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X
A thrilling portrait of political terror and the violent pleasures found in warehouses, bathrooms, and dungeons across New York City, X is a novel that delves into the psyches of characters on the margins
The world is ending, and down-and-out sadist Lee spends their days working for a big corporation and their nights wandering the streets of Brooklyn listening to true crime podcasts. But everything changes when Lee is dragged to a warehouse party by their best friend, where they find themself in the clutches of the seductive and bloodthirsty X. When Lee seeks her out again, she's nowhere to be found.
Amid the steady constriction of civil rights and the purging of migrants and refugees, the US government has recently begun encouraging the semi-voluntary "exporting" of undesirable citizens--the radicalized, the dissident, and the ungovernable. Word has it that X may be among those leaving. If Lee doesn't track her down soon, she may be gone forever.
The world is ending, and down-and-out sadist Lee spends their days working for a big corporation and their nights wandering the streets of Brooklyn listening to true crime podcasts. But everything changes when Lee is dragged to a warehouse party by their best friend, where they find themself in the clutches of the seductive and bloodthirsty X. When Lee seeks her out again, she's nowhere to be found.
Amid the steady constriction of civil rights and the purging of migrants and refugees, the US government has recently begun encouraging the semi-voluntary "exporting" of undesirable citizens--the radicalized, the dissident, and the ungovernable. Word has it that X may be among those leaving. If Lee doesn't track her down soon, she may be gone forever.
7 pages, MP3 CD
First published June 28, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 207 reviews
December 4, 2022
[2.5 stars] A dystopian near-future noir that follows a trans and queer sadist as they search for a mysterious domme before her imminent "voluntary" deportation. I was excited for X after radio and friend reviews raved about its plot and characters, but in the end, I don't think it was for me. Billed as a deep dive into pain, pleasure, and 24/7 D/s dynamics, I had hoped the exploration of Lee's psychology wouldn't be as boring and the "search" for X would be faster paced and less dominated by Lee's projections. It's also possible that because I'm the type of sadomasochist that thrives on others' enjoyment, I was probably always going to feel disconnected from Lee's nonconsensual and self-centered approach to causing pain, and that's fine too. Mostly though, even in Lee's intentional unlikeability, I don't think there's anything transgressive or subversive about treating friends, acquaintances, and sex partners like shit outside of agreed-upon scenes as a response to intense government repression. It might be the survival or coping mechanisms one might have, but instead of being unconventional it's actually the most common way that fascism seeps into our very beings. And rather than being a cautionary tale, I found X to romanticize that passive nihilism and complete lack of empathy too much for my personal enjoyment. Potentially recommended if you enjoyed Catcher in the Rye, and would love to reimagine Holden Caulfield as a white nonbinary queer of the Brooklyn trans and dyke scene.
Goodreads Challenge 2022: 49/52
Popsugar Reading Challenge: palindromic title
Goodreads Challenge 2022: 49/52
Popsugar Reading Challenge: palindromic title
April 28, 2022
Well, I suppose score one for diverse reading. Doesn’t get much more diverse than this…this deliberately subversive sexual odyssey of a Brooklyn-based sadist. Or maybe a sadomasochist, after all, after an encounter with a mysterious X who throws this top to the bottom and makes them love it.
And then X leaves and the protagonist spends their entire time looking for her. Or them. It’s difficult to tell, but just about everyone in this book is queer, fetishist and them, so that’s probably the safest pronoun to use.
Tons of sex, tons of kink. Curious enough, like gawking at a weird museum, but unless you’re specifically into some of this or have interest in it, the contents might not be for everyone.
Reasonably compelling which is odd for a book about generally unlikeable, unpleasant and unsympathetic character, but ultimately not quite enough to justify reading.
A strange trip into a world that reads as foreign as the rings of Saturn, but then again there’s a very interesting political commentary going on in the backdrop where the powers that be are going wild with deportations, expelling significant percentages of population back to what they perceive to be their countries of origin. A sort of nightmarish dystopia of a xenophobic utopia. Very eerie.
To each their own; and to a specific audience – this book. Thanks Netgalley.
And then X leaves and the protagonist spends their entire time looking for her. Or them. It’s difficult to tell, but just about everyone in this book is queer, fetishist and them, so that’s probably the safest pronoun to use.
Tons of sex, tons of kink. Curious enough, like gawking at a weird museum, but unless you’re specifically into some of this or have interest in it, the contents might not be for everyone.
Reasonably compelling which is odd for a book about generally unlikeable, unpleasant and unsympathetic character, but ultimately not quite enough to justify reading.
A strange trip into a world that reads as foreign as the rings of Saturn, but then again there’s a very interesting political commentary going on in the backdrop where the powers that be are going wild with deportations, expelling significant percentages of population back to what they perceive to be their countries of origin. A sort of nightmarish dystopia of a xenophobic utopia. Very eerie.
To each their own; and to a specific audience – this book. Thanks Netgalley.
January 29, 2022
I loved this moody, ominous novel--it continues to linger with me weeks after finishing it. The protagonist's world wasn't a comfortable place to be, both for the novel's socio-political and interpersonal layers, and yet I realized that I was putting off reading the last few pages for three nights in a row because I wasn't quite ready to leave Lee's milieu. I was excited by the ways in which the characters are not being presented for likability and to charm the reader and the ways in which the novel skates sharp edges of taboo. The author's ability to balance what is said on the page with negative space and indeterminability added to the way Lee's voice continues to haunt my imagination. I'm a fairly recent reader of Davis' thoughtful, sexy, compelling newsletter--I always look forward to a new iteration land in my inbox--and it is exciting to see their sharp intellect at work in fiction.
