“For who will testify, who will accurately describe our lives if we do not do it ourselves?”: Recent Lesbian Memoirs

I’ve been on a memoir reading binge lately. Every time I turned around there seemed to be another lesbian memoir demanding my attention. Below is a list of my recent reads. Though they range in time (the 1950s to the present day) and place (the LES to North Dakota), the issues these women grapple with are the same: coming out, coming into her own, breaking through silences, establishing relationships, becoming the subject of her own story—which is all we can all only strive for, really.

Happy reading.

Riding Fury Home by Chana Wilson

A powerful mother-daughter memoir, contrasting the heart breaking, soul crushing experience of Wilson’s mother (until the women’s movement!) with Wilson’s own coming out. I wished her mom had written a book, but if this is the closest we’ll get, I’ll take it.

My Awesome Place by Cheryl Burke

A survival story—from family dysfunction, drinking, and drugs to poet and powerhouse.

 

 

My Almost Certainly Real Imaginary Jesus by Kelly Barth

If you’ve been raised a certain way and defined by those beliefs, what do you do when you no longer belong? Who are you then? Barth stumbled and struggled down this long, twisty road and it is entirely worth it. Rejecting a particular religious doctrine is only the first step; finding a new theology and a community is just as important and harrowing.

Licking the Spoon by Candace Walsh

Food memoirs always have a place at my table and I really wanted to love this one more. It started out strong for me but as the author comes to terms with her sexuality, leaves her husband, and finds love again, I found myself skimming pages—and missing the food.

Prairie Silence by Melanie Hoffert

Maybe it’s just because I live in New York, but I think I’ve burnt out on the coming of age memoir on the wild streets of NYC in the 1950s/60s/70s/80s/90s. The winds of the North Dakota plains were very welcome here and Hoffert’s poignant sketch of rural life, coming out—and going back home—is a welcome new voice.

Wine Dark Seas: Thank You Mary Renault

Working my way down the library shelves after finishing the last Jean Plaidy on offer at my small local public library, I discovered Mary Renault. And I fell in love with her books on ancient Greece and mythology. From The King Must Die about Theseus to The Persian Boy told from the perspective of Alexander the Great’s lover, these books transported me and were some of the first books I read with gay content: Two men could be lovers. At the time, I had no idea Renault was a lesbian who lived with her partner in Cape Town, South Africa; I just knew she brought myth and legend to full-bodied life. She was a pioneer who affected many young readers, gay especially, and she should get her full measure.

While her books still have a prominent place on my shelf—especially the first edition hardcover of The Mask of Apollo I picked up for a $1 at a garage sale—I hadn’t read one in years. And then I read Daniel Mendelsohn’s wonderful tribute to her in the New Yorker a few weeks ago (and video). Now my challenge is deciding which one to read first…after I finish Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles which brings the events of the Iliad to life through the eyes of Patroclus, Achilles’ closest companion and lover.

In these dark days of winter, I encourage you to visit these wine dark seas.

Now if only there were some with lesbians…

Lesbian Lit Wish List 2013: And Party Like It’s Venice, 1713 at Masq

Sick of reading best of lists? So am I. Instead, I’m going to look ahead, to the books I’d like to read in 2013 (and beyond):

1. Eminent Outlaws, the lesbian version. If you haven’t read Christopher Bram’s excellent and marvelously gossipy literary history of the gay (male) writers after WWII who shaped American culture, then I can think of few better ways to spend some cold January afternoons. As Bram rightly points out, we should write our own history. Let’s.

2. Random Family, the homeless gay teen version. Random Family, about growing up in the South Bronx, remains one of my favorite books of all time. I would love to see Rachel Aviv extend her feature on homeless gay teens that appeared recently in the New Yorker into a book. Maybe she already is; here’s hoping.

3. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?/Gone Girl, the lesbian version. It doesn’t even need be that dysfunctional but I want a book about lesbian relationships, warts and all, fights and all, wittily and well told—or at least a page-turner.

4. More memoirs like Jennifer Hauseman’s recent Modern Love piece in the New York Times. Basically, more non-celebrity, non-coming out (though I do still love a good coming out story) looks at lesbian lives or interesting lives that happen to be led like lesbians.

