Status
Checked out
Publication
Graywolf Press (2015), Edition: 1St Edition, Hardcover, 160 pages
Description
An intrepid voyage out to the frontiers of the latest thinking about love, language, and family. Maggie Nelson's The Argonauts is a genre-bending memoir, a work of "autotheory" offering fresh, fierce, and timely thinking about desire, identity, and the limitations and possibilities of love and language. At its center is a romance: the story of the author's relationship with the artist Harry Dodge. This story, which includes Nelson's account of falling in love with Dodge, who is fluidly gendered, as well as her journey to and through a pregnancy, is an intimate portrayal of the complexities and joys of (queer) family-making. Writing in the spirit of public intellectuals such as Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes, Nelson binds her personal experience to a rigorous exploration of what iconic theorists have said about sexuality, gender, and the vexed institutions of marriage and child-rearing. Nelson's insistence on radical individual freedom and the value of caretaking becomes the rallying cry of this thoughtful, unabashed, uncompromising book.… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member Narshkite
If Plato was right that an unexamined life is not worth living, Nelson's life is the most worthwhile of lives. Those of us who may have been accused of over-analyzing our relationships should rest easy, for we are all amateurs. Nelson examines and casts into the light every aspect of her
This is a slim volume, but I careened back and forth throughout between being transfixed and engulfed on the one hand and being repelled and rolling my eyes (SO MUCH eye rolling) on the other. That careening had me thinking throughout this would be a 3-star (with notes) but a lovely and instructive portion quite near the end equating the end of the life of Dodge's mother and the beginning of life for Nelson and Dodge's son, Iggy, pushed it to a high 3, rounded to 4.
Nelson is brilliant, of that there is no doubt, and her life is interesting. That she shares by bouncing back and forth between raw personal experience and a rather scholarly meander through literature on ontology, linguistics, psychology, and more is cool and challenging. It makes for a book that takes one's full attention. I like that. I realized I don't read a lot which really challenges me. While I don't want a steady diet of intellectual wrestling, I find I really miss the occasional bout.
That said, though Nelson has a far better knowledge and understanding of philosophy than I, I am bothered that she equates the greatest thinkers in the Western canon with Annie Sprinkle and other performance artists. All respect to Annie (I have seen her cervix, so I feel like we are on a first name basis) but while getting on stage and sucking dildos and then masturbating is strong messaging, it is not Thus Spake Zarathustra (even though it might contain more truth.) The urgency to see great value in all queer thought, all queer theory is silly and self-indulgent. And though it is clear throughout that Nelson is wildly self-indulgent, possibly pathologically self-indulgent, she does not appear silly other than when she waxes poetic about essentially every queer intellectual writing today. Nelson is in love with her queerness in a way that clouds her judgement. The equation of great thinkers and interesting people who are cultural commentators publicly orgasming about women's autonomy (for me that is a bit "dancing about architecture" but ymmv) is tied up in that sort of messaging that everything by people who identify as queer and comment on queerness is good. That is clearly not true and it dings up the rest.
Also worth mentioning, Nelson comes from that group of parents who believe they invented the job and the experience. I am happy parenting gives her joy, and that she is very intentional about the responsibility. Parenting changed my life too, and let me know that there was a whole facet of love separate from, and honestly greater than, all my prior loving and being in love. But good god woman, enough! You may experience wonder at nursing and seeing your placenta, but we don't. When I nursed I mostly thought, of the words of Murphy Brown; nursing is like finding out you can get bacon out of your elbow. Nelson though assumes everyone experiences nursing as an erotic experience. (I did not, I swear.) She extrapolates from that the "fact" that we are all so bothered by those sexual feelings that we force ourselves to not find joy in breastfeeding and to hide the act. Your experience of motherhood is yours Maggie, don't overtalk it, and don't assume is is the paradigm. Its just another mother child bond, like the many billions that preceded it.
In the end Nelson sucks you in and brings new perspective to life and death and birth, and she challenges assumptions with mostly cogent positions. I was also immersed in Nelson's exploration of identity and what we choose as our identifiers and even more so by the discussion of language which permeated the text. On that point, the material about words as a talisman was fascinating and moving. Also the changing definition of "I love you" or really of any words, and the truth that what we mean but what we say changes with context and must be repeatedly redefined. Ideas like this sustain me and I am grateful to Nelson for giving me a framework within which I can think about that and for inviting me into her own consideration. Worthwhile for the right reader. 3.5 it is.
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relationship with Harry Dodge, from the many-didldoed anal sex of their first date (this in on page 1 -- no spoilers) to their life as nesting parents.This is a slim volume, but I careened back and forth throughout between being transfixed and engulfed on the one hand and being repelled and rolling my eyes (SO MUCH eye rolling) on the other. That careening had me thinking throughout this would be a 3-star (with notes) but a lovely and instructive portion quite near the end equating the end of the life of Dodge's mother and the beginning of life for Nelson and Dodge's son, Iggy, pushed it to a high 3, rounded to 4.
