Status
Call number
Publication
Description
Biography & Autobiography. LGBTQIA+ (Nonfiction.) Nonfiction. 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 the history and reality of abuse in queer relationships. Machado's dire narrative is leavened with her characteristic wit, playfulness, and openness to inquiry. She casts a critical eye over legal proceedings, fairy tales, Star Trek, and Disney villains, as well as iconic works of film and fiction. The result is a wrenching, riveting book that explodes our ideas about what a memoir can do and be.… (more)
Media reviews
User reviews
Machado lacked context for her experience primarily because she was in a lesbian relationship. “Our culture does not have an investment in helping queer folks understand what their experiences mean.” Also, since both participants were women, it did not associate well with #MeToo notions of power in abusive relationships. The scarcity of a literature on homosexual abuse notwithstanding, Machado was eventually forced to conclude that her experience “was common, that everything that had happened to me — a crystalline, devastating landscape I navigated in my bare feet — was detailed in books and reports, in statistics”
Machado’s inventiveness and her fearless honesty distinguish this book from other memoirs. She tells her story in fragments; each short chapter views her experience through a different lens; the genres keep shifting; and the literary forms multiply, even including footnotes about folktales, ogres and fairy princesses. Machado’s honest treatment of her humiliation is undeniably disturbing and makes for an unsettling read. One is constantly left wondering why she keeps returning for more abuse. The answer seems clear: her partner is everything Machado thinks she is not. She is beautiful, wealthy, bright, witty and worldly. Also, she is manipulative and may, in fact, be psychotic. In this context, one can’t help but think of the joke: “Denial is more than just a river in Africa.” By cleverly switching to second person narration, Machado suckers her reader into becoming an unwilling accomplice. However, her failure to place her abuser’s psychological damage into some context is disturbing because it tends to leave one confused about assessing blame. This is not a balanced presentation of the facts of the case. Instead it is an indictment of one party by another.
Despite moving around a bit, the primary setting is a house in Bloomington, Indiana that Machado refers to as “the dream house.” This place is preeminent not only because it is in the title, and the place where much of the abuse occurs, but also because it seems to be an important metaphor for Machado’s understanding of the trauma. It’s a castle keep where the abusive princess resides, a circle where the cycle keeps turning, a trap, and a place where Machado compulsively returns.
In the Dream House gives us a series of short images and episodes from the relationship - from the first excitement of lust and love, through the loved one's increasingly unpredictable behaviour, to terrible scenes of rage and jealousy.
You will remember so little about the dinner except that, at the end of it, you want to prolong the evening and so you order tea of all things. You drink it—a mouthful of heat and herb, scorching the roof of your mouth—while trying not to stare at her, trying to be charming and nonchalant while desire gathers in your limbs. Your female crushes were always floating past you, out of reach, but she touches your arm and looks directly at you and you feel like a child buying something with her own money for the first time.
And later:
The next day, after you say good-bye to your friends, you sit in the car in the parking lot as she talks at you—your friends hate me, they’re jealous. An hour later you are still there, your head bent tearily against the window. The new bride walks by and notices you in your car. You see her slow down, her face crimped with puzzlement and concern. You shake your head ever so slightly, and she looks uncertain but mercifully she keeps walking so you can endure your punishment in peace. By the time you’ve wound out of the mountains and gotten back to a freeway, the bite of the fight has sweetened; whiskey unraveled by ice.
Some of the episodes are told in stylistically clever ways, which could have seemed gimmicky except that there is always a reason for it which takes you back to what Machado is saying, and which makes sense emotionally. A short chapter which is a 'lipogram' (without the letter 'e') makes a point about what it's like when there is something huge that you can't talk to anyone about. A chapter in the form of a 'choose your own adventure story' conveys the sense that no matter what Machado did, it wasn't right, and there was no way to break out of the cycle of fights and anger.
-Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House
This is a remarkable memoir, both as a piece of art and as a social commentary. It's construction is unique to any memoir I've ever read - each section is related to a different fairy tale, or work of folklore, or popular story - and while the narrative jumps in time and space, it culminates in such a way that the reader feels connected to the story in a deep and visceral way.
Carmen Maria Machado is quickly becoming one of my must-read authors. Her work is always complex and emotional, and more than a little otherworldly. I can't wait to see what she brings next.
TW: emotional abuse
Rather than going through events in a linear way like most memoirs, it breaks the story down into fragments and intersperses it with reflections on the larger context in which the
This is so beautifully written, and so original and thought-provoking. I am sure it will stay with me for a long time, and I will definitely read everything else Machado writes.
“The truth is, there is no better place to live than in the shadow of a beautiful, furious mountain.”
“You cried in
“When the historian of queer experience attempts to document a queer past, there is often a gatekeeper, representing a straight present.”
