en
Carmen Maria Machado

In the Dream House

Obavesti me kada knjiga bude dodata
Da biste čitali ovu knjigu otpremite EPUB ili FB2 datoteku na Bookmate. Kako da otpremim knjigu?
A revolutionary memoir about domestic abuse by the award-winning author of Her Body and Other Parties

In the Dream House is Carmen Maria Machado's engrossing and wildly innovative account of a relationship gone bad, and a bold dissection of the mechanisms and cultural representations of psychological abuse. Tracing the full arc of a harrowing relationship with a charismatic but volatile woman, Machado struggles to make sense of how what happened to her shaped the person she was becoming.
And it's that struggle that gives the book its original structure: each chapter is driven by its own narrative trope—the haunted house, erotica, the bildungsroman—through which Machado holds the events up to the light and examines them from different angles. She looks back at her religious adolescence, unpacks the stereotype of lesbian relationships as safe and utopian, and widens the view with essayistic explorations of…
Ova knjiga je trenutno nedostupna
208 štampanih stranica
Da li već pročitali? Kakvo je vaše mišljenje?
👍👎

Utisci

  • Maeje podelio/la utisakпре 3 године
    👍Vredna čitanja
    🚀Čita se u jednom dahu

    сложно втянуться в повествование, непохожее на другие книги, но когда ты все же ныряешь, оторваться уже нельзя. ты ловишь особое настроение. книга напоминает тягучий кошмар, долгий сон, который никак не кончится; он то пугает жестокостью, то расслабляет приятными моментами (но ты всегда знаешь, что они кончатся, и тревожно этого ждешь).
    подойдет для всех любительниц необычных книг и тех, кто хочет увидеть качественную репрезентацию лгбт-сообщества.

Citati

  • Kingaje citiraoпре 6 месеци
    There is a Panamanian folktale that ends with: “My tale goes only to here; it ends, and the wind carries it off.” It’s the only true kind of ending.

    Sometimes you have to tell a story, and somewhere, you have to stop.
  • Kingaje citiraoпре 6 месеци
    There isn’t a lot of writing about queer domestic abuse and sexual assault. But what I did find, kept me going. I read Conner Habib’s heart-stopping essay “If You Ever Did Write Anything about Me, I’d Want It to Be about Love” in the immediate aftermath of my abuse, and it devastated me and also gave
    me something to hold on to. A few years later, Jane Eaton Hamilton’s exquisite “Never Say I Didn’t Bring You Flowers” gave me new ways to think about what had happened to me. When I was trying to finish this memoir, Leah Horlick’s lush and devastating poetry collection For Your Own Good slayed me with its beauty. Melissa Febos’s essay “Abandon Me” traced queer relationship trauma with brilliance and candor. A chapter in Sawyer Lovett’s Retrospect: A Tazewell’s Favorite Eccentric Zine Anthology—“Hello…”—came to me just when I needed it. Terry Castle’s The Professor made me laugh out loud more than once, which was a pretty shocking thing to do in the middle of writing this book.
  • Kingaje citiraoпре 6 месеци
    We think of clichés as boring and predictable, but they are actually one of the most dangerous things in the world. Your brain can’t engage a cliché, not properly—it skitters right over the phrase or sentence or idea without a second thought. To describe an abusive situation is almost certainly to deploy cliché: “If I can’t have you, no one can.” “Who will believe you?” “It was good, then it was bad, then it was good again.” “If I stayed, I would have died.” Awful and dehumanizing, and yet straight out of central casting. This triteness, this predictability, has a flattening effect, making singularly boring what is in fact a defining and terrible experience.

    And so as I waded through account after account of queer domestic abuse, little details stood out. This is the one that stuck with me the most:

    A woman named Anne Franklin wrote an essay about her own abuse in Gay Community News in 1984. Her blonde, femme lover—a healer who gave massages and did star charts; who had, before meeting her, almost become a nun—once stoned her on a beach in France. “I know it sounds incredible,” she wrote. “The image is cartoonish.” She swam out into the water to escape the stoning. (The stoning.52 This image has followed me for so long; what both has been and is a punishment for homosexuality, inflicted by the woman she loved. Swimming out into the ocean to get away. Stone. Stone butch. Stonewall. Queer history studded with stones, like jewelry.) “Later,” she wrote, “we both laughed about it.” Laughed about how she, Anne, was stoned on a beach in France. How she ran deeper and deeper into the water, like D-Day in reverse.

Na policama za knjige

fb2epub
Prevucite i otpustite datoteke (ne više od 5 odjednom)