Nelson is brilliant, of that there is no doubt, and her life is interesting. That she shares by bouncing back and forth between raw personal experience and a rather scholarly meander through literature on ontology, linguistics, psychology, and more is cool and challenging. It makes for a book that takes one's full attention. I like that. I realized I don't read a lot which really challenges me. While I don't want a steady diet of intellectual wrestling, I find I really miss the occasional bout.
That said, though Nelson has a far better knowledge and understanding of philosophy than I, I am bothered that she equates the greatest thinkers in the Western canon with Annie Sprinkle and other performance artists. All respect to Annie (I have seen her cervix, so I feel like we are on a first name basis) but while getting on stage and sucking dildos and then masturbating is strong messaging, it is not Thus Spake Zarathustra (even though it might contain more truth.) The urgency to see great value in all queer thought, all queer theory is silly and self-indulgent. And though it is clear throughout that Nelson is wildly self-indulgent, possibly pathologically self-indulgent, she does not appear silly other than when she waxes poetic about essentially every queer intellectual writing today. Nelson is in love with her queerness in a way that clouds her judgement. The equation of great thinkers and interesting people who are cultural commentators publicly orgasming about women's autonomy (for me that is a bit "dancing about architecture" but ymmv) is tied up in that sort of messaging that everything by people who identify as queer and comment on queerness is good. That is clearly not true and it dings up the rest.
Also worth mentioning, Nelson comes from that group of parents who believe they invented the job and the experience. I am happy parenting gives her joy, and that she is very intentional about the responsibility. Parenting changed my life too, and let me know that there was a whole facet of love separate from, and honestly greater than, all my prior loving and being in love. But good god woman, enough! You may experience wonder at nursing and seeing your placenta, but we don't. When I nursed I mostly thought, of the words of Murphy Brown; nursing is like finding out you can get bacon out of your elbow. Nelson though assumes everyone experiences nursing as an erotic experience. (I did not, I swear.) She extrapolates from that the "fact" that we are all so bothered by those sexual feelings that we force ourselves to not find joy in breastfeeding and to hide the act. Your experience of motherhood is yours Maggie, don't overtalk it, and don't assume is is the paradigm. Its just another mother child bond, like the many billions that preceded it.
In the end Nelson sucks you in and brings new perspective to life and death and birth, and she challenges assumptions with mostly cogent positions. I was also immersed in Nelson's exploration of identity and what we choose as our identifiers and even more so by the discussion of language which permeated the text. On that point, the material about words as a talisman was fascinating and moving. Also the changing definition of "I love you" or really of any words, and the truth that what we mean but what we say changes with context and must be repeatedly redefined. Ideas like this sustain me and I am grateful to Nelson for giving me a framework within which I can think about that and for inviting me into her own consideration. Worthwhile for the right reader. 3.5 it is.
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LibraryThing member RidgewayGirl
The Argonauts is an extended personal essay by Maggie Nelson about her relationship with a gender fluid trans man, their marriage, the family they form and her experience with pregnancy and motherhood. Nelson examines what it's like to be transgressive and queer and yet be living a traditional
Structured without chapters, but organized into short segments of thought, The Argonauts reminded me of the novel Department of Speculation, in structure and subject. The structure worked well for me, as much of the issues she addressed were either well outside of my comfort zone or familiar subjects approached from an angle I'd never viewed them from before. This was not a work written for me, someone largely unfamiliar with what life is like for those who fall outside of what is considered the norm in sexual and gender orientation, and her habit of referring to the people she's responding to solely by their surnames often left me stranded. But much of what Nelson describes is familiar to me, as she discusses her pregnancy and people's reaction to her pregnancy, as well as her experience of being a mother.
This is a meaty book, with much packed into a few pages, but what I have taken away from The Argonauts is the impossibility of a single person being a representative of the queer community, as there is such a wide range of lived experience and ways of living their lives, and the sheer universality and uniqueness of each person's experience with motherhood. This is an thought-provoking book and while much of it was inaccessible to me without a lot of research on my part, I nonetheless learned a great deal.
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life, thinking through aspects of her life with ample references to queer thinkers, arguing and agreeing with what they have said. Structured without chapters, but organized into short segments of thought, The Argonauts reminded me of the novel Department of Speculation, in structure and subject. The structure worked well for me, as much of the issues she addressed were either well outside of my comfort zone or familiar subjects approached from an angle I'd never viewed them from before. This was not a work written for me, someone largely unfamiliar with what life is like for those who fall outside of what is considered the norm in sexual and gender orientation, and her habit of referring to the people she's responding to solely by their surnames often left me stranded. But much of what Nelson describes is familiar to me, as she discusses her pregnancy and people's reaction to her pregnancy, as well as her experience of being a mother.
