Lili V
Reading is very much like cruising down the Florida A1A coastline, windows down, feeling the wind by the sound it makes in the trees, in the crashing of the ocean waves. Eyes alert yet at half mast, unconsciously cautious of the cool salty air. Reflective, thoughtful, cognizant of the endless highway flying past yet forgetting not an inch of it is the same as the last. The writing lent itself to that flow state where the momentum carried the story forward while also creating space for mindful reflection. It left almost too much space though. Nelson's writing took advantage of the inherent disconnection that comes with the form of autotheory.
You're being propelled down this road, enjoying the pace when the car starts to make a noise. You slow down to listen, then come to a standstill on this deserted landscape because you know that it's the type of noise you'll eventually have to explain to a mechanic. You try to make sense of what it could be, replaying the circumstances that could have triggered it.
The author explores themes of motherhood, queer family dynamics, and queer identity. The writing has great moments of connection and personal insight - the aside about being a stepparent was eyeopening and her interactions with her stepson were beautiful. All of her bodily observations of her pregnancy, her partner's journey and Nelson giving birth were emotionally-wrought and a rewarding peak into such an intimate life.
The form in which this book was written, however, granted an excuse for interspersions that were interesting if you knew about feminist theory but ultimately were too frequent to appreciate their inclusion. The clunky interjections of open-ended italic questions meant to be incisive and thought-provoking left me questioning why the interruption was necessary.
Reading is very much like cruising down the Florida A1A coastline, windows down, feeling the wind by the sound it makes in the trees, in the crashing of the ocean waves. Eyes alert yet at half mast, unconsciously cautious of the cool salty air. Reflective, thoughtful, cognizant of the endless highway flying past yet forgetting not an inch of it is the same as the last. The writing lent itself to that flow state where the momentum carried the story forward while also creating space for mindful reflection. It left almost too much space though. Nelson's writing took advantage of the inherent disconnection that comes with the form of autotheory.
You're being propelled down this road, enjoying the pace when the car starts to make a noise. You slow down to listen, then come to a standstill on this deserted landscape because you know that it's the type of noise you'll eventually have to explain to a mechanic. You try to make sense of what it could be, replaying the circumstances that could have triggered it.
The author explores themes of motherhood, queer family dynamics, and queer identity. The writing has great moments of connection and personal insight - the aside about being a stepparent was eyeopening and her interactions with her stepson were beautiful. All of her bodily observations of her pregnancy, her partner's journey and Nelson giving birth were emotionally-wrought and a rewarding peak into such an intimate life.
The form in which this book was written, however, granted an excuse for interspersions that were interesting if you knew about feminist theory but ultimately were too frequent to appreciate their inclusion. The clunky interjections of open-ended italic questions meant to be incisive and thought-provoking left me questioning why the interruption was necessary.