Shelby Smoak

Bleeder was unlike any other memoir I have ever read, partly because of the simple fact of the topic: Shelby Smoak was born a severe hemophiliac who, as a child, contracted HIV through a blood transfusion in the early days of the AIDS epidemic.

The book begins with Smoak turning 18 and learning of his status (his parents were informed years beforehand, and let him choose whether or not he wanted to know as a child), and chronicles his college and young adult years. Bleeder is lovely, fascinating, depressing, informative, sad, strange, and different. It is painful to read about Smoak's suffering, all the while knowing that not only will he never recover from the hemophilia, the condition also weakens and damages his body over the years; in addition, he has a fatal disease that is more dangerous to weakened, damaged bodies. Although he can get better in the sense that HIV treatments are always improving, he can never be cured of either ailment. We are all dying, but Smoak is doing so in a faster, more painful, more direct way than most of us.

The reader is also offered a glimpse into the intimate dating and sex life of an HIV positive person. I think this is something we have all wondered about, although of course the way to handle such things is as individual as the people who are HIV positive. Smoak begins a sexual relationship, including intercourse, with his first girlfriend before he discloses his status to her. Although he ALWAYS uses a condom, we all know they are hardly infallible, and can break at any time. His intention is obviously to protect his partner -- he freaks out when she gets near a small bleeding cut on his face at one point -- but he's really being quite irresponsible by fucking her, condoms or not, and she doesn't even know what she's risking exposure to. I found this troublesome. He does eventually tell her about his health problems, and apparently she is fine with their sex life, simply asking him to confirm it is safe, which he does (I don't know if I agree with that assessment). She is far more concerned about him. What a saint. The sexual relationship he has with his next partner seems more realistic to me. He discloses to her before anything serious happens, and it turns out she's not interested in a traditional sexual relationship anyway. They stick with mutual masturbation and manual stimulation, and stay happy together for about a year.

Moving beyond content to style, Smoak has a poetic voice and many passages of the book are seamless and beautiful. However, his prose is a bit inconsistent. Also, I feel as though if there is a writing equivalent to overacting, Smoak demonstrates it: he's an overwriter. Haha. I guess that's really just a complicated way of saying he tends toward the dramatic.

Ultimately, when I consider Smoak and his memoir, I find him incredibly brave. Brave to have lived it and brave to have shared it; overall, brave to keep going.… (mais)

Bleeder was unlike any other memoir I have ever read, partly because of the simple fact of the topic: Shelby Smoak was born a severe hemophiliac who, as a child, contracted HIV through a blood transfusion in the early days of the AIDS epidemic.

The book begins with Smoak turning 18 and learning of his status (his parents were informed years beforehand, and let him choose whether or not he wanted to know as a child), and chronicles his college and young adult years. Bleeder is lovely, fascinating, depressing, informative, sad, strange, and different. It is painful to read about Smoak's suffering, all the while knowing that not only will he never recover from the hemophilia, the condition also weakens and damages his body over the years; in addition, he has a fatal disease that is more dangerous to weakened, damaged bodies. Although he can get better in the sense that HIV treatments are always improving, he can never be cured of either ailment. We are all dying, but Smoak is doing so in a faster, more painful, more direct way than most of us.

The reader is also offered a glimpse into the intimate dating and sex life of an HIV positive person. I think this is something we have all wondered about, although of course the way to handle such things is as individual as the people who are HIV positive. Smoak begins a sexual relationship, including intercourse, with his first girlfriend before he discloses his status to her. Although he ALWAYS uses a condom, we all know they are hardly infallible, and can break at any time. His intention is obviously to protect his partner -- he freaks out when she gets near a small bleeding cut on his face at one point -- but he's really being quite irresponsible by fucking her, condoms or not, and she doesn't even know what she's risking exposure to. I found this troublesome. He does eventually tell her about his health problems, and apparently she is fine with their sex life, simply asking him to confirm it is safe, which he does (I don't know if I agree with that assessment). She is far more concerned about him. What a saint. The sexual relationship he has with his next partner seems more realistic to me. He discloses to her before anything serious happens, and it turns out she's not interested in a traditional sexual relationship anyway. They stick with mutual masturbation and manual stimulation, and stay happy together for about a year.

Moving beyond content to style, Smoak has a poetic voice and many passages of the book are seamless and beautiful. However, his prose is a bit inconsistent. Also, I feel as though if there is a writing equivalent to overacting, Smoak demonstrates it: he's an overwriter. Haha. I guess that's really just a complicated way of saying he tends toward the dramatic.

Ultimately, when I consider Smoak and his memoir, I find him incredibly brave. Brave to have lived it and brave to have shared it; overall, brave to keep going.… (mais)

Bleeder was unlike any other memoir I have ever read, partly because of the simple fact of the topic: Shelby Smoak was born a severe hemophiliac who, as a child, contracted HIV through a blood transfusion in the early days of the AIDS epidemic.

The book begins with Smoak turning 18 and learning of his status (his parents were informed years beforehand, and let him choose whether or not he wanted to know as a child), and chronicles his college and young adult years. Bleeder is lovely, fascinating, depressing, informative, sad, strange, and different. It is painful to read about Smoak's suffering, all the while knowing that not only will he never recover from the hemophilia, the condition also weakens and damages his body over the years; in addition, he has a fatal disease that is more dangerous to weakened, damaged bodies. Although he can get better in the sense that HIV treatments are always improving, he can never be cured of either ailment. We are all dying, but Smoak is doing so in a faster, more painful, more direct way than most of us.

The reader is also offered a glimpse into the intimate dating and sex life of an HIV positive person. I think this is something we have all wondered about, although of course the way to handle such things is as individual as the people who are HIV positive. Smoak begins a sexual relationship, including intercourse, with his first girlfriend before he discloses his status to her. Although he ALWAYS uses a condom, we all know they are hardly infallible, and can break at any time. His intention is obviously to protect his partner -- he freaks out when she gets near a small bleeding cut on his face at one point -- but he's really being quite irresponsible by fucking her, condoms or not, and she doesn't even know what she's risking exposure to. I found this troublesome. He does eventually tell her about his health problems, and apparently she is fine with their sex life, simply asking him to confirm it is safe, which he does (I don't know if I agree with that assessment). She is far more concerned about him. What a saint. The sexual relationship he has with his next partner seems more realistic to me. He discloses to her before anything serious happens, and it turns out she's not interested in a traditional sexual relationship anyway. They stick with mutual masturbation and manual stimulation, and stay happy together for about a year.

Moving beyond content to style, Smoak has a poetic voice and many passages of the book are seamless and beautiful. However, his prose is a bit inconsistent. Also, I feel as though if there is a writing equivalent to overacting, Smoak demonstrates it: he's an overwriter. Haha. I guess that's really just a complicated way of saying he tends toward the dramatic.

Ultimately, when I consider Smoak and his memoir, I find him incredibly brave. Brave to have lived it and brave to have shared it; overall, brave to keep going.… (mais)