This is a meaty book, with much packed into a few pages, but what I have taken away from The Argonauts is the impossibility of a single person being a representative of the queer community, as there is such a wide range of lived experience and ways of living their lives, and the sheer universality and uniqueness of each person's experience with motherhood. This is an thought-provoking book and while much of it was inaccessible to me without a lot of research on my part, I nonetheless learned a great deal.
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LibraryThing member poetontheone
A memoir that seamlessly blends personal history, social criticism, and critical theory. A captivating reflection on sexuality, love art, and motherhood that contains pointed observations on gender, sexism, and the powers of art and human intimacy to save our lives, if not our society. One of the
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best memoirs I have read in years. Show Less
LibraryThing member ecataldi
A quick enlightening read, this genre bending memoir is a provoking look at identity, family, love, and emotion. It reads like stream of consciousness and jumps around to discuss pregnancy, gender fluidity, child rearing, stalking, and more. An empowering read that many will benefit from reading,
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although some will struggle with the free form writing style that jumps around from thought to thought. Not my favorite per say, but it contains many powerful messages that need to be heard. Show Less
LibraryThing member muddyboy
This is an interesting memoir told by the author about her relationships with various people and subjects such as sexuality, gender roles, homosexuality and childbirth. Her principle "other" was born a female but is now taking on the male gender. His name is Harry and he brings a young boy from a
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previous relationship into the mix. Harry and Maggie (the author) want to have a child together and so Maggie is artificially inseminated and they have a son Iggy. This is a well written book but you might be sensing that I am having a tough time describing it as it not a book the can be pigeonholed. Only a person with an open mind should read this book. Show Less
LibraryThing member rivercityreading
If you mix together one part theory, one part memoir, and a hearty dose of love story, you’ll end up with something like Maggie Nelson’s new book The Argonauts. Nelson’s story follows both the birth of her relationship with Harry Dodge, who is fluidly gendered, and the birth of their son.
“That hormones can make the feel of wind, or the feel of fingers on one’s skin, change from arousing to nauseating is a mystery deeper than I can track or fathom. The mysteries of psychology pale in comparison, just as evolution strikes me as infinitely more spiritually profound than Genesis.”
As I read The Argonauts, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation. Though Offill’s work is fiction, both pieces shift big ideas into compact spaces and read like a collection of swirling thoughts. Much as I felt after reading Dept. of Speculation, as soon as I closed The Argonauts I knew it was a book I would pick up again (and again and again). Perfect for book groups looking for the challenge of digging deep, Maggie Nelson has penned a piece with endless opportunities for questioning and discussion.
More at rivercityreading.com
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Between the narrative of their meeting, marriage and family-building, Nelson digs deep into questions of gender, sexuality, motherhood, and the individual. Though she turns to various thinkers as a base for many ideas, her commentary feels fresh and incredibly timely.“That hormones can make the feel of wind, or the feel of fingers on one’s skin, change from arousing to nauseating is a mystery deeper than I can track or fathom. The mysteries of psychology pale in comparison, just as evolution strikes me as infinitely more spiritually profound than Genesis.”
As I read The Argonauts, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation. Though Offill’s work is fiction, both pieces shift big ideas into compact spaces and read like a collection of swirling thoughts. Much as I felt after reading Dept. of Speculation, as soon as I closed The Argonauts I knew it was a book I would pick up again (and again and again). Perfect for book groups looking for the challenge of digging deep, Maggie Nelson has penned a piece with endless opportunities for questioning and discussion.
More at rivercityreading.com
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LibraryThing member railarson
In a pale reflection of how Maggie Nelson’s partner does not identify as male or female, I don’t feel the need to identify as having liked or hated this book. At times pedantic, at other times unflinchingly honest, reading this was to experience what I imagine looking out of Nelson eyes is
Nelson seeks to bolster her personal experience with quotations of what I take are prominent thinkers and writers in the field of queer theory. Without context, however, I did feel that she was writing with some alternative Bartlett’s at her side. More than anything, it was this demanding of certain foreknowledge that, as a reader, made me feel that this book was just not written for me. That’s fine.
Her recounting of her beautifully messy journey to motherhood was amazingly honest and touching, as was the story of the passing of her partner’s mother. Here, Harry Dodge’s voice, which throughout the book is often a calm voice of reason, made me wish that I was reading Dodge’s take on everything, but that would be a different book altogether.
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like. With that in mind, it is a very brave undertaking.Nelson seeks to bolster her personal experience with quotations of what I take are prominent thinkers and writers in the field of queer theory. Without context, however, I did feel that she was writing with some alternative Bartlett’s at her side. More than anything, it was this demanding of certain foreknowledge that, as a reader, made me feel that this book was just not written for me. That’s fine.
