BOOKS: Gender Queer: A Memoir

Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe was the most banned book of the 2021-2022 school year (per PEN America), which seemed to me a great reason to buy it and read it. All the more so because it is a great window into the experience of a non-binary person, something I’ve been eager to learn more about as we have more and more gender-nonconforming people in our lives. Kobabe (who uses the pronouns e/em/eir) is a talented graphic artist, and the book is a graphic memoir, presented in comic book style, so I couldn’t do this one on audio, I had to buy the physical book and read it the old-fashioned way. I found the graphic aspect quite an effective communication style, telling the story through illustrations, captions, dialog, and thought bubbles. Eir story was so interesting as e really struggled to figure out eir identity. (Yes, I had to type that sentence haltingly. This pronoun thing doesn’t come easily to anyone, including the author, who talks about struggling with it and messing up emself. But e also eloquently describes how e felt when eir pronouns weren’t respected, and how much it meant to em when they were.) E tried to find eir place as lesbian, trans, asexual, but nothing was quite right. I appreciate how eir experience was so different to mine, as a cisgender gay man. I started with similar feelings of alienation and not understanding where I fit in the world, but then I had a clear epiphany – I’m not this, I’m that! Kobabe knew e wasn’t “this”, but really struggled to figure out eir “that”. The book is a candid and direct depiction of eir experiences and feelings, told in a simple and accessible way that would be perfectly appropriate for a teenage reader (and incredibly valuable for one who was experiencing similar struggles). Eir story is much more emotional and social than physical, but does include some candid scenes of eir first menstruation, eir first pap smear, and eir first tentative sexual encounter, which is what the book banners will point to. I didn’t find those few parts to be the least bit prurient, erotic, or in any way inappropriate for a teenager. An 8th grader wouldn’t find anything here about sex or anatomy that they hadn’t already seen in health class, but they might learn much about empathy for the variety of human experience.

FILM: Of An Age

Of An Age is the second feature film from Macedonian-Australian writer-director Goran Stolevski, and won some acclaim at film festivals in Australia. It depicts a fleeting romantic encounter that leaves indelible marks on the two lives even 11 years later. I found it very reminiscent of Richard Linklater’s classic Before Sunset, not only in concept, but in its minimalist, live-stream feel. I’m sure that Stolevski must have seen the Before trilogy and thought to himself, I’ve got to make a gay version of that for a young Macedonian immigrant in Melbourne. The romance is a tantalizingly smoldering build, propelled by the strength of the actors’ performances and their chemistry. Will we see a sequel ten years later?

FILM: Close

The Belgian film Close is a vivid, tender, heartbreaking coming-of-age story of two best boyhood friends whose friendship is tested by the social crucible of starting middle school. It won the Grand Prix at Cannes, and is a contender for Best International Feature Film at the 2023 Oscars. While the coming-of-age genre is well-explored for adolescents and sexual awakening, there are far fewer “coming-of-a-younger-age” films that are presexual and innocent. My friend Alan compared it to Stand By Me, a similar story of childhood friendship at that age, young enough to be innocent, but powerful enough to mark you for life. (Perhaps we have to go back to 1986 to find something so comparable.) And he noted the likeness between Eden Dambrine, the young star of Close, and the young River Phoenix, in their captivating performances. The film is very cinematic, in that much of the story is shown rather than told, and Eden Dambrine’s talent to convey emotion wordlessly is breathtaking. So much just plays across his face as he is attending a concert, or running through a field, or lying in bed. It’s haunting. (Think of Timothée Chalamet looking into the fire at the end of Call Me By Your Name.) The underlying emotions are enhanced by the visually lush film. Scenes of harvesting flowers (the family business of one of the boys) harken paintings of Dutch masters but with impressionist colors.