And just for the record, my favorites this year:

Nonfiction: Winterson’s Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Fiction: Avery’s The Last Nude

My best book of 2013 overall:

Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel

Now if she would turn to a lesbian figure in history….

But let’s have some fun in the meantime—and support an eminently necessary organization. Join me for what promises to be an awesome evening of elegant dress, mysterious masks, and old fashioned mayhem on Sat, Feb 2 at the Bowery Hotel to support The Center (the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center, NYC). Here’s the link to purchase tickets. If you are coming, please list me (Julia Pastore) as a host. Would be fantastic to see you! Well, without your mask….

Pass the Chaos, Lesbian Edition

As the folks at Zola Books rightly point out, ‘tis the season for feasting and family dysfunction and there are an abundance of excellent books on the many ways a family can be unhappy. This got me thinking about the uniquely lesbian version of this: dyke drama. And so, herewith, my top 3 books on the kind of doomed, tragic, drama-filled relationships that are infinitely better to read about than live through:

#3 The Last Nude by Ellis Avery

What is it they say about never getting involved with actors? Well, Rafaela Fano gets a quick, brutal lesson on the dangers of artists.

#2 Aimee & Jaguar by Erica Fischer

A German housewife married to a Nazi officer meets a Jew living underground in Berlin during WWII. This was never going to end well even if Lilly “Aimee” Wust wasn’t a study in delusion and dysfunction.

#1 Nightwood by Djuna Barnes

Love it or hate it, if you’ve ever sat on the sidelines, forgotten, watching a lover go from “table to table, from drink to drink, from person to person” you’ll feel for Nora Flood.

If the purpose is connection, embrace digital: To Sinister Wisdom and any other heretofore-unknown lesbian journals I wish I could easily access

Lambda Literary recently interviewed Julie Enszer, the co-editor of Sinister Wisdom (awesome name!), the oldest surviving lesbian literary journal now celebrating 37 years of publishing. First off, who knew? I for one did not. I had never heard of this journal of fiction, reviews, photography, and poetry before and am pretty damn impressed at its ability to continue on for nearly four decades—with volunteers, a shoestring budget, and minimal (truly a pittance) subscription fees, no less.

But I won’t be reading the content any time soon. Why? Because the journal is only available in a physical edition and I can’t be bothered mailing away for a hardcopy subscription. I don’t want to wait and I don’t want any more paper piled up in my apartment—saturation point has been reached. That may sound obnoxious to some but I doubt I’m alone. If the journal was available digitally (on the web or as an ebook/download) or parts of it were, I’d be all over it—and I’d pay for it like I do for the well-done long-form journalism at The Atavist among other digital content I consume.

But Sinister Wisdom is committed to publishing only in physical format. Why?:

“Because we love print. We love having objects to hold in our hands. We love creating things for lesbians to hold, caress, and cherish. The tradition of Sinister Wisdom has been as a journal and we are continuing that tradition. I hope that it won’t be necessary economically to move to publishing online only. Though we have just upgraded our website at www.SinisterWisdom.org and we see the web as an important way to reach people. But we also see the value of print journals. They require us to think carefully about words and arguments. On the web, publishing is a bit more ephemeral—mistakes can be corrected quickly and easily—but it is less portable. Books can go anywhere and mistakes that we make are in them forever. Book publishing is slower and in some ways more permanent. That’s why we continue to publish in print, because we want there to be a permanent record of lesbian lives and concerns.”

Putting aside any of the very real practical considerations like the additional money and womanpower needed to publish electronically, I’d like to unpack this reasoning:

“Because we love print.”: And that’s a very good reason to print a physical edition but it shouldn’t exclude a digital one as well. I love print too (note saturation point above), but I like good content more. Making the journal a beautiful object should not mutually exclude making the content accessible to the widest possible audience through a digital edition as well.

“They require us to think carefully about words and arguments.”: Any writer or editor worthy of the name thinks carefully about their words and arguments before presenting them to an audience in any format (if their name is attached to it). Digital publishing is not inherently sloppy or ill conceived. It can be, just as any physical book can be. If anything else, publishing digitally is more risky as the audience is potentially much larger and the response quicker and more viral.

“It’s less portable.”: Totally true before the ereaders, tablets, and smartphone explosion but my kindle and iphone are much more portable than a lot of the hardcovers cramming my shelves.