Her recounting of her beautifully messy journey to motherhood was amazingly honest and touching, as was the story of the passing of her partner’s mother. Here, Harry Dodge’s voice, which throughout the book is often a calm voice of reason, made me wish that I was reading Dodge’s take on everything, but that would be a different book altogether.
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LibraryThing member kaylaraeintheway
A beautiful (if sometimes hard to follow) personal account of a woman in a queer relationship (her husband is Harry Dodge, an artist and fluidly-gendered). Maggie Nelson ruminates on everything from love to gender roles to politics to parenting, and while her forays into queer and feminist theory
The last 20 pages were my favorite, as she juxtaposed her account of giving birth with Harry's experience of watching his mother die. Maggie is very forthcoming and unashamed of her insecurities. I'm glad that she wrote this book, and I'm glad that I read it.
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are at times slow-moving, how she applies her studies of these topics to her life as it is now is fascinating. I'm simplifying things, but that is only because I cannot adequately describe or discuss the things she sets forth in this book. I recommend just picking it up for yourself and giving it a go.The last 20 pages were my favorite, as she juxtaposed her account of giving birth with Harry's experience of watching his mother die. Maggie is very forthcoming and unashamed of her insecurities. I'm glad that she wrote this book, and I'm glad that I read it.
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LibraryThing member reganrule
This book is a exploration (and praise) of what Maggie Nelson calls (borrowing from Susan Fraiman) the "sodomitic mother." The key to the sodomitic mother is understanding that her pleasure does not come purely from procreative or reproductive activity; she acknowledges and demands others to
Like the original Argonauts, Nelson intrepidly pursues a dangerous and heroic mission--in her case, to love who and how she sees fit. But the title owes more to Roland Barthes, and more to philosophy than it owes to Greek mythology. Nelson attempts to describe to Harry, her transitioning partner, what she meant by her orgasmic "I love you": saying it "is like 'the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name'" (quoting Barthes). Jason's Argo becomes the Ship of Theseus: an Ancient paradox. The paradox runs like this: can you still call the Argo "The Argo," even when all of its original components have been replaced--while at sea?
If I were a new(ish) lover receiving this explanation for a premature ejaculation of love, I would be very confused. I might ask who represents the ship being renewed and who the deckhand renewing it, or I might ask if the ship's name should not be reconsidered in light of a new crew? The apparent confusion of the metaphor makes sense only when one considers its philosophical context. 'The Ship of Theseus' was reintroduced in the 1930s by Otto Neurath, a "physicalist" and scientific philosopher who espoused a non-foundationalist epistemology.
"There is no way to establish fully secured, neat protocol statements as starting points of the sciences. There is no tabula rasa. We are like sailors who have to rebuild their ship on the open sea, without ever being able to dismantle it in dry-dock and reconstruct it from its best components. Only metaphysics can disappear without a trace. Imprecise ‘verbal clusters’ [Ballungen] are somehow always part of the ship. If imprecision is diminished at one place, it may well re-appear at another place to a stronger degree" (Neurath 1932/1983, 92).
This is Nelson's point. We are no tabula rasa(s? ae?). We are imprinted continuously with socio-cultural ideas of what it is to be woman, man, mother, father. That is the ship we're stuck with. It is our duty to repair, mend, and/or replace worn out notions, and to sail forward, onward. This isn't a process that involves a ground razing nor a starting from scratch. You are already asea, adrift, with no terra firma in sight. The process, as we see, is slow. But steady. Both active and reactive.
The Neurathian boat is not just a problem for trans/queer/LGB individuals. It is the reality for everyone. Barthes hits on something when he says that "I love you" is something like a continuous affirmation of the ship we come in on. Here we are, ever changing, ever loving.
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acknowledge that her sexuality far exceeds her biological function. The term itself should serve as a signal to the reader of what is to come: the destabilization of conventional mothering, heavily informed by psychoanalytic and feminist theory. What appears as gratuitous in first paragraph--the author in the throes of anal orgasm--is, in fact, a crucial theme of her memoir(?). The author enjoys anal sex, yes, but that is only one of the more minor ways in which her sexuality is "deviant." (Note the scare quotes). Like the original Argonauts, Nelson intrepidly pursues a dangerous and heroic mission--in her case, to love who and how she sees fit. But the title owes more to Roland Barthes, and more to philosophy than it owes to Greek mythology. Nelson attempts to describe to Harry, her transitioning partner, what she meant by her orgasmic "I love you": saying it "is like 'the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name'" (quoting Barthes). Jason's Argo becomes the Ship of Theseus: an Ancient paradox. The paradox runs like this: can you still call the Argo "The Argo," even when all of its original components have been replaced--while at sea?