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February 6, 2022A sadist longs for true crimes: physically sexual, violently emotional in a world where other people are being deported. Filled with clever and thoughtful turns of phrase, and drawing on traditions of noir, camp, memoir and erotic thrillers. Davis depicts the trans/nonbinary/queer subculture of Brooklyn as an all consuming underground network of friends, playmates, lovers and clients, with occasional forays into office jobs, self-absorbed on the edges of a larger society of official cruelty. They unflinchingly draw taut the tightrope between ego aggression and political passivity that so many live on.
March 18, 2023
3.5 rounded up
July 24, 2022
dyke dennis cooper. one of the best books ive read in so long. such a terrific exploration of the psychology of topping, of wanting to inflict something on someone else, and of what happens when the top gets topped. i love this sort of trans literature so bad. makes me feel motivated to write. naur like im so obsessed with this book. and the sex was so hot. i never thought of myself as a pain slut but…!!
September 2, 2022
mildly hyped gay books not landing for me lately but this one is OK. v reminiscent of sarah schulman's after delores — dyke picaresque w hard-boiled affectations. not sure what the near-future dystopia setting does except check a queer-fiction cliche off the list & the narration has a couple of really obnoxious tics (the movie references ... lol). but it's occasionally hot & um ... not actively embarrassing most of the time? gay writers HAVE to start getting critiqued for real, they’re completely slacking out there
June 10, 2022
v stressful, v sexy, v good
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October 3, 2022There are some books you have to write essays about. This is one of them.
I had basically every single reaction it's possible to have while reading this book. Depending on what chapter I was on I either loved it, hated it, thought it was brilliant, thought it was morally evil, thought it was a work of radical leftist fiction, thought it was deeply reactionary.
Where I ended on it, is that I do think it's -- in it's own fucked up way -- somewhat profound. And it was a moment on literally one of the last few pages that made the whole work click for me. Because I realized that, at least for me, this is in dialogue with Nabokov and Lee -- our narrator -- is somewhat in conversation with Humbert Humbert. This made the whole book click and made Davis' (who is undeniably an incredibly talented writer) intent much clearer.
To me, this book is about the impact of politics on our psyche. It's about how living under a regime which demonizes and terrorizes you fucks you up and fucks up the way you engage with other people. It's about the danger of identity, how it can liberate us but it can also pigeonhole and constrain us. It's about normalization and living in a world where the horrific is presented as normal, healthy, and mundane. It's about the lengths we go to to find human connection.
I read an interview with Davis where they talked about someone internalizing the identity of sadist and applying it to interpersonal situations which are less rigid. When your life becomes a BDSM scene, if you will. That helped underline my read of Lee and thus the book. Relatedly, I do think X is, at least in my reading, slightly polemical with NYC queer culture. I don't think this is a problem but I do think it's interesting. It is both one of the most accurately observed looks at queer nightlife/hookup culture/general social interactions but also has very, very little love for any of it. It seems to present a vision of queerness that adapts to oppression without fighting it. A future where we all get exported without resistance. Instead, we smoke, snort, fuck, and gossip all the way to the gallows. This is... harsh but I'd be a goddamn liar if I said I didn't feel this way much of the time. As our rights are under attack, we choose to party instead of fight? In this reading, I do think X ends up being a pretty politically sharp and harsh novel, even if it is entirely hopeless.
I'm never going to read this again. But I do think, in its own strange little way, it's a very important and impactful piece of queer writing about our current socio-political moment.
I had basically every single reaction it's possible to have while reading this book. Depending on what chapter I was on I either loved it, hated it, thought it was brilliant, thought it was morally evil, thought it was a work of radical leftist fiction, thought it was deeply reactionary.
Where I ended on it, is that I do think it's -- in it's own fucked up way -- somewhat profound. And it was a moment on literally one of the last few pages that made the whole work click for me. Because I realized that, at least for me, this is in dialogue with Nabokov and Lee -- our narrator -- is somewhat in conversation with Humbert Humbert. This made the whole book click and made Davis' (who is undeniably an incredibly talented writer) intent much clearer.
To me, this book is about the impact of politics on our psyche. It's about how living under a regime which demonizes and terrorizes you fucks you up and fucks up the way you engage with other people. It's about the danger of identity, how it can liberate us but it can also pigeonhole and constrain us. It's about normalization and living in a world where the horrific is presented as normal, healthy, and mundane. It's about the lengths we go to to find human connection.
I read an interview with Davis where they talked about someone internalizing the identity of sadist and applying it to interpersonal situations which are less rigid. When your life becomes a BDSM scene, if you will. That helped underline my read of Lee and thus the book. Relatedly, I do think X is, at least in my reading, slightly polemical with NYC queer culture. I don't think this is a problem but I do think it's interesting. It is both one of the most accurately observed looks at queer nightlife/hookup culture/general social interactions but also has very, very little love for any of it. It seems to present a vision of queerness that adapts to oppression without fighting it. A future where we all get exported without resistance. Instead, we smoke, snort, fuck, and gossip all the way to the gallows. This is... harsh but I'd be a goddamn liar if I said I didn't feel this way much of the time. As our rights are under attack, we choose to party instead of fight? In this reading, I do think X ends up being a pretty politically sharp and harsh novel, even if it is entirely hopeless.
I'm never going to read this again. But I do think, in its own strange little way, it's a very important and impactful piece of queer writing about our current socio-political moment.
July 5, 2023
A biting (flogging, kicking, cutting, etc.) mashup of dystopia (cistopia?), satire, and experimental documentary, that manages to draw the best out of speculative AND crime AND really classic, deeply erotic working-class queer fiction. What a relief to see characters make messes and monsters of themselves and, rather than be redeemed as righteous and good, sneak into my sympathies when I least expect it.
