picture of the harsh and lonely beauty of the wilderness, and of working outdoors.
Ennis and Jack each have their secrets, and we are often kept in the dark regarding how much of the things they tell each other is truth. This ambiguity of their relationship was something I really enjoyed - we don’t get to see every part of Jack or of Ennis, because they don’t get to see every part of one another. Their story is driven by love, of course, but also by loneliness and a deep desire to be seen and understood for what you are. Despite their differences of temperament, their attachment to one another, and to the mountains, drives them together again and again, and each time the tension that brews beneath the surface comes closer to boiling over.
That tension and dreary withstanding of time spent, out of necessity, away from the things that make you feel whole, permeate the story like a gut-punch. But my favourite thing about Proulx’s writing was her descriptions of the mountains, and of agricultural work. The way she talks about the outdoors is so rich and real. Some of my favourite examples include:
“Dawn came glassy orange, stained from below by a gelatinous band of pale green”; “the meadow stones glowed white-green and a flinty wind worked over the meadow, scraped the fire low, then ruffled it into yellow silk sashes”; and “the startled bear galloped into the trees with the lumpish gait that made it seem it was falling apart.”
Overall, I really liked this one! It was a really pretty read, and Jack and Ennis’ characterisations were really cool.
He had staunched the blood which was everywhere, all over both of them, with his shirtsleeve, but the staunching hadn’t held because Ennis had suddenly swung from the deck and laid the ministering angel out in the wild columbine, wings folded.
RABBIT RATING: 5 out of 5 - Any story that includes queer romance and pretty descriptions of outdoor work will always get full marks from me. Ennis being recalled over and over to both agricultural work and to Jack felt very relatable to me - gay sex and working with animals are both hard to quit!!! Fair warning for this one - homophobia (the violent kind) and the longest run-on sentences you will ever see in your life.
HANGSAMAN - SHIRLEY JACKSON
A tree is not a human thing, with its feet in the ground and its back hard against the sky; it cannot tolerate the small human tenderness moving beneath, and, not obeying the whims of moveable creatures, can hardly have more pity for a Natalie than for a field mouse or a pheasant, moving with private pride but falling easily.
I love Shirley Jackson’s work - if you know anything about my literary tastes, it is easy to understand why: madness, terror, imagery that cuts to the bone. Not to mention, as often noted among queer fans of Jackson, the undercurrent of homoeroticism often found bubbling beneath the surface of her characters’ relationships. This book had all of these (we’ll come back to the homoeroticism later!), but, despite this, managed to rank bottom of the pile of Jackson’s work for me.
Hangsaman follows Natalie Waite, disillusioned wealthy college girl, as she comes of age and starts university. We follow Natalie’s journey through her stream-of-consciousness reflections on life, reality, and her environment and relationships. She often slips into a sort of secondary reality that overlaps her primary one, and struggles to feel real and settled in the world. Natalie’s reflections on her place in the world and on college were relatable and, as she so often does, Jackson cut to the quick of very human emotions in a way that never fails to amaze me.
The entire book deals with the shifting nature of life, and the unreliability of Natalie as our narrator fits this nicely. However, I found the text to be a little repetitive, and not as impactful as Jackson’s other works. It may be worth a re-read to explore further, but I’ll have to wait a while to get around to that. I enjoyed how the story concluded; for Natalie to realise she is an adult and walk back to her life was interesting to me. Such a sudden moment of vast realisation also feels true to being 18 and having these eureka moments about the nature of adulthood, often seemingly at random. The climax of the novel features the forest motif as a metaphor for the unexplored dangers of sex and adulthood and men that pops up throughout the novel, this repurposed to encompass an intense and dangerous friendship with a female friend who, Natalie notes, ‘wants [her]’.
For those of you who were never teenaged lesbians, you may not be familiar with the idea of the co-dependant, homoerotic relationship formed between best friends that burns bright then often peters out in resentment, that is so foundational to the queer girl experience that it has become widely memed. Natalie’s relationship to Tony, the aforementioned friend who takes her to the woods at night and approaches too closely, is instantly recognisable to those of us who have experienced such friendships.
Jackson herself was horrified by this analysis, denying with vehemence that any of her characters were ‘sexual deviants’, but I found it interesting that Tony and Natalie’s friendship rang familiar to so many queer women. Similar themes can be found in many of Jackson’s works, and she has a rather large queer fanbase as a result.
Overall, Hangsaman was a decent read and, in part, very impactful; however, for the most part, I felt I was slogging through the text without getting as much out of it as I would have hoped. I am still going to be thinking about it for a long time, as much of the imagery was powerful, and Natalie’s sense of unreality hit me hard.
It was not pleasant sitting on the porch after Tony had gone; a spot where two people have been talking, however briefly, is not after that a spot for one person to sit alone.
RABBIT RATING: 3 out of 5 - it has its highs, its lows, and its cutting analyses of the human condition, but it is my least favourite of Jackson’s works. Read if you like stream-of consciousness musings on reality, girlhood, and purpose. Also - warning for implied sexual assault.
Thanks for reading everyone!
It’s been a very queer month of reading for me, which was been very fun. I hope you’ve enjoyed my silly ramblings about my reading this month, and I’m excited for next month!
UP NEXT
On the docket for September:
The Sundial - Shirley Jackson
The Dispossessed - Ursula Le Guin
Redder Days - Sue Rainsford
Our Wives Under The Sea - Julia Armfield
Hopefully some more poetry!
But who knows - this month went off the rails and I really liked just following my heart and seeing where the wind blew me. See you next month!