If I were a new(ish) lover receiving this explanation for a premature ejaculation of love, I would be very confused. I might ask who represents the ship being renewed and who the deckhand renewing it, or I might ask if the ship's name should not be reconsidered in light of a new crew? The apparent confusion of the metaphor makes sense only when one considers its philosophical context. 'The Ship of Theseus' was reintroduced in the 1930s by Otto Neurath, a "physicalist" and scientific philosopher who espoused a non-foundationalist epistemology.
"There is no way to establish fully secured, neat protocol statements as starting points of the sciences. There is no tabula rasa. We are like sailors who have to rebuild their ship on the open sea, without ever being able to dismantle it in dry-dock and reconstruct it from its best components. Only metaphysics can disappear without a trace. Imprecise ‘verbal clusters’ [Ballungen] are somehow always part of the ship. If imprecision is diminished at one place, it may well re-appear at another place to a stronger degree" (Neurath 1932/1983, 92).
This is Nelson's point. We are no tabula rasa(s? ae?). We are imprinted continuously with socio-cultural ideas of what it is to be woman, man, mother, father. That is the ship we're stuck with. It is our duty to repair, mend, and/or replace worn out notions, and to sail forward, onward. This isn't a process that involves a ground razing nor a starting from scratch. You are already asea, adrift, with no terra firma in sight. The process, as we see, is slow. But steady. Both active and reactive.
The Neurathian boat is not just a problem for trans/queer/LGB individuals. It is the reality for everyone. Barthes hits on something when he says that "I love you" is something like a continuous affirmation of the ship we come in on. Here we are, ever changing, ever loving.
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LibraryThing member asxz
Can something be overhyped AND pretty spectacular?
There is so much going on here that is fairly opaque to me about gender identity and body awareness. So much of what is up in the air here is stuff I take for granted.
But this is still clear-sighted, practical, accessible and shot through with the
There is so much going on here that is fairly opaque to me about gender identity and body awareness. So much of what is up in the air here is stuff I take for granted.
But this is still clear-sighted, practical, accessible and shot through with the
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universal trail of crumbs that is love and parenting. Show Less
LibraryThing member Calavari
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson Personally, I loved the rambling style of the book. At first, it was a little annoying. I was never sure if she was talking to me as the reader directly, if she was talking to her partner, herself, or just the world in general the way any other nonfiction writer
I've sat and pumped for many cumulative hours as well. I've drifted in and out of the various thoughts on the world that come when you are not with your child but still giving him (in my case, he's a him also) nourishment. I've drifted in and out of that feeling of spirituality that comes with that I am somehow tied to being more animal than human, but never feeling less human than I had before. It's confusing and reassuring and painful, and so is this book.
It may get a little weird sometimes, but people are weird. I used to think the weird ramblings of my mind were partial to me somehow, that there was something wrong with me. In the long succession of feminist writing that I've read in this fourth wave, I've learned that I am not weird. People are weird. Strange and uncomfortable thoughts come unbidden to our minds. Nelson has shared those thoughts with us. She has opened up her mind and her life for us to see, even for those who feel the need, to judge. That was the really powerful thing about the book.
She doesn't really make a grand statement on transgenderism or living outside the gender binary or being a lesbian or the LGBTQ movement as a whole. She just exposes the feelings, the way that life doesn't have to be more complicated and the ways that it does.
I very interesting book. I hope all feminists read it. I'm glad it was on the Our Shared Shelf reading list for May. I look forward to the discussions.
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might. I was never certain what the topic was or what it might be leaning to. It came together for me when she started talking about how much of the book was written while pumping. I've sat and pumped for many cumulative hours as well. I've drifted in and out of the various thoughts on the world that come when you are not with your child but still giving him (in my case, he's a him also) nourishment. I've drifted in and out of that feeling of spirituality that comes with that I am somehow tied to being more animal than human, but never feeling less human than I had before. It's confusing and reassuring and painful, and so is this book.
It may get a little weird sometimes, but people are weird. I used to think the weird ramblings of my mind were partial to me somehow, that there was something wrong with me. In the long succession of feminist writing that I've read in this fourth wave, I've learned that I am not weird. People are weird. Strange and uncomfortable thoughts come unbidden to our minds. Nelson has shared those thoughts with us. She has opened up her mind and her life for us to see, even for those who feel the need, to judge. That was the really powerful thing about the book.
She doesn't really make a grand statement on transgenderism or living outside the gender binary or being a lesbian or the LGBTQ movement as a whole. She just exposes the feelings, the way that life doesn't have to be more complicated and the ways that it does.
I very interesting book. I hope all feminists read it. I'm glad it was on the Our Shared Shelf reading list for May. I look forward to the discussions.