For many years, Carmen Maria Machado was locked into an abusive same-sex relationship. A nightmare, she had a hard time pulling herself out of. In her debut memoir Machado, describes this experience, in exquisite and painful detail. It can be a difficult read at times, but her writing is so bold and gorgeous, it guides the reader safely past the ugly passages. I loved her story collection, Her Body and Other Parties and with this one, she has proved to be a voice to be heard. I can't wait to see what she does next.
I just felt a need to put my biggest personal connections out there, the ones outside of the haunting things, the little gems in the wreckage that is this story of queer abuse, the times I
There is a reference to the most harrowing STTNG episode that flayed me like an amberjack. Already, this was such a deeply representative thing for me, but to see that someone else found it the same puzzle piece in their lives, the same stand in for these types of experiences...beyond comforting.
Then there is the examination of the nostalgia-cringe culture of being on livejournal in the early aughts as a teenager. Truly a formative era for me, and one that will never be repeated due to what the internet has evolved into. But to find another that was forged there, a great joy.
Both were not things I walked into this expecting, but things that floored me as I stumbled around in this story, nonetheless.
It seems that Machado has created a new sort of genre with this book that relates her experiences with with an abusive partner as they worked through a lesbian relationship. To cut to the chase, Machado has set up a most unusual format for this memoir in which she she is blindingly honest in her explanation of exactly how she managed to get through what was obviously a horrific experience for her. And she doesn't hide the fact that she could've, should've gotten out of the relationship several times but somehow couldn't do it. It made me feel that she was so real, so human, because I could picture myself doing something very much like that.
The writing is beautiful and I could hardly stop reading wondering how long she would put up with this woman who was making her life hell. The format, as I mentioned, is very unusual. She compared the Dream House, where they thought they would be so happy, to a number of tropes and headed each section of the book with that metaphor: Dream House as Confession, as Bildungsroman, as Noir, as Here Comes the Bride, as High Fantasy, as Doppleganger, as Demonic Pissession, as Unreliable Narrator and on and on. Absolutely brilliant. And somehow left me feeling unexpectedly hopeful and joyful. Very highly recommended
I find second person narrative hard. I think it worked in this book as it emphasized the narrator's shaky sense of self. The book does a really good job of showing how emotional abuse impacts the victim.
Also, the book has a fascinating ending.
This book was phenomenal, in its' structure, its' theme, and it's prose. In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado gave us a masterpiece of metaphor. It is unlike anything I have read before.
This house will haunt me forever but it also illuminated the need for action on behalf of victims. Machado writes about the "archival silence" in queer stories and about the erasure of queer lesbian domestic abuse.
She attempts to scream past the void & fill in the blanks for all who will dare to do more than observe what is happening. She uses the house to resurrect her experiences as a domestic violence survivor and takes you on a haunting journey recounting and attempting to find meaning in what happened to her. She dares you to look deeply and push past the gender ordinary that seeks to normalize and sympathize with the abuser's actions.
Reading this book was a visceral experience. It felt like I was peering into the house as a haunted, abusive tale played out. Each room added more horror and with each new experience my anxiety grew. My stomach was in knots. I wanted it to be over but I also couldn't stop looking in at the same time. I would shout warnings whenever I saw the red flags and I was on edge worrying about what worse event could come next. This house literally gives you a representation of the cycle of lesbian domestic abuse and how the red flags can easily be hidden within the walls. This novel dismantles the idea of safe houses and puts forth the narrative that houses are only safe for those that control them and hold the power. It also reminds us that looks can be deceiving.
Machado writes "The memoir is, at its core, an act of resurrection." This novel does just that. It attempts to bring life to the pieces of herself that she thought had long been dead. Read this book because someone out there needs you to see them
Once again, I stepped way outside of my comfort zone, and once again, I've been rewarded greatly for doing so. Carmen Maria Machado has delivered an important piece of work, part memoir, part queer resource, but mostly a terribly
I don't care what race you are, your religion, or your sexual preference...if you aren't moved by Machado's story, then you're either a rock...or you're part of the problem.
Everyone should read this. Those in abusive relationships should read it, to understand that it can get better. Those struggling with their sexuality should read it, to understand that it can get better. Those who don't understand, or in the words of Machado's aunt, don't "believe" in gays, should read it, because maybe they'd begin to understand that we're all just human underneath all those labels. Those that abuse should read it, with the hope that it may spark what little piece of humanity and empathy you may still harbour, and realize what a destructive thing you are doing.
This book. Just read it.
This could be a heavy book and a sad one, but Machado is so brilliant and her mind is so active and eager to seek out connections and ideas that I had to consciously slow down my reading. And Machado's story doesn't remain one characterized by uncertainty and turmoil.