Davis is authoritative in their ambiguity and confident in their craft, which results in a kind of transsexual, transgenre, transnarrative pastiche of different times/locations/relationships that bleed into one another. They make use of dystopian conventions in order to refuse the notion of the future (and futurity itself, true to queer form!) –– the things that are not happening now, are happening now –– today is yesterday and tomorrow, we are rioting in bars and reading on the train and exporting all at once, all the time, interspersed with some of the most graphic and taboo scenes I've seen outside Literotica (you have been warned).
This novel, while delicately and intentionally organized, is violently chaotic and often frustratingly opaque, perfect for someone like me to dig their teeth into. I'm sad it's already over, but like, *is it*?
Davis is authoritative in their ambiguity and confident in their craft, which results in a kind of transsexual, transgenre, transnarrative pastiche of different times/locations/relationships that bleed into one another. They make use of dystopian conventions in order to refuse the notion of the future (and futurity itself, true to queer form!) –– the things that are not happening now, are happening now –– today is yesterday and tomorrow, we are rioting in bars and reading on the train and exporting all at once, all the time, interspersed with some of the most graphic and taboo scenes I've seen outside Literotica (you have been warned).
This novel, while delicately and intentionally organized, is violently chaotic and often frustratingly opaque, perfect for someone like me to dig their teeth into. I'm sad it's already over, but like, *is it*?
July 12, 2022
Two pages into this, I sent my sister a text: “Heaven help me, what have I gotten myself into with this book?” I think that’s just about the only normal reaction when there are mentions of Abu Ghraib and waterboarding while in a sex dungeon — a Lynndie England fetish. The main character is game for this type of play because “How bad could a waterboarding really be if you get up and walk away afterward?” They’re not strangled with an American flag, like they thought they might be, and they enjoy the feeling of pushing against their restraints and of the water burning behind their eyes. According to the character whose fetish this is, “it’s not political, just sexy.”
The main character, Lee, is a sadist searching for X, a woman they met at a punk collective and had a sadomasochistic one-night stand with. (This is new for Lee, because they’re usually the one inflicting the pain.) X is about to be “exported” by the fascist U.S. government in this not-too-unrealistic (but heightened) political climate and surveillance state that’s trying to remove undesirables from the country. Lee is on the heels of a break-up with Petra, a masochist, and is processing this loss and what they expect to be their own looming exportation as they walk around late at night in a crime-laden city while listening to a true crime podcast — and Lee feels like the dangerous one. As they note, “In a world of certain death, what could I possibly have to fear?”
Lee is a fascinating and enjoyable narrator, because their dark urges are set off by their dark humor, and that makes this an oddly fun read. They’ve recently been banned from the monthly play party, “again, for the same stupid reason (drinking blood),” and are approaching the looming “doomsday clock” with that same wry spirit. They fantasize about killing someone, or about being killed. They wonder if someone “has a nice scream” and says “if a girl faked an orgasm with me, that would be one thing; if she faked a scream, it might break my heart.” Lee knew they were in love with Petra “the moment I started to plan how I’d style her for her funeral viewing. I know that wanting to see your lover dead and beautiful isn’t normal, but it’s always felt normal to me.” It’s a lot — but in the best kind of way.
Davis’ writing is almost brusque, and they do a wonderful job of getting the reader caught up in the throes of this search for X. There are no chapters and are just occasional breaks, so the book has this frenetic energy and sense of disorientation, because you never exactly know where you are in the timeline of Lee’s story. The book vacillates between past (their relationship with their mom, their budding sadist tendencies, past relationships) and the present-ish search for X (jumping between the people who can help Lee find her and the incident with her) in a way that’s mostly well done but was occasionally too confusing. Davis just kind of thrusts you into this weird world and leaves you to make sense of it yourself.
When my sister asked me what this book was about, I didn’t know exactly how to explain. But I did tell her that I liked it a lot, and I warned her that, if she reads it, to prepare to have some really, really, really weird dreams.
The main character, Lee, is a sadist searching for X, a woman they met at a punk collective and had a sadomasochistic one-night stand with. (This is new for Lee, because they’re usually the one inflicting the pain.) X is about to be “exported” by the fascist U.S. government in this not-too-unrealistic (but heightened) political climate and surveillance state that’s trying to remove undesirables from the country. Lee is on the heels of a break-up with Petra, a masochist, and is processing this loss and what they expect to be their own looming exportation as they walk around late at night in a crime-laden city while listening to a true crime podcast — and Lee feels like the dangerous one. As they note, “In a world of certain death, what could I possibly have to fear?”
Lee is a fascinating and enjoyable narrator, because their dark urges are set off by their dark humor, and that makes this an oddly fun read. They’ve recently been banned from the monthly play party, “again, for the same stupid reason (drinking blood),” and are approaching the looming “doomsday clock” with that same wry spirit. They fantasize about killing someone, or about being killed. They wonder if someone “has a nice scream” and says “if a girl faked an orgasm with me, that would be one thing; if she faked a scream, it might break my heart.” Lee knew they were in love with Petra “the moment I started to plan how I’d style her for her funeral viewing. I know that wanting to see your lover dead and beautiful isn’t normal, but it’s always felt normal to me.” It’s a lot — but in the best kind of way.
Davis’ writing is almost brusque, and they do a wonderful job of getting the reader caught up in the throes of this search for X. There are no chapters and are just occasional breaks, so the book has this frenetic energy and sense of disorientation, because you never exactly know where you are in the timeline of Lee’s story. The book vacillates between past (their relationship with their mom, their budding sadist tendencies, past relationships) and the present-ish search for X (jumping between the people who can help Lee find her and the incident with her) in a way that’s mostly well done but was occasionally too confusing. Davis just kind of thrusts you into this weird world and leaves you to make sense of it yourself.