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LibraryThing member Bodagirl
It was an interesting book. I was expecting more of a straight memoir, but Nelson mixed in (rather stream of conscious) a lot of queer and gender theory that I'm not familiar with. For me the best portions of the book were Nelson's relationship with Harry Dodge, her struggles to get pregnant, and
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her take on motherhood. Show Less
LibraryThing member AliceaP
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson was the May book from the feminist book club on Goodreads called Our Shared Shelf started by Emma Watson. This book was written in a style that I was completely unfamiliar with and which at first really threw me off. It's written almost as a stream of consciousness
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where there are broken paragraphs that at first seem as if they have no connection to one another. In fact, the first paragraph is a detailed description of the author engaging in anal sex. I guess she likes to shock the reader and/or pull them immediately into her narrative. (Hint: It worked.) This is the story of the author as she begins a relationship with her gender fluid partner (now spouse) and the navigating of that relationship while deciding to have a child together. She also becomes a stepparent to Harry's son from a prior relationship which is completely new territory in and of itself. Since reading The Argonauts, I have embarked on a campaign of knowledge about Nelson because this book is simply a snapshot of a few years of hers and Harry's lives. At the time that she was experiencing the struggles of trying to get pregnant Harry was undergoing changes as well (I don't want to give this away because it's such a powerful part of the book). Her description of her internalized experience as well as the observations of those around her are unique and frankly thrilling to read. Her writing is brash, dynamic, and surprising. She hits back against stereotypes of what it means to be gendered, queer, and in touch with oneself. In short, it's a powerful book that seeks to wake the slumbering activist in all of us. I highly recommend this one. Show Less
LibraryThing member weeta
"The way Sedgwick interprets it, it wasn't just her linking of a canonical writer with the filthy specter of self-pleasuring that struck her critics as depraved. More galling was the spectacle of a writer or thinker - be it Sedgwick or Austen -- who finds her work happy-making, and who celebrates
Worse still, in a culture committed to bleeding the humanities to death, along with any other labors of love that don't serve the God of capital: the spectacle of someone who likes her pointless, perverse work and gets paid -- even paid well -- for it."
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it publicly as such. Worse still, in a culture committed to bleeding the humanities to death, along with any other labors of love that don't serve the God of capital: the spectacle of someone who likes her pointless, perverse work and gets paid -- even paid well -- for it."
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LibraryThing member gayla.bassham
I did not love this, and I had hoped I would. This is my first Nelson, and I'd heard such good things, both about the book and about her. But this fell flat to me. There are some nice moments -- for example, Nelson's realization that she is producing breast milk just before her son's birth -- but
I am not a theory person. I like concrete events and specific descriptions and this book is heavy on theory and light on particulars.
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in general Nelson came across to me as both too self-absorbed and a bit too impressed with herself. Her relationship with Harry Dodge remains shadowy throughout the book -- maybe this is due to Dodge's own excisions, but it's still problematic. I am not a theory person. I like concrete events and specific descriptions and this book is heavy on theory and light on particulars.
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LibraryThing member franoscar
Could there be spoilers?
I really liked this book. I found it well-written and interesting and thought-provoking. I don't agree with everything, I don't think every point was equally profound (or true). But I am glad that I read it & I hope to read other books by this author.
I really liked this book. I found it well-written and interesting and thought-provoking. I don't agree with everything, I don't think every point was equally profound (or true). But I am glad that I read it & I hope to read other books by this author.
LibraryThing member maribou
Sometimes when I am all excited about a book because I love the look of it and I love the description of it and I love the press that published it and I squealed when I opened up the envelope the publisher sent it to me in and the last time I read a book by this author I read it all in one day and
In this case I needn't have worried.
It's a deeply odd book, intellectual and earthy, crisp and messy, abstract and personal, and lots of other binary pairs and in-betweens. It sometimes made me uncomfortable, and it's not as accessible as Bluets (the book I bought lots of copies of). It's not for everyone. But it was oh so very much for me. What it reminds me of is how when I was 18 and 19 and 20, I would often spend ALL DAY reading nearly-randomly in the stacks of 3 different McGill libraries, and then I would go find one of my friends who, while they'd not usually spent all day reading, were mostly better-educated than I was, and we would bounce ideas and personal stories off of each other until we got all muddied together and tired, at which point we would do something else - fall asleep, cook dinner, get in a laundry fight, cuddle on the couch while looking at Mapplethorpe photos... the options were multiple, and splendid. Anyway, this book makes me feel like I felt on those days, and that is a most welcome thing. It's also one of only a few books I've read that talk about womanhood and motherhood in ways that make me feel more affinity for my mostly-gender, rather than less.
My only regret is that, even though I tried REALLY hard to wait to read it until I could read it all in one day, I gave in to temptation and read it in bits and spurts when I didn't really have much time to read. I could occasionally tell that I wasn't as gloriously immersed in the interconnections and callbacks as I would've been if I hadn't had to interrupt myself. Next time I read it, it will be on a day when I don't have to put it down.
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then bought copies for several friends... I worry that the book itself cannot possibly live up to the level of my hopes for the book.In this case I needn't have worried.