“A permanent record.”: Barring catastrophic meltdown, digital files are much more permanent than print.  We just don’t make books (paper, really) like we used to—your average one will yellow, break, and crumble within a few years. The major libraries and universities (and google) know this which is why the conversion of their collections to digital is so important. Believe me, I’d rather be in the Bodleian with a fifteenth century illuminated manuscript between my linen gloved fingers but if the choice is between no access and digital access, I’ll take the digital.

I don’t want to pick on Sinister Wisdom. They have a lot on their plate already and maybe digital seems like one more “to do” on an already impossibly long list. Or maybe they really don’t see the value of digital publishing. But I hope they’ll reconsider. Their hope that that “Sinister Wisdom has the effect of encouraging and nurturing lesbian creativity so that lesbian writers and artists can use their work as a platform to connecting with the LGBTQ communities and with broader reader communities as well” is an admirable one and I’d like to do my part to encourage, nurture, and connect. But a lot of connections are happening online now and I think it’s crucial to go where the connections are. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to share, like, FB, tweet, or otherwise engage with this content across our various networks?

I mean, I did find out about them through a blog after all.

Happy reading.

All We Know: “If you want the damn ball keep it, don’t throw it away.”*

How many books with lesbian subjects are reviewed—let alone glowingly reviewed—in mainstream publications as diverse as The New York Times Book Review, Wall Street Journal, WWD, The New Yorker, and Business Week? (And for a gem from across the pond, see the London Review of Books.) Very, very, very few as far as I can recollect. In fact, I can’t recollect any off the top of my head. A Jeannette Winterson perhaps? Certainly helps to be published by FSG. Be that as it may, now we can point to Lisa Cohen’s recently published biography of three bold women Esther Murphy, Mercedes de Acosta and Madge Garland (at left), All We Know.

That so many publications have taken notice of Cohen’s work is cause enough for celebration but how satisfying and encouraging to read so many unmitigated raves? Very.

So, if you have any interest in the lives, loves, failures, frustrations, and style of little-known lesbians of the early twentieth century or are an avid reader of biographies, you will find a lot to like here. I sure did. Cohen has done an incredible amount of research and it shows on every page. The original interviews, primary research and period details bring these women and their milieu vividly to life.

But by giving each woman her own section, Cohen created a disconnect between these figures that no amount of cross-referencing could ever bridge for me. And then there is the biggest question—what story is the biographer trying to tell with her subjects? If it’s to simply resurrect them from the tomb of history then mission accomplished. But Cohen seems to be after something much bigger here, reflecting on big themes like the nature of failure, modernism, art, and camp as well as the nature of biography itself.

“By bringing these three footnotes into the spotlight, Ms. Cohen allows us to look deeper into our definitions of failure, identity and modernity, while also reappraising the stature of artfulness as opposed to art.”—Wall Street Journal

I felt she was less successful here, raising issues only to have them drift away without any real conclusion (I hoped, in vain it seems, for a closing chapter to bring these many threads to some cohesive whole). And sometimes, it felt as if the ideas were driving the book, with elements of these women’s lives slotted in to prove a particular point. Cohen is hanging a lot on these women and often, as with Murphy and de Acosta particularly, they shuddered under the weight.

“Cohen’s book itself is one of these odd, wayward, portentous things; you don’t quite know where it’s come from; you are stunned by its depths; and you hope its excellence and pertinence and originality will not lead, doomfully, to its sinking without a trace, as fine things connected with the subject of lesbianism have had a way of doing for so long.”—Terry Castle in the London Review of Books

Despite my reservations, this book passed my “Am I better for having read this?” test with yards to spare (though if you are struggling with writer’s block, do yourself a favor and skip the Murphy section for now. horrifying.) and hopefully, with the kind of review coverage any author would bleed for All We Know will attract enough readers to keep it afloat for a good long while.

*Madge Garland

And the unforgettable Beth Ditto’s memoir, From Coal to Diamonds, comes out Tuesday. Looks like a little jacket presto-chango since the book was originally announced. Common enough but which do you prefer? I like the original one, on the left, better. More personal and intimate.

Either way, happy reading.