When my sister asked me what this book was about, I didn’t know exactly how to explain. But I did tell her that I liked it a lot, and I warned her that, if she reads it, to prepare to have some really, really, really weird dreams.
September 18, 2022
There were elements of this I really enjoyed: the glimmers around the edges of the narrative of the dystopia, and the straightforward exploration of sadism and sex. But overall I found the story unnecessarily diffuse with its sprawling sense of time and unclear (at least to me) narrative engine.
2.5/5
2.5/5
November 15, 2023
Disclaimer: I listened to the audiobook, so that may have influenced my opinion since I wasn't 100% focused the whole time as I was doing other things while listening.
TW: r*pe, homophobic slurs (mostly reclaimed but sometimes derogatory), murder fantasies, probably more I'm forgetting.
Never thought a book about BDSM and a cast of queer characters could be so boring. Minor gripe: the casual interchange of top=dom/domme and bottom=sub irked me throughout. Tops can be subs and vice versa. Anyway, not the main point. The characters came across as vapid. And the main "conflict"? Why should I care, babe? I wish the whole dystopian aspect were explored more than the search for X in itself.
Almost DNF about 75% of the way through when they said Someone clearly doesn't live by "safe, sane, and consensual" (though that was already quite clear). I continued on hoping there would be some twist that would save the story for me. As others have said, a flawed/dislikeable narrator can work, but when the author doesn't try to untangle those motivations or provide a message, it just comes off as shallow shock value.
I know I'm being harsh--Maybe my hopes were too high. Maybe I'm too close to the scene to suspend disbelief enough. The idea is there, the cast I (theoretically) want is there, but the execution is lacking. Gays, we can do better! If anyone has recs that do this but better, please let me know.
Was going to give two stars for trying. I really wanted to like this. But when happened I lost all sympathy. MAYBE they were into CNC, but that was not established so did not feel consensual as a reader. EVERYONE. PLEASE. KEEP IT SAFE, SANE, AND CONSENSUAL. And if you're writing a fictional scene where it's not, make it have a purpose beyond shock value or just trying to show how shitty a character is without consequences. Again, I listened to the audiobook while multitasking and tuned out a bit in reaction during that bit so maybe there was a "point" I missed, but that feels generous.
I really, really wanted to like this. I was so excited to have genderqueer main characters. Maybe the satire went over my head, maybe I missed something, maybe I'll give it another shot someday. But today, it wasn't for me. (Happy to be proven wrong if anyone wants to discuss.)
TW: r*pe, homophobic slurs (mostly reclaimed but sometimes derogatory), murder fantasies, probably more I'm forgetting.
Never thought a book about BDSM and a cast of queer characters could be so boring. Minor gripe: the casual interchange of top=dom/domme and bottom=sub irked me throughout. Tops can be subs and vice versa. Anyway, not the main point. The characters came across as vapid. And the main "conflict"? Why should I care, babe? I wish the whole dystopian aspect were explored more than the search for X in itself.
Almost DNF about 75% of the way through when they said Someone clearly doesn't live by "safe, sane, and consensual" (though that was already quite clear). I continued on hoping there would be some twist that would save the story for me. As others have said, a flawed/dislikeable narrator can work, but when the author doesn't try to untangle those motivations or provide a message, it just comes off as shallow shock value.
I know I'm being harsh--Maybe my hopes were too high. Maybe I'm too close to the scene to suspend disbelief enough. The idea is there, the cast I (theoretically) want is there, but the execution is lacking. Gays, we can do better! If anyone has recs that do this but better, please let me know.
Was going to give two stars for trying. I really wanted to like this. But when happened I lost all sympathy. MAYBE they were into CNC, but that was not established so did not feel consensual as a reader. EVERYONE. PLEASE. KEEP IT SAFE, SANE, AND CONSENSUAL. And if you're writing a fictional scene where it's not, make it have a purpose beyond shock value or just trying to show how shitty a character is without consequences. Again, I listened to the audiobook while multitasking and tuned out a bit in reaction during that bit so maybe there was a "point" I missed, but that feels generous.
I really, really wanted to like this. I was so excited to have genderqueer main characters. Maybe the satire went over my head, maybe I missed something, maybe I'll give it another shot someday. But today, it wasn't for me. (Happy to be proven wrong if anyone wants to discuss.)
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February 3, 2023Still gathering my thoughts, but essentially, X wasn't what I expected.
I wanted something hot and juicy and pleasurable to read, which I expected based on the rave reviews. Instead this was an uncomfortable and irritating read. Irritating partly because it contained all the worst parts of queer-queer social interaction, which I feel pretty tired of. I didn't find myself caring about anyone in the story, and I wasn't compelled by not liking them either. The book left me feeling a bit ambivalent, wanting something to care about, but just not feeling it. And while I've seen it described as hot several times, the sex scenes didn't have spark for me, and it didn't quite hit the mark.
I'm also not quite clear about the books relationship to dystopia. I think I'm a lazy reader at times. I want to know what's going on and don't enjoy books which leave you to work out and get confused about how/when/why they're making their world. Probably a hangover from a lit degree spent reading a lot of pretty incomprehensible stuff. That said, looking at other reviews, I'm now alone in finding some of the narrative unclear and confusing. I had to read some pages several times to work out what was happening, and that's not usually the case for me.
I enjoyed Lee's messiness: the combination of their ego driven superiority versus their cruelty and immorality. I love Davey Davis as a writer and critic. This just wasn't quite right for me and left me wanting.
I'm looking forward to talking about this more!