It's a deeply odd book, intellectual and earthy, crisp and messy, abstract and personal, and lots of other binary pairs and in-betweens. It sometimes made me uncomfortable, and it's not as accessible as Bluets (the book I bought lots of copies of). It's not for everyone. But it was oh so very much for me. What it reminds me of is how when I was 18 and 19 and 20, I would often spend ALL DAY reading nearly-randomly in the stacks of 3 different McGill libraries, and then I would go find one of my friends who, while they'd not usually spent all day reading, were mostly better-educated than I was, and we would bounce ideas and personal stories off of each other until we got all muddied together and tired, at which point we would do something else - fall asleep, cook dinner, get in a laundry fight, cuddle on the couch while looking at Mapplethorpe photos... the options were multiple, and splendid. Anyway, this book makes me feel like I felt on those days, and that is a most welcome thing. It's also one of only a few books I've read that talk about womanhood and motherhood in ways that make me feel more affinity for my mostly-gender, rather than less.
My only regret is that, even though I tried REALLY hard to wait to read it until I could read it all in one day, I gave in to temptation and read it in bits and spurts when I didn't really have much time to read. I could occasionally tell that I wasn't as gloriously immersed in the interconnections and callbacks as I would've been if I hadn't had to interrupt myself. Next time I read it, it will be on a day when I don't have to put it down.
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LibraryThing member sushitori
The stuff that passes as scholarly writing these days! This was supposed to be an autobiography about a lesbian and her gender neutral partner, Harry/Harriet, a woman who partially transitioned to male through a mastectomy and testosterone. Instead, it was a disconnected mess that bounced around
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from memoir, to queer theory, to existential criticism. What's worse is that much of the theoretical discussion was often incomprehensible. It seems the author’s main purpose was to wax poetic about female anal eroticism, making it clear that she and Harry share compatible and perfectly matched perversities. Bully for her. In reality, the whole formate of the book, composed of short paragraphs, should have made for a fast read but their randomness and illogical presentation made it difficult to slog through. I might have liked it better if she’d spent more time talking about her unconventional relationship with Harry and their children and less time proselyting about anal eroticism. Show Less
LibraryThing member bragan
In this short, strange book, Maggie Nelson reflects on her life with her spouse, who might perhaps be described as something between transgender and nonbinary; on pregnancy and motherhood; on sex and sexuality and being, to use the word she prefers, queer; on art and death and nonconformity and a
I thought at first that I was going to find this a frustrating read. It's disjointed, full of out-of-context quotes and allusions to things like literary theory (a subject with which I have little patience). But Nelson definitely won me over. She's talking about things very much worth talking about (and perhaps not talked about nearly enough) in a way that's somehow simultaneously contemplative and raw. And while her life and her experiences and perspectives are wildly different from mine in just about every respect, I found myself feeling a certain kinship with her in our apparently mutual frustration with the way in which categories and labels never seem to do justice to the messy, individual specificity of human lives and identities.
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whole bunch of other complicated things.I thought at first that I was going to find this a frustrating read. It's disjointed, full of out-of-context quotes and allusions to things like literary theory (a subject with which I have little patience). But Nelson definitely won me over. She's talking about things very much worth talking about (and perhaps not talked about nearly enough) in a way that's somehow simultaneously contemplative and raw. And while her life and her experiences and perspectives are wildly different from mine in just about every respect, I found myself feeling a certain kinship with her in our apparently mutual frustration with the way in which categories and labels never seem to do justice to the messy, individual specificity of human lives and identities.
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LibraryThing member wellreadcatlady
The Argonauts explores gender fluidity, relationships, sexuality and motherhood from Maggie Nelson's perspective. She is married to Harry Dodge, who was born a woman, identifies as gender fluid and transitioned to a man. They have step child and newborn. She writes about her experience in a raw,
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descriptive way that keeps the reader captivated and provokes thinking about what a family really is in our society today. Show Less
LibraryThing member secondhandrose
This really deserves 6 stars! A very challenging read but beautiful prose and some mind expanding material. Great stuff!
LibraryThing member robfwalter
I did not like the first page or two of this book. I hate self-consciously opaque beginnings. Yeah, yeah, we know that every book begins in the middle of a thought, but you could also just put in a few paragraphs to orient the reader. After that, though, I was on board. I found the prose and the
And what does she write about? Well, a) read the book and find out and b) I think it's radical feminism in the sense that it argues feminism can't be ignored or put on hold. It's everywhere and in everything. She makes structural arguments why this is the case, but she also makes biological arguments. The dirtiness and messiness of the maternal sticks to everything it touches. This book is an angry rebuke to the 1950s patriarchal dream of men who never have to deal with bodily filth or mess, apart from the regrettable necessity of a bowel motion every day or two (or three, given 50s diets in the UK and settler colonial countries). Life is full of excretion and mess and blood and general fluids that people without medical backgrounds can't correctly name. In some countries we might have successfully delegated dealing with all of this to women and people of colour, but I think Nelson is claiming that as a triumph for feminism - women deal with the stuff of life while men muck around with some nonsense or other.