Two Lesbian Writers Who Rock: Sarah Diemer and Malinda Lo

It’s tough being a writer these days, especially a lesbian writer so I’d like to give a shout out to two authors whose work I hope you read if you haven’t already. One is a new discovery for me, and someone who embodies all of the creativity, verve, and spirit of the modern writer making and sharing her art on her own terms. And the second is one whose career I’ve followed from the start and whose mid-career transition to novelist and evolving style continues to impress me.

First up: Sarah Diemer who describes herself as a YA author who “writes novels about girls who love girls, who kick ass and take names, finding the courage to fight for what they believe in, and experiencing a little magic and monsters along the way.” Who could possibly not like that?

I just finished reading The Dark Wife, her re-telling of the Persephone myth with a lesbian twist and while I didn’t love it—the ending left me wanting and I admit to skimming pages once the basic premise was established—I did love and admire how unique, inventive, and richly imagined the world she created was.

Check out the audiobook of The Dark Wife which is available for free download here.

Her new book, The Bone Girl, is coming out shortly on Sept 25, but she has an abundance of paranormal, sci fi, and fantasy novels and short stories to choose from on her website. And, she and her wife have just launched an ambitious short story project on their blog to put out, twice weekly (Mondays and Fridays), free YA stories with lesbian heroines.

Their can-do spirit is infectious, and seriously, she and her wife couldn’t be cuter.

Next: Malinda Lo. The author of Ash and Huntress has just released a new and very different book, Adaptation.  I had been hoping for more in the Ash/Huntress vein of YA fantasy but I appreciate an author who continues to grow and change and push their boundaries, in this case into science fiction. I am sure this will be a reading group pick in the near future and if anyone’s read already, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Check out this Autostraddle interview where she talks about the new book and publishing books with gay characters.

She’ll be in NYC over the next few days (Brooklyn Book Festival!) so check her out if you can. For more events, look here.

Sept. 22, 2012 at 12 p.m. – New York
Out of This World Teen Fiction — A signing with Jessica Shirvington (Entice), Wesley King (The Vindico), Karsten Knight (Embers & Echoes) and Sarah Beth Durst (Vessel)
Books of Wonder
18 West 18th Street
New York, NY 10011

Sept. 23, 2012 at 5 p.m. – Brooklyn
Brooklyn Book Festival — “Ghosts, Goddesses, and Wolves”: A panel with Kendare Blake (Anna Dressed in Blood) and Andrea Cremer (Nightshade), moderated by Jessica Shirvington (Entice)
Location: Youth Stoop (Brooklyn Borough Hall Plaza/Columbus Park)
209 Joralemon Street
Brooklyn, NY

And if you haven’t seen her it gets better video with her partner Amy, talk about another cute couple.

And there must be something in the air. Check out Autostraddle’s reasons to read Santa Olivia immediately. It is definitely climbing up my list.

Happy reading and writing.

I Can’t Think Straight: End of Summer Lesbian Reads

Thanks to everyone for sharing their experiences with e-readers and tablets. I decided to dive into the deep end and bought the most basic Kindle. It arrived about a week ago and so far I have read one novel on it (The Scottish Prisoner by Gabaldon) but have bought 10 which does not bode well for my bank account but woo hoo for one-click ease of purchase. A mixed blessing, yes, but do I like the instant gratification.

And, I actually like reading on it a lot more than I thought I would. It doesn’t hurt my eyes and it doesn’t feel like work. It is early days but I do feel like a little kid with a new toy.

We had a great book club meeting this week and while we did talk about The Young In One Another’s Arms by Jane Rule (I respect it and and Jane Rule am glad I read it but it failed my “I want to pass this to a friend now test”)  we talked a lot more about books we are currently reading or would suggest as summer wanes. A selection of those below, including Scorpion: Sting by June Sadler who was kind enough to bring it to my attention. Check out the website for the book, complete with an excerpt and audio as well as her blog.

Happy reading!

Secret Historian: The Life and Times of Samuel Steward, Professor, Tattoo Artist, and Sexual Renegade By Justin Spring: this one has been on my list for awhile.

Santa Olivia By Jacqueline Carey: werewolves!

Black by Gaslight By Nene Adams: two women + romance + Jack the Ripper = next on my list.

Ship Breaker By Paolo Bacigalupi: “A gritty, high-stakes adventure set in a futuristic world where oil is scarce, but loyalty is scarcer.”

