I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself
Ratings14
Average rating3.6
15
Ratings14
Average rating3.6
Dept. of Speculation meets Black Mirror in this lyrical, speculative debut about a queer mother raising her daughter in an unjust surveillance state In a United States not so unlike our own, the Department of Balance has adopted a radical new form of law enforcement: rather than incarceration, wrongdoers are given a second (and sometimes, third, fourth, and fifth) shadow as a reminder of their crime—and a warning to those they encounter. Within the Department, corruption and prejudice run rampant, giving rise to an underclass of so-called Shadesters who are disenfranchised, publicly shamed, and deprived of civil rights protections. Kris is a Shadester and a new mother to a baby born with a second shadow of her own. Grieving the loss of her wife and thoroughly unprepared for the reality of raising a child alone, Kris teeters on the edge of collapse, fumbling in a daze of alcohol, shame, and self-loathing. Yet as the kid grows, Kris finds her footing, raising a child whose irrepressible spark cannot be dampened by the harsh realities of the world. She can’t forget her wife, but with time, she can make a new life for herself and the kid, supported by a community of fellow misfits who defy the Department to lift one another up in solidarity and hope. With a first-person register reminiscent of the fierce self-disclosure of Sheila Heti and the poetic precision of Ocean Vuong, I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself is a bold debut novel that examines the long shadow of grief, the hard work of parenting, and the power of queer resistance.
Reviews with the most likes.
This was beautiful and devastating and I both wanted it never to end and also needed it to end immediately.
The first I want to say 50% of this book were 5 stars, beautifully written and emotionally powerful. Then it became mostly about tedious stuff the kid did and I was just bored with it. Great setting but ultimately nothing was really done with it and given the lack of plot and the fact that so much of the book was focused on the “actions” of the kid that seemed to be a cross between Sheldon Cooper and the edgy my little pony character but without any of the charm I wish I had stopped reading halfway through and stayed with how amazing the first part was.
Netural 2.5 rounded up.
Thoughts while reading I Keep My Exoskeletons To Myself:
- Reading page 1: “Oh no, this is going to hurt, isn't it?” (Which is a dumb thing to worry about as I love all the books that hurt).
- I need to stop reading this right before bedtime, my emotions are all over the place.
- I'm tired of crying on my train rides.
- I really fucking love the narrative voice.
- Kris' thought patterns and the way she communicates with her people is... like looking into a mirror.
- There's so much heart in this.
- ... and Kris' dry humour.
- More than anything, this story is about dealing with the shame and guilt that follows being systematically alienated and diminished by society (and the resistance against it).
- It's a library loan and I don't want to return it...
I'm going to have to chase down more books like this, aren't I?
DNF'ed it, should start with that.
For some reason I like genre fiction, and for some reason when I go to the library to find new books to read, either on the new shelves or searching the stacks for authors I recognize, 90% of what I read, 9 out of 10 books, are queer-related. Maybe that is just how sci-fi/fantasy is being written these days, and always how horror has been. But it is not a problem for me because I like to read queer stories. I am a queer woman and I can relate to the experiences of people in these stories. Even if the stories are about messy people (because I am also a messy person).
I could not read more than half of I Keep My Exoskelletons to Myself. It hurt to read, and not in a way that feels cathartic. The world in this book is a tragedy that feels impossible to escape, and the protagonist just can't move herself out of her personal tragedy and the barriers in the world on marginalized people, who are criminalized, the shadows that she has to have on her. Like, yeah, life feels like that in our reality, sometimes. But I don't want to brood in it.
I think the author is writing her own story into this, and that is good. People should write their own stories. But the protagonist, she is just caught in that forever cycle of despair that the realized metaphor of the shadows lock her in, in that tragedy of her wife's death and her child already having an extra shadow from birth. She speaks all her snicking sarcasm to try to cope, making things worse for herself, not really being a good parent. I hated her a little. But maybe that is just some sh*tty respectability politics I am feeling. And if that is so, and I know it, it is shining a mirror on my own internalized marginal-phobia. Cringe is cringe at yourself.
I read halfway and then I skipped to the end to see if something shines through. There is maybe something at the end about young people breaking through intergenerational trauma by owning it. But I could not tie it all together and finish it, and I do not think it would have been good. So that is why it is two stars, because it did not reach me personally, because I read genre fiction for fun and this was not fun, not at all.