I wanted something hot and juicy and pleasurable to read, which I expected based on the rave reviews. Instead this was an uncomfortable and irritating read. Irritating partly because it contained all the worst parts of queer-queer social interaction, which I feel pretty tired of. I didn't find myself caring about anyone in the story, and I wasn't compelled by not liking them either. The book left me feeling a bit ambivalent, wanting something to care about, but just not feeling it. And while I've seen it described as hot several times, the sex scenes didn't have spark for me, and it didn't quite hit the mark.
I'm also not quite clear about the books relationship to dystopia. I think I'm a lazy reader at times. I want to know what's going on and don't enjoy books which leave you to work out and get confused about how/when/why they're making their world. Probably a hangover from a lit degree spent reading a lot of pretty incomprehensible stuff. That said, looking at other reviews, I'm now alone in finding some of the narrative unclear and confusing. I had to read some pages several times to work out what was happening, and that's not usually the case for me.
I enjoyed Lee's messiness: the combination of their ego driven superiority versus their cruelty and immorality. I love Davey Davis as a writer and critic. This just wasn't quite right for me and left me wanting.
I'm looking forward to talking about this more!
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March 1, 2023I picked this one up almost entirely thanks to its presence in a display of books being promoted with their one-star Amazon reviews. In this case it was something like "I don't care about these people and their weird sex lives", between which and a Torrey Peters blurb, I was sold. The plot hinges on that old, old story of the chance encounter which leaves the protagonist obsessed, but instead of a fleeting glimpse on a bridge, here that fleeting meeting is an intense BDSM session at a warehouse party, after which Lee, the narrator, passes out. Waking to find themselves with no way of contacting the mesmerising sadist X, and increasingly willing to follow any possible lead, whether that involve scrolling the apps, contacting people they'd really rather not, or pounding the streets of a near-future NYC where everything is just that little bit worse – the power cuts, the environment, most of all the politics, which as in Cabaret, are in the background of the decadence, except for when they're not. Lee's world is one of gaps and absences, whether that be their own readiness to block people at the drop of a hat, the ubiquitous online shadowbanning of anyone the least bit suspect/interesting, or the increasingly frequent 'exporting', where the US government uses various combinations of carrot and stick to encourage anyone it doesn't like the look of to renounce their citizenship and go somewhere, anywhere else.
Make no mistake, though, there is a lot of weird, savage, sex – something about which the book is entirely upfront, making me wonder what the hell that appalled reviewer thought they were getting. This is a milieu where Lee can explain the appeal of someone they hadn't originally intended to cop off with as "Margot had this charming way of looking like she was full of blood"; where make-up sex means "just some needles, for romance". Yet at the same time it knows the less gory things about connections made and dropped: the way realising you've forgotten something about someone you used to be with can hurt worse than any thrashing, the times when you wouldn't mind the not seeing someone if only you knew that they were thinking about you too. The overall tone is that awkward balancing act of longing for connection even while one is utterly disaffected with the decaying world in which that connection must be found: "Syd works for a nonprofit, where they help launder money for big corporations. From what I remember, it's not all that different from my job at a big corporation, where I help launder money through nonprofits." If I have a complaint, it's that the ending is at once underwhelming and a little obvious, but then I suppose the same goes for real life. Though of course you can tell this can't be our timeline, because Kissinger proved mortal after all – even if his end was apparently too peaceful to be of any use when Lee is digging through the darkest corners of the internet for something sufficiently appalling to pique their jaded appetites.
Make no mistake, though, there is a lot of weird, savage, sex – something about which the book is entirely upfront, making me wonder what the hell that appalled reviewer thought they were getting. This is a milieu where Lee can explain the appeal of someone they hadn't originally intended to cop off with as "Margot had this charming way of looking like she was full of blood"; where make-up sex means "just some needles, for romance". Yet at the same time it knows the less gory things about connections made and dropped: the way realising you've forgotten something about someone you used to be with can hurt worse than any thrashing, the times when you wouldn't mind the not seeing someone if only you knew that they were thinking about you too. The overall tone is that awkward balancing act of longing for connection even while one is utterly disaffected with the decaying world in which that connection must be found: "Syd works for a nonprofit, where they help launder money for big corporations. From what I remember, it's not all that different from my job at a big corporation, where I help launder money through nonprofits." If I have a complaint, it's that the ending is at once underwhelming and a little obvious, but then I suppose the same goes for real life. Though of course you can tell this can't be our timeline, because Kissinger proved mortal after all – even if his end was apparently too peaceful to be of any use when Lee is digging through the darkest corners of the internet for something sufficiently appalling to pique their jaded appetites.
June 28, 2022
A viciously beautiful book.
Lee, our narrator, is drily funny, deeply romantic, and, at times, intensely infuriating. The fascist reality of the near-future Brooklyn they scour for the eponymous X is hideous in both its familiarity and possibility. Davis's prose is lush, sumptuous, but can flick to a chilling sharpness that lays you bare and forces you to confront yourself.
This book is important, poignant, agonizing. You will chase it to its end and read it again. Happy fucking Pride.
Lee, our narrator, is drily funny, deeply romantic, and, at times, intensely infuriating. The fascist reality of the near-future Brooklyn they scour for the eponymous X is hideous in both its familiarity and possibility. Davis's prose is lush, sumptuous, but can flick to a chilling sharpness that lays you bare and forces you to confront yourself.
This book is important, poignant, agonizing. You will chase it to its end and read it again. Happy fucking Pride.
July 12, 2022
smart, sexy, specific. davis is an enthralling novelist and i loved the webs they wove in the timelines of lee’s childhood, all-too-familiar xenophobic deportation crisis, warehouse parties, and office mundanity. lee’s quest to find x from obnoxious rich kids in punk bands to the surveilled social media is so compellingly constructed. simultaneously grim and fun. great summer read.