I Can’t Think Straight By Shamim Sarif: Tala, a London-based Palestinian, is preparing for her elaborate Middle Eastern wedding when she meets Leyla, a young British Indian woman who is dating her best friend. Also a pretty good movie.

The Dark Wife By Sarah Diemer: A lesbian re-telling of the Perspehone myth. Awesome. And one I have loaded on to my Kindle already….

Hunting the Slipper: Bringing Back OP Lesbian Books

I love a good comeback story, a phoenix rising from the ashes if you will. So I sincerely appreciate the efforts of folks to bring back books that have gone out of print. Whether or not they should be brought back or are “worthy” enough to go back into print is pretty much beside the point to me—it’s subjective like everything else about publishing.  One person’s classic is another’s bland dreck.

It is about accessibility. I want the opportunity to decide about these books for myself and if I simply can’t get my hands on a copy, there’s no way for me to make up my own mind.

So thank you to Arsenal Pulp Press and Little Sisters bookstore in Vancouver for their Little Sisters Classics imprint, dedicated to reviving OP gay and lesbian books. The book club has read two in the last two months, The Young in One Another’s Arms by Jane Rule (still not sure how I feel about it yet) and Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller (so sorry it took me until now to read it!).  These are handsomely designed and thoughtfully edited editions, with new introductions and additional content to help but the book into context, including reviews and interviews published at the time of original publication.

There are 10 books in the series and I hope they keep publishing. Partnering with a successful LGBTQ bookstore was a really smart way to go as they have a direct line to potential readers and can hand-sell the heck out of them. (And, not just successful but heroic and badass: Little Sister’s was bombed three times in it’s earlier years when it was the only gay and lesbian bookstore in western Canada. More recently Little Sister’s legal battle against censorship and discrimination in the Supreme Court Of Canada continues to broaden and redefine the definitions of obscenity and tolerance in contemporary Canadian society.)

Also, a shout out to Virago Press in the UK, especially their Virago Modern Classics line, the Feminist Press especially their Femme Fatale pulp series (check out their most recent release, Stranger on Lesbos by Valerie Taylor–fun!) and Bywater Books who are all committed to bringing “forgotten” books back into press. Now, if only all of these titles were also available as ebooks, too.

Which is why I’m actually pretty intrigued by the crowd-funding and subscription model of a new sci fi-focused outfit that recently opened a bookstore in DUMBO, Singularity & Co.

“[We’ll] choose one great out of print work of classic and/or obscure sci-fi a month, track down the people that hold the copyright (if they are still around), and publish that work online and on all the major digital book platforms for little or no cost. Every month on this website visitors will get to vote on the next great but not so well remembered work we will rescue from the obscurity of the past.”

Anyone have a favorite lesbian book they’d like to see back in circulation? Did a little spot-checking and to my surprise—and pleasure—many of the lesbian titles I thought would be OP are very much in print. One I would like to see:

Hunt the Slipper by Violet Trefussis

Maybe it’s time to hunt this book….

The Lesbian Lit is Online: To Buy or Not to Buy an Ereader?

After my post wondering where to find lesbian writers and their works, I was thrilled when several authors, like Paula Napier (Salt Spray) and Rachel Eyre (The Governess), let me know about their books. The problem? Their books are both only available as Kindles. And I don’t have one.

I like reading physical books, palming their heft and weight, feeling the grit of the paper.  Hardcovers are rather pricey but they have a sense of importance and permanence. Paperbacks are more affordable, portable, and easy to pass around and share. The books on my shelves are the contents of my mind (more or less) and each one tells a story. I always beeline to a new acquaintance’s bookshelf. You can tell a lot about a person by what they read.

So an ereader didn’t have much appeal. I like the idea of them—the lower prices, the ease and immediacy of purchasing, the number of books, magazines, etc., available on one small device—but I sit in front of a computer for work all day. Reading on a screen, even an e-ink one, felt a lot like work. Ugh. I’m also not comfortable pledging allegiance to a particular retailer.

But am I missing out? As digital publishing and self-publishing has boomed, there are so many more books only available as an ebook that I can’t access with any ease, particularly by new, little known, or as yet undiscovered lesbian writers.

To buy an ereader or not to buy an ereader?

For those of you who have ereaders, check out these suggestions from autostraddle for under $5 titles. (and most, like I Can’t Think Straight, are available as physical books, too!).