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Patricia Lockwood

Autor(a) de No One Is Talking About This

6+ Works 2,460 Membros 125 Críticas 2 Favorited

About the Author

Patricia Lockwood was born in Fort Wayne. Indiana, and raised in all the worst cities of the Midwest. She is the author of two poetry collections. Balloon Pop Outlaw Black and Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals, a New York Times Notable Book. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times. The mostrar mais New Yorker, The New Republic, Slate, and The London Review of Books. She lives in Savannah, Georgia. mostrar menos

Includes the name: Patricia Lockwood

Obras por Patricia Lockwood

No One Is Talking About This (2021) 1,130 exemplares
Priestdaddy: A Memoir (2017) 992 exemplares
Balloon Pop Outlaw Black (2012) 68 exemplares
The Winged Thing 1 exemplar

Associated Works

The Best American Poetry 2015 (2015) — Contribuidor — 97 exemplares
The Best American Poetry 2014 (2014) — Contribuidor — 81 exemplares
Joan Didion: The Last Interview and Other Conversations (2022) — Introdução, algumas edições24 exemplares
No Love Lost: The Selected Novellas of Rachel Ingalls (2023) — Introdução — 13 exemplares


Conhecimento Comum




The thing is this: this is not a book about Patricia Lockwood's father, who is a Catholic priest. This is a book where Lockwood sets out to write a book about her father and ends up primarily writing about herself and her family and the way they are haunted by her father (who is very much alive) and the Catholic Church in general. He remains opaque, unclear, frequently ridiculous, Rush-Limbaugh-misogynistic, and deeply devoted to the practice of ministry, all at once. Toward the end of the book she turns to him and asks, explicitly, for him to reveal himself to her. But she only does so in the pages of this book she's written around herself/out of herself/between them. She doesn't, and maybe can't, face-to-face. I don't fault her for that, or the book. It remains an extraordinary book, especially when looking at the effects of the deeply patriarchal structures she (and women in general) grow up in, are shaped by, sometimes wriggle out of and can't entirely escape. I came to Lockwood via her poem "Rape Joke," which made me feel so entirely seen that lines from it echoed though my head for months after, at a time in my life when I desperately needed that poem, exactly. Reading more of her writing on gender, on trauma, on dealing with that poem going viral while living in her parents' home was incredible. It also does have a chapter tiled the "Cum Queens of Hyatt Place." It is hilarious and brilliant and made me weep and made me think. I can't ask for more than that.… (mais)
localgayangel | 55 outras críticas | Mar 5, 2024 |
This is a messy book. The first half is written in snippets, vignettes referring to random online phenomena, viral tweets and memes in a sort of stream of consciousness kinda way. It's about people who live online and that is most of their reality.

This part was seriously boring, even though the author can clearly write well, and there is an occasional great paragraph. I just know too many women who write similar things in a similar manner and are much better at connecting emotionally to the reader, so this left me cold.

The second part focuses on the "real life" events that are in complete contrast with the beginning of this book. It deals with some heavy topics, politics, law, grief... It was a lot more interesting and better written, but it never took off. The chopped-up structure didn't help.
As a result, although I really felt some parts, I couldn't really connect to this as a whole.

I wish I loved this more. I wish the second half started sooner in this book and that I could get into the mind of the narrator more.

But, as it is, it was very underwhelming.
… (mais)
ZeljanaMaricFerli | 58 outras críticas | Mar 4, 2024 |
It's easier for me to respect than love a novel written in the fragmentary style, to say "Yes, I see what you did there, well done, it's not really for me, though". No One Is Talking About This at least has a formal reason for being written this way, even arguably a necessary one, being about the experience of being extremely online, but even more specifically being extremely online on Twitter, or "the portal" as Lockwood's narrator calls it, and this is how the portal writes. It is also however about the experience of having the ultimately inescapable reality of human bodies and sickness suddenly jerk you out of your previous life, even when that life is the disembodied mind inside the portal, and seeing that life continue on in its great stream while you are busy with something else, and when you lift your head and look over at it, you realize that you are now an outsider viewing it through a film of difference and alienation rather than an integrated participant.

Why be a part of the portal in the first place? Why, when what goes on in it, your contributions in it, fly by and are gone in nearly a blink. "Already it was becoming impossible to explain things she had done even the year before, why she had spent hypnotized hours of her life, say, photoshopping bags of frozen peas into pictures of historical atrocities, posting OH YES HUNNY in response to old images of Stalin, why whenever she liked anything especially, she said she was going to 'chug it with her ass.' Already it was impossible to explain these things."