March 18, 2022
ok wow
January 27, 2023
feel bad that i didn’t like this bc it was so deep but it just didn’t hit at all apart from like these 20-30 pages near the middle
November 28, 2022
This was a hot, scary, psychological whirlpool of a book. While the actual plot wasn’t anything to write home about (the politics of the near-future world—where certain US citizens, deemed undesirable for various reasons, are encouraged or forced to “export,” voiding their US citizenship—was only scantly developed) the inner-world character development on protagonist Lee was unreal, vivid and scintillating. I loved the balance between the amount we were given as readers and the amount that was withheld from us, and thought the pacing was done really well. Tunneling through the lives of the queer/leather/sex-worker communities (and all their distinctions and overlaps) in Brooklyn, the book is an insider read, gleefully using queer language and shorthand without explaining itself. That was nice. On the other hand, there were at least two instances in which Davies employs Black language (regular degular and jawn), perhaps mistaking these terms for “internet speak”?, in a way that felt appropriative and careless in an otherwise carefully written book.
This book absolutely lives up to its genre as a noir. It is cynical, violent, smoky and dark. It is really *about* violence (state violence, medical violence, non-consensual violence, consensual violence, sexual violence), and the capacity of violence and pain to damage, to heal, to transform, to motivate, to irreparably rupture. Also about danger and safety, safety’s elusiveness, this is not a book where great S/M consent is practiced or represented, which felt okay to me—literature being a great place to play with what that looks like, the risks and possibilities therein.
This book absolutely lives up to its genre as a noir. It is cynical, violent, smoky and dark. It is really *about* violence (state violence, medical violence, non-consensual violence, consensual violence, sexual violence), and the capacity of violence and pain to damage, to heal, to transform, to motivate, to irreparably rupture. Also about danger and safety, safety’s elusiveness, this is not a book where great S/M consent is practiced or represented, which felt okay to me—literature being a great place to play with what that looks like, the risks and possibilities therein.
September 8, 2022
i have most Certainly never read anything like this!
really intense and even difficult to read at points due to depictions of violence, this exploration of pleasure/pain in the midst of the world ending was impossible to put down (i read it in one day). commentary on agency and obsession and escapism and the state and the ~queer community~ and S&M and abuse and work and class and solidarity and hurting and being hurt all felt specific while remaining vague. page turning, even if the resolution you're hoping for is never reached (which is sort of the point, no?)
really intense and even difficult to read at points due to depictions of violence, this exploration of pleasure/pain in the midst of the world ending was impossible to put down (i read it in one day). commentary on agency and obsession and escapism and the state and the ~queer community~ and S&M and abuse and work and class and solidarity and hurting and being hurt all felt specific while remaining vague. page turning, even if the resolution you're hoping for is never reached (which is sort of the point, no?)
March 2, 2026
I had to check it to make sure, because X kind of sounded like it'd be in the strain of Paul Takes The Form Of A Mortal Girl or a Songs of No Provenance. You know, freaked out little goobers with Gender Trouble and Fucked Up personal lives? No such luck, or at least not as lifechanging to me, but while I knew I really wouldn't be into the more allosexual tones this novel contains, (up to and including a Red Hot Riding Hood reference, I giggled) I don't think ill of it, and it's actually pretty chill.
My ears went up because it's about a they/them dyke named Lee who is usually a stone top but I guess they had a transcendent experience with the titular X, and are now on her trail hoping for more. They also can't stop noticing how nice it must be to be some beautiful lady's dog, though, which I had a good chuckle at. Otherwise Lee is kind of the usual disaffected, down-on-their-luck queer you see in these "New York just DOES THAT to people!" novels. Sadly I didn't find them all that distinct.
The novel itself is distinct at times; I can tell from the way it's vague-ish that it's meant to be a slightly dystopian USA, but while it's cool that the two political parties are accurately referred to as "the slightly more/slightly less fascist party", I think even when this was written the nightmare maze of immigration services (read: deportation) was a lot more real to a lot of people than the average reader might think. Kids in cages is not that recent a US development. Did make me think about the fact that my being autistic about birth certificate orders was just a fraction of the hell that's out there, though. The cop-loving true-crime podcasters that Lee listend to are a nice comedy underline.
It's neat that the centerpiece Scene in the novel is a li'l medical play, and I do kind of like how that's woven through it, how it plays out for Lee, and how they consider safewording but do not. On the other hand, even well before the stirrups came out, I might as well have had the author on speed dial for how fast I fucking called it. That's not a crime on the book's part, but I do have to say that X the novel felt slightly predictable, which I do not adore.
I think I also just don't really get Lee themself, though. I know to some extent how experiences like that can be transformative, but that doesn't really mean I got super invested in their X-Quest. Of course, I'm really not much for BDSM, this New York City Nightlife where your entire personality hinges on "bottom or top", so your mileage will probably rate better than mine. I'm soft and wobbly, so Lee being unable to whip a playmate or stuff doesn't really "hit" with me. Frankly I snorted a little at their apparently-new revelation regarding how nice being a dog must be. Yes, hello, Lee, what rock have you been living under? I could tell that we could never be friends right about here, 60% through the book:
"I didn't understand the point of rewarding an animal that resisted correction, but after we hung out a few times, she told me she didn't actually like pain all that much. She wanted to know if she could just be my puppy instead, the kind you pet and feed and train and let sleep curled around your feet at the bottom of the bed. I blocked her."
Which is less because I disapprove of their behaviour (I know there are many dimensions, motivations and forms to this stuff) and more because we just have different sensibilities. So mean! Gotta say, though, that given my thoughts about them, this is one of their best character moments if you ask me. Lee, butch-y top, late 20s, only wants a dog they can beat. Hard.
