May 30, 2010

After hearing her name a million times, I finally got ahold of one of Dodie Bellamy’s books! It felt like… um, not like coming home, because that’s a pretty boring way to put something. But it made sense to me; the whole thing is a meditation on the discomfort/awkwardness that comes from the necessity of writing experimental- or “experimental”- fiction. It makes sense that she’s the lady one who hangs out with Dennis Cooper and Kevin Killian and those folks. I’m trying to think of a way to say “she does kind of a lady version of what they do” that doesn’t sound kind of, like, grounded on bullshit assumptions of what a “lady version” of something would be, but she does spend time interrogating exactly that subject- what it’s like to be the mostly straight woman who grew up as a writer among queer men writing in a style they came up with. Ish. Anyway, she is funny and bad ass and smart and I bought a ton of her other books from Small Press Distribution when I finished this one. W000t.

(this review is from my old goodreads account.)


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