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Book Review: After Sappho by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

 



Thank you to NetGalley and W. W. Norton & Company/Liveright for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: misogyny, violence, rape, sexual harassment, racism, domestic violence, abortion, homophobia.


Following various famous lesbians during the nineteenth century as they try to capture the essence of Sappho, the Greek poet who proudly professed her love for other women, After Sappho is a series of vignettes showing both the hardship and beauty in the lives of these women -- from Romaine Brooks, the painter known for her shades of gray, to Natalie Barney, an American writer who created a literary salon in Paris that became the center of the era's lesbian community. Struggling against the crushing boot of male oppression, these women nevertheless rose to great heights, and have a special place not only in the memory of women and lesbians, but the rest of the world, too. 

First and foremost, I want to applaud Schwartz's creativity. The imaginativeness of this novel is perhaps its strongest feature -- it wouldn't be quite right to say it's totally unique (as I believe Saidiya Hartman has a similar approach), but it certainly is something you don't encounter often. It's a fascinating interplay between reality and the imagination, and Schwartz's poetic, lyrical style of writing further adds to the dreamy sensation of reading it. Even in this day and age, where there is much more freedom in the exploration of gender and sexuality, many young lesbians will relate to the fervent desire of these women to explore a shared history, a connected past. It's not lost on me that while these women were reading tomes about Sappho, translating her poems from their original Greek, we are reading about them as they were doing it.

Many of the women included here are well-known, and have had much written about them. Virginia Woolf, for example, is featured heavily here, as is her lover, Vita Sackville-West, as is Natalie Barney, Romaine Brooks, Radclyffe Hall, Sarah Bernhardt, and many others. It would be remiss not to include them in some capacity, anyway -- they are responsible for influencing modern art and literature in so many ways, not to mention the lesbian community. There are a few others that I hadn't heard of previously, namely Sibilla Aleramo, one of the first openly feminist writers in Italy, as well as Lina Poletti, one of the first women to declare herself a lesbian in Italy. My only major complaint here is that, in some ways, I wish Schwartz had focused on lesser known lives. We have a wealth of information already on these women; wouldn't some of the ones we know less about have been particularly exciting to expand upon?

Josephine Baker and Ada "Bricktop" Smith are also briefly mentioned, but there's barely any time given to them at all. It made me question, speaking truthfully, why they were included at all. It felt as if they were namedropped, and that was it. I do understand, to some degree, why this is: Schwartz is focusing specifically on the set of women who are slightly interwoven with one another during this period, but still, what was the point of very briefly mentioning Ada and Josephine just to completely leave them out later?

As a whole, the book suffers from a sense of being somewhat disjointed. Because of the stylistic choice Schwartz makes, none of these women ever feel truly fleshed out, and the brevity of each section leaves you wishing that a bit more time had been spent on them. 

All in all, I don't think that this is a completely successful venture, but I do applaud Schwartz's creativity and ambition. I'll be interested to see what her next novel holds!

Book Review: Spear by Nicola Griffith

Sunday, January 1, 2023

 



Content Warning: violence, death, non-graphic mentions of sexual violence.


Growing up in the wild, Peretur lives in a cave with her mother. She knows that there's something special about herself and her lineage, but her mother is secretive, clearly fearful of revealing too much. When she comes to learn of the court at Caer Leon, its knights, and its king, Arturus, Peretur senses that her destiny lies there -- and that, perhaps, she will discover why she has visions of a faraway lake, which she feels is somehow connected. As she fights bandits with nothing but her broken hunting spear, trying to make a name for herself in order to one day join the knights of Caer Leon, Peretur discovers just who she is -- and what the future holds for her.

Although this book is only around 180 pages, it is so remarkable and packs such a punch that I'm still thinking about it days later. As soon as you read the first page, you're consumed by the beautiful world that Griffith paints with her sublime prose, and our heroine, Peretur, is immediately engaging. This is a retelling of Sir Percival and his search for the Holy Grail, but in a world populated by retellings of King Arthur's court, Griffith pulls off no small feat in making it feel like it's uniquely her own. 

It's hard to explain Peretur. She's tough, compassionate, complex, a kind, gentle stealer of women's hearts, a knight in the making. She's a little strange, too, in ways that make her instantly likable and relatable, and it's easy to see yourself in her as she struggles to fit in and find the place where she belongs. This story is primarily about homecoming, and what the word 'home' means. Sometimes home is not where you've grown up, not where you currently find yourself, but a place in the future, a group of people, a warm conversation with someone you love. In the author's note at the end, Griffith expands on this a little as she discusses Peretur's "Hero's Journey," and how for her, becoming a hero is not about finding power, but about finding out who she is and how she fits into the world.

There's not much focus on King Arthur or Guinevere, which, odd though it may sound, I actually liked. Not to say that they aren't an (obviously) important part of the story, but our focus remains squarely on Peretur, and she is never overshadowed by the more well-known figures from myth. Her dynamic with Nimue is warm and fascinating, and I liked her banter and complex relationships with the other Knights of the Round Table. It's a cliched phrase, but I truly mean it when I say that Griffith has managed to breathe fresh life into a story that has been circulating for centuries.

Peretur's relationship with her sexuality and gender is beautiful, and I love that, for the most part, it's totally uncomplicated. She is an unapologetic lesbian, and there is never any doubt in her as to her love for women, or how it impacts her life. I liked, too, that though she obviously identifies with being a woman, she finds herself in that place that many lesbians do: the ways she conforms to her gender, and the ways she does not, is complicated, individual to her, and beautifully explored in her knighthood. It's hard to do it justice just talking about it here -- I could never explain it in the myriad lovely ways that Griffith does -- but just trust me!

Highly recommended, especially to fans of Arthur's court who are looking for something a little different and new. 

 
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