They do seem to believe they're really sincerely fucked up, but while getting off to snuff videos online is definitely unusual, they're a mostly harmless critter to me. You like inflicting pain and seeing your sub bleed, waaaow, so hardcore. They do get banned from dyke sex parties for drinking blood, though! Still, I was put in mind of a quote from a famous librarian I read once, about a different book: "Babygirl, you're a sub, that doesn't make you the joker!" I think the same applies here :) Their more plainly violent thoughts (drywall fist) sometimes felt like the book goading me into saying something dumb, but Idk, they're not really a ragey person. Pretty good at anger management, actually, albeit they do exhibit issues around the concept of consent once or twice... I found I couldn't tell 100% whether all this was a sincere expression and I'm intended to think Lee is fucked up, or the book is taking the piss out of them since they're a new yorker. Y'know.
By the same token though, this dumb, disaffected new york protagonist shit REALLY seems to work for me, because despite thinking about how silly and edgy Lee was, and how this whole quest was a lot, and what's the fucking point of enmeshing yourself in the spider's web of nightmare NYC dyke drama if you can't even take command of it to find the surgical shiny-booted dommy mommy of your dreams... I still read X. I was still chill, really the book was still chill. I kinda feel like I could sit in Lee's head for a lot longer, which I also feel about Reese from Detrans and especially Joan from Songs of No Provenance. You get to decide if that's because I've been indoctrinated or not.
Unsurprisingly not really for me, but equally unsurprisingly I kind of fucked with it anyway, which I guess is just the way I am now. Tell me there's a weird, depressed queer crashing out in a novel set in New York, I'm there. I guess I can give X the novel a recommendation? Like, sure, if you're that kind of sicko, if you were drawn to it already. Or alternatively, if you're allosexual and its rendition of kink subculture speaks to you more than it did me. It's not a world-shaker, but not every "depressed fuck fails at life in NY" story can be, right?
My ears went up because it's about a they/them dyke named Lee who is usually a stone top but I guess they had a transcendent experience with the titular X, and are now on her trail hoping for more. They also can't stop noticing how nice it must be to be some beautiful lady's dog, though, which I had a good chuckle at. Otherwise Lee is kind of the usual disaffected, down-on-their-luck queer you see in these "New York just DOES THAT to people!" novels. Sadly I didn't find them all that distinct.
The novel itself is distinct at times; I can tell from the way it's vague-ish that it's meant to be a slightly dystopian USA, but while it's cool that the two political parties are accurately referred to as "the slightly more/slightly less fascist party", I think even when this was written the nightmare maze of immigration services (read: deportation) was a lot more real to a lot of people than the average reader might think. Kids in cages is not that recent a US development. Did make me think about the fact that my being autistic about birth certificate orders was just a fraction of the hell that's out there, though. The cop-loving true-crime podcasters that Lee listend to are a nice comedy underline.
It's neat that the centerpiece Scene in the novel is a li'l medical play, and I do kind of like how that's woven through it, how it plays out for Lee, and how they consider safewording but do not. On the other hand, even well before the stirrups came out, I might as well have had the author on speed dial for how fast I fucking called it. That's not a crime on the book's part, but I do have to say that X the novel felt slightly predictable, which I do not adore.
I think I also just don't really get Lee themself, though. I know to some extent how experiences like that can be transformative, but that doesn't really mean I got super invested in their X-Quest. Of course, I'm really not much for BDSM, this New York City Nightlife where your entire personality hinges on "bottom or top", so your mileage will probably rate better than mine. I'm soft and wobbly, so Lee being unable to whip a playmate or stuff doesn't really "hit" with me. Frankly I snorted a little at their apparently-new revelation regarding how nice being a dog must be. Yes, hello, Lee, what rock have you been living under? I could tell that we could never be friends right about here, 60% through the book:
"I didn't understand the point of rewarding an animal that resisted correction, but after we hung out a few times, she told me she didn't actually like pain all that much. She wanted to know if she could just be my puppy instead, the kind you pet and feed and train and let sleep curled around your feet at the bottom of the bed. I blocked her."
Which is less because I disapprove of their behaviour (I know there are many dimensions, motivations and forms to this stuff) and more because we just have different sensibilities. So mean! Gotta say, though, that given my thoughts about them, this is one of their best character moments if you ask me. Lee, butch-y top, late 20s, only wants a dog they can beat. Hard.
They do seem to believe they're really sincerely fucked up, but while getting off to snuff videos online is definitely unusual, they're a mostly harmless critter to me. You like inflicting pain and seeing your sub bleed, waaaow, so hardcore. They do get banned from dyke sex parties for drinking blood, though! Still, I was put in mind of a quote from a famous librarian I read once, about a different book: "Babygirl, you're a sub, that doesn't make you the joker!" I think the same applies here :) Their more plainly violent thoughts (drywall fist) sometimes felt like the book goading me into saying something dumb, but Idk, they're not really a ragey person. Pretty good at anger management, actually, albeit they do exhibit issues around the concept of consent once or twice... I found I couldn't tell 100% whether all this was a sincere expression and I'm intended to think Lee is fucked up, or the book is taking the piss out of them since they're a new yorker. Y'know.
By the same token though, this dumb, disaffected new york protagonist shit REALLY seems to work for me, because despite thinking about how silly and edgy Lee was, and how this whole quest was a lot, and what's the fucking point of enmeshing yourself in the spider's web of nightmare NYC dyke drama if you can't even take command of it to find the surgical shiny-booted dommy mommy of your dreams... I still read X. I was still chill, really the book was still chill. I kinda feel like I could sit in Lee's head for a lot longer, which I also feel about Reese from Detrans and especially Joan from Songs of No Provenance. You get to decide if that's because I've been indoctrinated or not.
