Preview Now — Look Inside! May 25, Nonfiction Essays 8. From iconic feminist writer Gail Scott comes Permanent Revolution , a collection of new essays gathered alongside a recreation of her groundbreaking text, Spaces Like Stairs.
Gail Scott convincingly and beautifully evokes feminism as an ongoing experimental practice: courageous, expansive, and necessary to all. In this context, is the sentence a crypt? There was something irreversible, I understood, about what might come next. What will you give up? Who will you never see again? Irigaray, Cixous, Wittig to Marguerite Duras.
What seems at first the limits of articulation with proper listening becomes a beautiful threshold of social space. Radical and constantly curious, the intelligence at work in this collection of texts offers, as soon as one starts to read, an experience of resolute jouissance. Gail Scott Reads from Permanent Revolution! With Permanent Revolution , she creates a live text that does not strive towards closure or finality, but rather is experienced in its transience and becoming.
Scott envisions an active meaning, sentence, and subject-in-becoming that wrestles in continuous interplay with the wider ecology around it.
Your email address will not be published. Laws of Rest by David B. Light Light by Julie Joosten. Women just have a way to look deeply, critique and challenge, hug, massage, conciliate, and shrug. Whereas with men the relationships are deeply comfortable in a fleeting, provisional way. His head leans against a crazy piece of plaster-moulded flowers on the wall. Her camera heaves closer and closer into rooms and back out into the street. And even further. Who is the mysterious black photographer, a tourist, who is sometimes seen shooting the world of Heroine from above, standing seemingly on one of the hills or the hill that Montreal is named for.
Heroine leads me out of itself to think about other books that also managed in their way to deploy the real experience of living in a precise time, whether that was their intention or not. LeSueur meant to set the record right and what he accomplished Gail does in spades here.
If the fifties were a coterie time and the sixties were immersive and the seventies were a decade setting up networks but still kind of in shock that the totalizing previous thing the sixties had truly passed, what Heroine reveals about the eighties is so much cultural standing in the mirror and wondering if it was real or not, fitfully beginning just as it was beginning to end the obsession with decades.
Everybody, whether they were engaged in political action in the streets, or in bed, or at dinner with their friends was also standing in the mirror holding one another and trying not to do it wrong, whatever the present is. Because that present and this is the unique almost fibrous knowing Heroine is made of could see in a very non-techno way its own collective aura fleeing.
Which it is. Act British, she admonishes herself while being watched by her lover and his other lover a woman as she steps dripping out of the shower.
It was so matter of fact. Like she knows it. And the tub is cited in Heroine just as often as the novel. Thank God for the tub. Then steps out onto the front steps covered with green turf rug and a layer of snow. She is movement. In cafes and cars with friends and standing out in the street observing the many hookers who also come into the cafes.
Hookers are the chorus of this book. There are homeless people, too, a single gray woman who returns again and again, but the hookers, all of them, are her other. The hooker is radical. Her political other.
Exactly caught in the gate of capitalism, dancing, changing her clothes trying to be invisible, making a deal while being the most visible one of all, and somehow always they not she.
Has the nonbinary nature of sex work ever been explored. The notebook is here and open.
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