Personally I have no idea why people on Twitter photoshopped bags of frozen peas into pictures of historical atrocities or posted OH YES HUNNY to pictures of Stalin, but if even core participants have trouble explaining why they did it a short time later, it can't be very important, really. And so I think it's not important if readers of this novel know the memes Lockwood is referencing or not. It might be a fun sort of parlor game, but that's all.

The important thing to know is why the character is immersing herself into the portal, and what it is doing to her, rather than the frankly irrelevant details of what flies by in the portal. She says, "it was a place where she would always choose the right side, where the failure was in history and not herself, where she did not read the wrong writers, was not seized with surges of enthusiasm for the wrong leaders, did not eat the wrong animals... she knew how it all turned out... she floated as the head at the top of it and saw everything, everything, backward, backward, and turned away in fright from her own bright day."

So we get a hint that the portal offers self-esteem and a sense of belonging to a favored tribe, psychological benefits that humans seem designed to chase. It offers certainty and a way to avoid the scary unknown. It also becomes a self-erasing addiction. "You have a totally dead look on your face," her husband tells her as she's doing something or other in the portal. She thinks, "Gradually it had become the place where we sounded like each other, through some erosion of wind or water on a self not nearly as firm as stone." And it takes on a darker cast over time. People - Russians, capitalists, our own ambitious political leaders - exploit it to manipulate us. There's a lust to find transgressors and righteously hound and shun them: "Callout culture! Were things rapidly approaching the point where even you would be seen as bad?"

"Something has gone wrong," her mother texts her. But she's not referencing the portal. The character's sister has had a terrible revelation about her pregnancy. A rare and fatal genetic abnormality in the baby has been discovered. Her sister's life is in danger. She is suddenly and without warning jerked out of her previous life, undone by the reality of these fragile bodies we inhabit outside of the portal. Lockwood writes,

She fell heavily out of the broad warm us, out of the story that had seemed, up till the very last minute, to require her perpetual co-writing. Oh, she thought hazily, falling rain-wise like Alice, finding tucked under her arm the bag of peas she once photoshopped into pictures of historical atrocities, oh, have I been wasting my time?

She finds that being surrounded by and participating in her family's pain rather than living so greatly inside the portal reintroduces her to herself: "the previous unshakable conviction that someone else was writing the inside of her head was gone." As ever, illness and death have a great way of shifting one's perception of the world, one does not have to be extremely online to experience this fact of life, it's just one more way of being that has to bow before something greater. New, but ultimately not different in this respect, anyone can identify with this passage where the character looks at her previous life, before the Great Encounter:

Through the membrane of a white hospital wall she could feel the thump of the life that went on without her, the hugeness of the arguments about whether you could say the word retard on a podcast. She laid her hand against the white wall and the heart beat, strong and striding, even healthy. But she was no longer in that body.

So the novel takes a turn towards the universal as Life asserts itself over life. It's not sentimental, Lockwood is far too strong of a writer to get trapped in clichés and sentiment only, rather we see the characters doing the best they can to live out love with each other and in the baby's short life among the difficulties and realities that lie in wait. The character wonders if this experience will change her, fill her with more love and kindness towards her fellow humans. On an airplane, she feels the world calling her back, and the rainbow that follows the plane's path just might offer an answer.

Love to you, whether you find yourself in the portal or elsewhere.
… (mais)
lelandleslie | 58 outras críticas | Feb 24, 2024 |
I jibe with Patricia Lockwood really well and love her writing. Part of that is she writes the most incisive and poetic sentences and scenes; the passage from [b:No One Is Talking About This|53733106|No One Is Talking About This|Patricia Lockwood|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1601474686l/53733106._SY75_.jpg|84057345] when the doctor chokes up after her niece's death, with cream cheese from a bagel stuck in his mustache, for instance, is perfectly amazing. Priestdaddy is said to be funnier, but humor isn't what sticks out to me. It's writing like this:

"All my life I have overheard, all my life I have listened to what people will let slip when they think you are part of their we. A we is so powerful. It is the most corrupt and formidable institution on earth. Its hands are full of the crispest and most persuasive currency. Its mouth is full of received, repeating language. The we closes its ranks to protect the space inside it, where the air is different. It does not protect people. It protects its own shape."

Does that not just nail tribalist in-group dynamics...
… (mais)
lelandleslie | 55 outras críticas | Feb 24, 2024 |



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