Hmm, I might have gone too far down that track, but it's one of the threads of the book. I held back from giving the book five stars because I'm still not entirely convinced on how important this all is. It obviously matters, but then so does so much other stuff. Why should I concentrate on this? Well, in the case of this book, because it's beautiful and satisfying, but I'd love to read a similarly written book about economics or materials science.
PS: I read the ePub version of this and it kind of sucked because all of the references were put at the end, but they weren't superscripted or anything. In the end I had a pdf of the book on my phone and the actual book on my ereader, which still wasn't the ideal way to read it. So get the paper copy of possible.
PPS: It's astonishing to me that this book has 32,000 reviews. Whatever negative reactions people have to this book, to get 32,000 people responding to a work of theory is phenomenal.
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structure totally compelling and there is a brilliant coherence to the ideas. Nelson ranges from this topic to that, this thinker to that, but the ideas at the heart of her exploration are consistent throughout the book. And she makes progress on those ideas, so that I went from unconvinced of the importance of what she writes about in the first third to wanting to phone my mother by the end.And what does she write about? Well, a) read the book and find out and b) I think it's radical feminism in the sense that it argues feminism can't be ignored or put on hold. It's everywhere and in everything. She makes structural arguments why this is the case, but she also makes biological arguments. The dirtiness and messiness of the maternal sticks to everything it touches. This book is an angry rebuke to the 1950s patriarchal dream of men who never have to deal with bodily filth or mess, apart from the regrettable necessity of a bowel motion every day or two (or three, given 50s diets in the UK and settler colonial countries). Life is full of excretion and mess and blood and general fluids that people without medical backgrounds can't correctly name. In some countries we might have successfully delegated dealing with all of this to women and people of colour, but I think Nelson is claiming that as a triumph for feminism - women deal with the stuff of life while men muck around with some nonsense or other.
Hmm, I might have gone too far down that track, but it's one of the threads of the book. I held back from giving the book five stars because I'm still not entirely convinced on how important this all is. It obviously matters, but then so does so much other stuff. Why should I concentrate on this? Well, in the case of this book, because it's beautiful and satisfying, but I'd love to read a similarly written book about economics or materials science.
PS: I read the ePub version of this and it kind of sucked because all of the references were put at the end, but they weren't superscripted or anything. In the end I had a pdf of the book on my phone and the actual book on my ereader, which still wasn't the ideal way to read it. So get the paper copy of possible.
PPS: It's astonishing to me that this book has 32,000 reviews. Whatever negative reactions people have to this book, to get 32,000 people responding to a work of theory is phenomenal.
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LibraryThing member bostonbibliophile
I'm not losing my shit over this or anything but it is a very well written, beautifully expressed book. I read it for a class in memoir that i hope to take, and to read a memoir because i'm into that right now and i have obviously very mixed feelings about the book. i enjoyed reading about her
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partner's transition a LOT more than I enjoyed reading about her childbirth experiences which is a subject I literally care nothing about. I don't love auto theory but I did enjoy her voice even when the subject was putting me to sleep. Show Less
LibraryThing member paroof
Beautifully written essays which are part autobiographical. Nelson explores family, love, birth, motherhood, gender, and more with honesty and intelligence while analyzing her thoughts on her favorite writers and philosophers.
LibraryThing member wagner.sarah35
For a short book, this one manages to contain a lot and covers more ground than plenty of longer works. The Argonauts is Maggie Nelson's memoir and her reflections on her relationship with a gender fluid partner, her pregnancy, and her family. Throughout the book, Nelson questions, criticizes, and
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engages with identity, sexuality, queer theory, and childrearing. Thoughtful and wide-ranging, I found this book to be eye-opening and I can't recommend it enough to those interested in the concepts explored in this slim volume. Show Less
Awards
National Book Critics Circle Award (Finalist — 2015)
Publishing Triangle Awards (Finalist — Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature — 2016)
Writers' Prize (Shortlist — 2017)
Publishers Weekly's Best Books of the Year (Nonfiction — 2015)
NPR: Books We Love (2015)
Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year (Nonfiction — 2015)
San Francisco Chronicle Best Book of the Year (Nonfiction — 2015)
The Observer Book of the Year (Biography and Memoir — 2015)
Village Voice Favorite Books (2015)
Globe and Mail Top 100 Book (2015)
ALA Over the Rainbow Book List (Selection — 2016)
Language
Original publication date
2015
Physical description
160 p.; 8.5 inches
ISBN
1555977073 / 9781555977078
Other editions
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson (Hardcover)
The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson (Hardcover)