Unsurprisingly not really for me, but equally unsurprisingly I kind of fucked with it anyway, which I guess is just the way I am now. Tell me there's a weird, depressed queer crashing out in a novel set in New York, I'm there. I guess I can give X the novel a recommendation? Like, sure, if you're that kind of sicko, if you were drawn to it already. Or alternatively, if you're allosexual and its rendition of kink subculture speaks to you more than it did me. It's not a world-shaker, but not every "depressed fuck fails at life in NY" story can be, right?
August 3, 2022
teetering between a 2 and 3. this story has good bones but ultimately i walk away from it disappointed and frustrated. would’ve been better if not so corny, but i think the mc is just way too unlikable for me to care about them in a character driven story.
July 13, 2022
just trust me on this one
November 7, 2022
couldn’t put it down. dark and disturbing and kinky with an mystery at the center that keeps pulling you through the plot. very good.
February 7, 2024
Fucked me up for days
Read
January 7, 2023An auspicious, delicious start to my reading list this year. Sexy, violent, post-apocalyptic, noirish fun.
July 3, 2022
Can't go higher than three stars for a few reasons . . .
First, it would be more than a little patronizing to praise a dystopian lesbian S&M novel just because it's a dystopian lesbian S&M novel. To idealize is to objectify, and while "X" celebrates objectification, it's something I try to avoid.
So what is the experience of reading this particular dystopian lesbian S&M novel for someone as vanilla as myself?
On the minus side, it's slightly boring.
That's almost an achievement, considering how extreme some of the sex is in this novel. The author is making no attempt to shock or titillate the reader, they're just trying to be honest about life in a social milieu where flagellation and fisting are far more common than dinner and a movie for a first date. And one lesson of "X" is that orgies and fetishism can become just as mundane as shopping and Netflixing. That may be a profound observation about human nature, but it's not the most uplifting one. Not helping is the disjoined, anecdotal way (preferred title unknown) Davis tells the story. Lee, the narrator, is supposed to be obsessed with the title "femdom" (as in femme dominatrix, not feminine condom) with whom they shared an encounter so intense it left permanent scars (both literal and figurative). But they'll interrupt their quest for X with random memories about their childhood and ex-girlfriends. If Lee isn't focused on X, there's not much reason for us to care about the goal, either.
On the plus side, it's very confusing.
I like the way (preferred title unknown) Davis immerses the reader in this demimonde without explaining anything. They aren't didactic, they aren't exhibitionistic, they aren't cliquish, they just depict this world and move through it, and if you don't quite understand what "bottom" means in this very specific context, well, that's what Google is for. (Use a VPN.) I kind of like the way America is portrayed in the near future as a xenophobic police state, but Lee is so self-involved that she seems able to shrug off the autocracy at will. Once again, if they don't care, why should we?
So as literature, I find "X" to be more courageous than good. Maybe if I were a little closer to its targeted audience, I'd like or dislike it more, who knows.
First, it would be more than a little patronizing to praise a dystopian lesbian S&M novel just because it's a dystopian lesbian S&M novel. To idealize is to objectify, and while "X" celebrates objectification, it's something I try to avoid.
So what is the experience of reading this particular dystopian lesbian S&M novel for someone as vanilla as myself?
On the minus side, it's slightly boring.
That's almost an achievement, considering how extreme some of the sex is in this novel. The author is making no attempt to shock or titillate the reader, they're just trying to be honest about life in a social milieu where flagellation and fisting are far more common than dinner and a movie for a first date. And one lesson of "X" is that orgies and fetishism can become just as mundane as shopping and Netflixing. That may be a profound observation about human nature, but it's not the most uplifting one. Not helping is the disjoined, anecdotal way (preferred title unknown) Davis tells the story. Lee, the narrator, is supposed to be obsessed with the title "femdom" (as in femme dominatrix, not feminine condom) with whom they shared an encounter so intense it left permanent scars (both literal and figurative). But they'll interrupt their quest for X with random memories about their childhood and ex-girlfriends. If Lee isn't focused on X, there's not much reason for us to care about the goal, either.
On the plus side, it's very confusing.
I like the way (preferred title unknown) Davis immerses the reader in this demimonde without explaining anything. They aren't didactic, they aren't exhibitionistic, they aren't cliquish, they just depict this world and move through it, and if you don't quite understand what "bottom" means in this very specific context, well, that's what Google is for. (Use a VPN.) I kind of like the way America is portrayed in the near future as a xenophobic police state, but Lee is so self-involved that she seems able to shrug off the autocracy at will. Once again, if they don't care, why should we?
So as literature, I find "X" to be more courageous than good. Maybe if I were a little closer to its targeted audience, I'd like or dislike it more, who knows.
September 12, 2022
What to even say about X… I could say that in its fusion of gloomy neo-noir and beyond-taboo sadomasochism it’s like a cross between The Long Goodbye and the infamous Leash… The Long Leash, if you will. I could talk about how Davey Davis’ ability to depict a world five minutes further along into collapse, and to populate that world with unflinchingly imperfect protagonists, remains as disquieting as it is impressive. I could say it successfully misled me into thinking it would be less upsetting than the earthquake room but it ends up being more. Or I could just say it’s can’t-put-it-down compelling and hot as often as it is have-to-put-it-down unbearable.
August 12, 2022
I tried to read X slowly so I could savor it, but instead I couldn't put it down despite my best intentions. I've been thinking about it ever since I finished it. The characters and the world feel (unfortunately) so realistic (although rude of there to be a near-future dystopia where Juuls are still legal), and I loved the noir take on BDSM. Currently on a campaign to make all my friends read it, although "so it starts with a dungeon waterboarding scene" has been a harder sell for some than others. If this book is for you, though, it's perfect.
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