(Rounded from 3.5)
I regularly talk about the importance of story and storytelling as a means of understanding what it means to be human, and I also have an interest in and gone on ad nauseum about the relationship between queer identity and genre fiction, especially horror. Which is all to say, this should be like catnip for me… and yet I finished feeling a little wanting.
Let’s start with the good, and there is a lot of it. Firstly, in just broad strokes, the writing style is fun. It is smooth and very readable, conveying historical research with a confidence that combines with a few little personal flourishes here and there that keep the tone light and fun. It never felt like a stuffy lecture, and always kept me engaged. That’s not always easy in a nonfiction book that covers as much material as this one without having a strong central narrative or character; it could easily have become a dry textbook, and that never happened.
I like his broad exploration of what it means to be folklore. The idea that all story and story telling are valid and important, whether that be in myth or art or campfire stories or video games. The ways he navigated some contemporary material was what bothered me a little, which I will get to below, but the respect he gave for the broad category of storytelling and the role it plays in shaping cultural identity was wonderful.
Sacha Coward is a researcher and historian, and that shows. I really enjoyed all of the actual historical research that was done. He was very conscious of the fact that current ideas of gender and sexuality that are wrapped up in the idea of queer identity are not entirely mappable across time and space, and to impute contemporary labels on other cultures could easily become acts of historical appropriation and orientalism. With this in mind he does a great job of exploring how ways of being in the world influenced the stories that were told, and the deities and monsters found in those stories.
The research I thought was great. But this isn’t just about presenting research. This combines research with contemporary ideas and identities, and tries to draw lines between (ancient) story and (contemporary) reality. Obviously I see the value in this, but these sections always just felt remarkably anecdotal to me. They felt really light, like simple handpicked observations that seem like they are supporting the historical research but really might just run parallel to it. For example, the connection between the gender politics of witchcraft and witch hunts with marginalized queer identity and then young queer kids who are/were obsessed with the films “The Craft” or “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” just felt remarkably tenuous and not particularly enlightening. This is magnified by the fact that sometimes, especially in the first section, he is looking at queer representation and participation in ancient society through mythological beings. But as he moves on to other types of story-land creatures, he is sometimes talking less about the monsters and more about the individuals who wrote their stories. So, this historical excavation gets messy, sometimes focusing not on the representation in shared mythological history but instead individual creators celebrated for creating certain types of the fantastical. There is utility in seeing how queer folks write themselves in and through their stories in ways that make marginalized identities appealing to the masses, but that isn’t the same thing as mythological or monstrous or fantastical beings being queer-coded or imbued with queer spirit at a societal level. They are both valid avenues of exploration, but they aren’t the same. So, as we got into the second and third sections of the book some of what the historical project was trying to do got messy (even when the historical information was interesting and clearly well-researched). Combine that with what felt like remarkably anecdotal and sometimes thin, surface-level contemporary resonance and it felt like it lost a lot of its bite.
I did appreciate the way it ended, and I almost think the final section would have worked better at the beginning, to help shape the whole project. Coward identifies five archetypal traits that connect queer identity to the monstrous and fantastic. He explains each of them, noting that none of them are the sole domain of queer identity, and some are shared but various marginalized identities, and that not all queer folk will feel like they seem themselves in all five, but there is something unique in the way these five archetypes overlap that speak to the historical, classical, and contemporary queer experiences. This I think is powerful, whether you agree with his assessment 100% or not, and if the historical research was done more explicitly unpacking these five archetypes, instead of using them as summation at the end, then maybe I would have felt less put off by what felt like hand-wavey, anecdotal connections to contemporary experience, and so on.
This was a pretty massive undertaking, and it felt that in the effort to make it as robust and pertinent as possible it occasionally felt a little too rambling, stretching itself thin and occasionally losing the plot. That said, the research alone was worth it, it is pretty meticulously done and carefully put together, recognizing scholarly subjectivity and respecting the object of study without sacrificing personal interpretation. And, importantly, it was presented in a compelling and engaging manner, never feeling like a dusty lecture hall but instead always feeling light on its feet and with a spring in its step. For that alone I think this is worth it. While some of the contemporary analogues didn’t work for me, (not in that I thought they were wrong, just that I felt there was a pretty huge gap between the research and some of these conclusions/propositions), they still provide an interesting locus for reflection. If nothing else it offers a great tool for us to observe the ways we consume and celebrate art, celebrate and dive into story, and see what kind of cultural and historical antecedents might be participating in that ongoing conversation.
I want to thank the author, the publisher Unbound, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily.