In the beginning, there is no he. There is no she.
Two cells make up one cell. This is the mathematics behind creation. One plus one makes one. Life begets life. We are the period to a sentence, the effect to a cause, always belonging to someone. We are never our own.
This is why we are so lonely.
She of the Mountains is a beautifully rendered illustrated novel by Vivek Shraya, the author of the Lambda Literary Award finalist God Loves Hair. Shraya weaves a passionate, contemporary love story between a man and his body, with a re-imagining of Hindu mythology. Both narratives explore the complexities of embodiment and the damaging effects that policing gender and sexuality can have on the human heart.
Illustrations are by Raymond Biesinger, whose work has appeared in such publications as The New Yorker and the New York Times.
Vivek Shraya is a multimedia artist, working in the mediums of music, performance, literature, and film. Her most recent film, What I LOVE about Being QUEER, has been expanded to include an online project and book with contributions from around the world. She is also author of God Loves Hairand Even This Page Is White.
Vivek Shraya is an artist whose body of work crosses the boundaries of music, literature, visual art, theatre, and film. She is the author of The Subtweet, Death Threat, even this page is white, The Boy & The Bindi, She of the Mountains, and God Loves Hair; and her best-selling I’m Afraid of Men was heralded by Vanity Fair as “cultural rocket fuel”. She is one half of the music duo Too Attached, founder of the publishing imprint VS. Books, and an Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Calgary.
When she did leave, and a second head appeared on his shoulder, he tried to conjure her love. She loves you, she loves you, she loves you, he said to the head. It refused to disappear.
Why isn’t this working? She loves you, she loves you, she loves you, his original head kept telling the other, his voice increasing in volume, thinking perhaps the new head’s ears could not hear very well.
You’re wasting your breath, the new head replied. And it was right. Her love did seem to have limitations. Its effects were temporary, and he desired a more permanent solution.
But she loves you, he cried. She loves you, she loves you… I love you, he accidentally blurted.
No you don’t, the other head responded. It was right again.
***
She of the Mountains tells two stories partially in concert with one another: The first is a retelling/reimagining of the Hindu myth of creation, focusing on the relationship between the mother of the universe Parvati, the Lord of Destruction Shiv (Shiva), and Parvati’s son Ganesh, who is beheaded by Shiv before having his head replaced with that of an elephant demon’s; the second narrative details the sexual evolution of a young boy and the girl he loves, despite the voices in his head and those surrounding him from all sides and shouting at him, telling him in no uncertain terms just how gay (and in denial) he really is. Tying these two narratives together, beyond slight repeating themes and ideas, are occasional sparse illustrations used to blur the line between the two realities.
At its core, Vivek Shraya’s unique twin narrative appears to be about embodiment and dysmorphia—and not just dysmorphia in the physical sense so commonly attributed to those suffering eating disorders (although there is an element of that within the text), but dysmorphia tied to the perception of others who see the main character’s expected black-or-white sexuality as a badge or label that quite literally transforms his appearance—or should.
The novella is similar in detached tone to that of a fable. The non-mythological characters are only “he” and “she,” a collection of experiences and physical attributes woven together but never quite achieving genuine depth or dimension. The story follows the pair from Edmonton to Toronto, offering small pieces of information here and there regarding who they are and the worlds they’ve come from without ever really giving them concrete identities the reader can latch onto.
What is made clear from the beginning is that “he” is representative of both the “other” and the opposition to what the “other” represents—the hard lines dividing one lifestyle from another. “He” is:
“… in a brown category that was generally frowned upon by other brown people, especially other brown parents: Alternative brown. This meant he wore vintage clothing, had his ears pierced, had blond streaks, and hung out with non-browns.”
Additionally, his sexuality is questioned by others before he can begin to address it himself—the words “you’re gay” are flung at him first as something to be ashamed of, and later as something to define his passions (which when tied to the phrase’s initial intentions—shame—cloak his desire beneath a veil of unease).
Taking this detachment from self a step further is the character of The Only Other Gay, whom the main character meets while still living in Edmonton, just as he is beginning to accept himself as both being gay but also loving and finding himself attracted to his dearest friend, the “she” of the tale. Through The Only Other Gay, the protagonist sees with greater clarity the hard line that exists for many between gay and straight, and how little it differs from the hard lines so frequently drawn between people of different races and socioeconomic classes: He wonders if in fact he is bisexual due to the conflict between his nature and his heart’s own desires. Even among those expected to want to include him, the protagonist is still the “other” in his refusal (or inability) to fit comfortably beneath just one banner.
I found the novella strongest near the end, in the third part, as the protagonist, deep in the throes of self-doubt and/or self-hatred, begins to psychologically unravel. He imagines himself with extra limbs, extra fingers, a tail—all manifestations of his struggles with accepting himself as someone hovering between several worlds without something to keep him grounded. That something, in this case, being first her pronouncement of love for him, and second, his reciprocation (given unexpectedly). This felt like the payoff for the slight anxiety-based dysmorphia that had been alluded to throughout the novella.
Overall I enjoyed She of the Mountains, but I wasn’t as moved by it as I’d hoped to be, based on its enticing premise. Additionally the images, while lovely, did not feel particularly essential to the narrative, or even to its presentation. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy looking at them—they’re lovingly executed—only that had they been removed, I don’t feel as if my reading of the text would have suffered in any way. However, Shraya’s novella is still an interesting, wholly unique read, one I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend. I just wish I were feeling a little more “full” from the experience.
This was a great book filled with stories about being uniquely you. I love these stories about queer and non-binary individuals. I would love to read this again it was quick and enjoyable. 🥰🙌🏽
Told in concert with one another, this book is part Hindu retelling and part coming-of-age story about a man and his relationship with his body and identity.
Despite being published six years ago, She of the Mountains remains so... relevant and subversive and explores territory that I am still wishing we saw more of. But what really resonated with me was how this book explores how 'being gay' can lead to bullying and anti-gay rhetoric from straight people and how 'being queer' comes loaded with labels and expectations and gate-keeping from gay people. I really connected to how, as a brown bisexual man, queer identity can feel so othering. I felt that so so deeply.
I listened to this as an audiobook without realizing it was initially an illustrated novel, and I was probably missing out quite a lot by not being able to see the pictures! Ah well, I still enjoyed it. It tells two interwoven stories, one of a queer Indian-Canadian man coming of age, growing through several romantic relationships and into a relationship with his own body. The other is a re-imagining of piece of Hindu mythology, of Parvati's creation of Ganesh, his murder by Shiva, and his recreation with the head of an elephant. The overall theme is of the simultaneous monstrousness and divinity of bodies, and how one makes peace with the body they must live in.
Beautifully combines two narratives- a reimagination of several different Hindu mythological stories, and a contemporary story of a queer man's journey of his personal identity. The writing is lyrical and the emotions are raw. You can't miss out on this one.
This is an incredibly beautiful and important work that weaves the trauma of policing gender and sexuality, as well the struggle of growing up a POC in a majority white country, through a beautiful modern coming of age and significant relationships story with a retelling of Hindu mythology to create a work that is simultaneously vulnerable; delicate; and exquisite, and bombastic, mighty, and indomitable in its exploration and exclamation that our bodies, experiences, wants, needs; our selves are beautiful, and the constraints and castigation of society and the small-minded that make us monstrous.
I can't personally speak to the cultural or racial elements, but the Queer pain, trauma, liberation, and exultation hit me where I live! I'm non-binary trans femme bisexual panromantic lesbian who's disabled and fat who was denigrated and repressed nearly all my life and the bodily struggles and the heartbreak when Queer and Transphobia, and archaic binary thinking comes from within our own communities that echoes throughout this book truly struck a chord with me and my experiences.
I cannot recommend the audiobook read by the author more strongly for just how powerful differently inflected each of the repeated words and phrases that permeate the text like mantras are. It's really something else. The listing of house items alone nearly brought me to tears from the impact of the reading.
I am absolutely blown away and will absolutely seek out more from this author!
Much of the nuance in this thoughtful book concerns the label "gay" being an awkward fit — first it was a slur applied by school bullies, and later thrown around by gay people themselves.
Maybe it feels awkward, but the word has had many evolving meanings, and other words, such as queer, have an equally complicated and slippery history.
The illustrations are amazing, and the interplay between spiritual mythology and personal development is endlessly thought provoking. All in all, a unique and unexpected achievement.
However, I'm not a fan of a word or phrase repeated in print for half a page or an entire page. One does not read this, just skips it. Sure, it makes an impact, but anytime you invite the reader to skip over your text you have to ask yourself if is it worth doing.
This is a superb and wondrous work on the ever-shifting nature of queer relationalities, proof that the dialogues we enter into together as lovers and companions and unclassifiables need never close, and proof that the conversations begun with us before we are able to consent to them –– the shouted slur at one's childself, the unnameable dissociation from what our bodyminds "ought to be" –– not only continue but invite our personal intevention.
This is a long way of saying that Shraya demonstrates the best parts of queer remythologizing: she wields beauty and heart to invent queer life in her terms, to draw love and beauty from each cut thread of cisheteronormative refusal. Her devastating documentation of a relationship whose "failures" and "successes" intermingle in a delightfully queer way. The literal illuminations to this illuminated (beautifully illustrated!!!) text make it all the more enjoyable.
This was quite a new style and genre of writing for me so I didn’t start reading with any expectations or idea of what I might read. I really enjoyed it, it cleverly crossed so many divides; prose and poetic, genres, genders, literary techniques. A brilliant, short novel
I liked the myths and I liked the truths uncovered but the romantic in me, wanted them to stay together and become stronger, especially because their love seemed so strong and good. But I guess you can't predict your journey and staying for the wrong reasons hurts you both. Read half in the library and the rest at home in one day. Illustrations were a welcome addition.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Oh, what can I say about this book that will do it justice? First of all, I read it in all of 90 minutes, AND it has illustrations! I am going to buy a physical copy of this book so that I can underline and highlight my favorite passages; there were just too many to count.
But here, I'll give you one: "At first, he was certain that the confusion arose from language; more specifically, the failure of language...But with the absence of language, of a label, came an unfortunate implication: shame. To not to commit to a label, however committed he was to his relationship, was to be indecisive which meant confused which meant closeted which meant GAY."
Reading this book was like unwrapping layers and layers of a sweet, delicious fruit, each layer more intriguing and than the last. Being not too big on poetry I am usually wary of poetry-esque books, and I'm sure if I had known that this was written in metaphor, occasionally in verse, I probably wouldn't have read it. And it's true, the connections between the Parvati/Ganesh/Shiva storyline and the nameless narrator are not immediately apparently, and true I still don't QUITE get the connections...but a lot of it is about embodiment, gender, identity and existing in the strange unlabeled space between gay and straight, man and woman, alive and dead, and so on and so forth. There are themes of self-love, identity, of the duality of mankind/the divine, of the journey everyone goes through of forgetting oneself and then remembering oneself and then finally, slowly, loving oneself. The author also makes some fine points about how overidentification with labels can be constricting rather than liberating, without seeming too preachy about it - it's just part of the story.
OVERALL, a great, quick read that really made me think, and I am curious about Shraya's other works!
He remembered the double helix structure of DNA he had been shown in biology class and thought, how appropriate that it looked like a chain.
A searing look at the complexities of body and gender, told in dual narratives; one of a man learning to love his body, and the other a retelling of Hindu mythology through the eyes of different gods. I loved this for its commentary on intra-community policing, how harmful it can be, and how useless it is when compared with how expansive and complicated gender and sexuality and attraction can be. The protagonist deals with a lot of biphobia, and people of all sexualities foisting labels upon him. There are some great passages about how some gay people want all of us to fit into this one box and that's just... not possible. The romance was so lovely and heartaching; I adored the sense of exploration and discovery and just how enamoured he was with her. I really liked the writing; very poetic and fluid. There were some instances of stylistic repetition that really didn't translate well to audiobook format, but otherwise, I really liked it.
Speaking of, I listened to the audiobook as read by the author, and it was lovely. This was really different from anything I've ever read in terms of style and format, and that newness was refreshing. Can't wait to read more of her work!
Wow, I was not expecting to love this little book as much as I did. I wish I could send this book to my confused queer self a couple years ago. Bi representation is so f-ing important. So many of the questions in this book were the same questions I asked myself and if I had known I wasn't the only one I would've come out way sooner. The Hindu stories were a great way to divide up the sections and the changes in the narrator. I also related way too hard to the relationship. Except everyone reads me as straight. I might do a full video review because this deserves the attention.
Das Buch spielt sich auf zwei unterschiedlichen Handlungsebenen ab. Zum einen werden Motive der hinduistischen Mythologie aufgegriffen: Parvati erschafft sich ihren Sohn Ganesha, der von Shiva zunächst enthauptet und dann mit einem Elefantenkopf wieder zum Leben erweckt wird. Im zweiten Handlungsstrang folgen wir einem queeren Jugendlichen auf der Suche nach seiner sexuellen Identität.
So wie der Elefantenkopf einem fremden Körper übergestülpt wird, so werden unserem jungen Mann Attribute sexueller Identität angedichtet, bevor er selber eine Chance hat, sich selbst in dieser Hinsicht zu finden. Jeder Weg zu einer gesunden Akzeptanz des eigenen Körpers, der eigenen Wünsche und zur Selbstliebe scheint schon versperrt, bevor er auch nur den ersten Schritt tun kann.
Wie der Protagonist zu kämpfen hat, von Selbstzweifeln und auch Selbstekel zerfressen wird, ist so eindringlich dargestellt, dass es einen schaudern lässt. Die Lovestory, in der zwei Menschen gegen alle Widerstände versuchen miteinander glücklich zu werden, geht fast ebenso nah. Am Ende die, zugegeben banale, jedoch deswegen nicht unwichtige, Erkenntnis, dass Selbstliebe die Voraussetzung ist, um Liebe wirklich auch von außen annehmen zu können.
Mir wurde neulich mal erklärt, warum es oft besser ist, 'queer' zu sagen anstatt 'homosexuell'. Ich hatte das verstanden. Aber nach diesem Buch habe ich es nun tatsächlich VERSTANDEN. Allein dafür lohnt es sich schon, dieses wunderbare schmale Buch zu lesen!
A stunning lyrical novel that weaves a bisexual story of love and lust with Hindu mythology to create a story that is fucking gorgeous in it’s vivid emotional draw.
She of the Mountains by Lambda Literary Award-winning bisexual author Vivek Shraya blends two stories into one, alternating between telling the Hindu myths of Pavarti, Ganesh, and Shiv with a harsh bisexual coming of age story. The unnamed effeminate bisexual main character endures a childhood of homophobic bullying that leads to his coming out as gay, only to fall unexpectedly into love and lust with a woman.
Reread this for class (have been teaching it) and was wowed again by its disruption of the normative gay coming-out tale and its commitment to questioning, fluidity, indeterminacy (as well as its challenge to hetero and homonormativity and compulsory monosexuality). The parallel storyline of Parvati, Shiva, and Ganesh brings queer reproduction, queer embodiment, and epic long love into the novel, while the mortal protagonist struggles against the categories assigned to him. Bi/Q/T/POC; a thoroughly queer (bi) coming-of-age story that doesn't shut down the trans possibility (in comparison with many contemporary YA novels that are either gay or trans; and rarely use the language of queerness).
The NB/queer South-Asian-American narrative with Hindu mythology retellings woven in that I could have used like a couple of decades ago. I loved the author's narration and singing in the audiobook, but knowing the hard copy is illustrated, I'm going to purchase that now. Only quibble is that the parallels to the tale of Shiva and Shakti wasn't always... parallel. I might have chosen different parts of their story as a companion narrative, but I would be the last person to presume what speaks to an individual in the Eastern mythological canon in their personal journey. Also, I needed this to be much longer, but that's just me being greedy.
She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya is a skillfully crafted book, part autobiographical and part retelling of the Hindu mythology, that explores the life of a boy who is navigating his identity which are primarily decreed by the people outside of him. The author discusses many different themes like gender identity and self-image, and connects them in a way that I personally thought was so easy to discern. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Gender identity can come in so many forms - yes, it is, you guessed it, a spectrum. This is one of the prominent themes of the book and chronicles the protagonist trying to develop a sense of self while dealing with the labels forced upon him. Shraya also touches upon the topic of biphobia, and how there is a widely spread belief that bisexuality is just a temporary phase and is not a true identity. Here is when the author acknowledges the "queerness" that sets one outside the binary. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ She of the Mountains is a great piece of literature that discusses gender identity and the struggles to fit in within the boundaries imposed by the society. It's also a love story between a person and their body that everyone needs to read. I would say do not rush it, take time to really enjoy the words and the emotion. The illustrations are done by Raymond Biesinger and they tie in beautifully with the stories.
Desperately wanted to like this book. Queer, crossing cultures, timelines, genre and narration, I listened with increasing frustration to the end, where, to be honest, it was a case of a few gems in amongst a huge amount of pretentious twaddle. Reptition of phrases e.g. "you're gay. You're gay. You're gay. You're gay. You're gay" for several minutes, which is done throughout the book, was intensely frustrating and I ended up resorting to the fast forward button. I listened at first, hoping to find the poetry, find the resonance in this monotonous beat, but it was just annoying. What worked well was the dual narrative structure, fusing modern relationships with ancient. However, so much of this book didn't work. Three stars is pretty generous as I feel like any (gender)queer book should be celebrated, and I listened to the audiobook so imagine the illustrations must add a lot, but this left me just feeling unsatisfied.
This is the second Vivek Shraya book I've picked up and she's quickly becoming a new favourite author for me, as I'm once again bowled over by how stunning her writing is. This is a beautifully narrated story of gender, sexuality, and family, told between two perspectives; the first is a contemporary perspective where a young man examines his body and sexuality, and the second is a retelling of Hindu mythology.
Both perspectives are tender, moving, and at times very sad, but ultimately lead us to question human motives and society's inherent othering of queer people of colour. The way Shraya discusses the stigma and judgement surrounding being gay is incredibly powerful and the commentary on biphobia hit especially close to home.
This is such a unique, immersive tale and I'd highly recommend the audiobook, as the narration was excellent.
Content warnings for homophobia, biphobia, dicussions of racism, violence, blood, beheading, hallucinations.
Hmm. I was so intellectually invested in this beautiful illustrated story but had trouble getting into it emotionally. However, elements of She of the Mountains confused me and I was left feeling half in love, half disinterested. Some parts of this I followed and really enjoyed while others were a bit esoteric for me. I loved everything this had to say about non-binary identity and gender fluidity and enjoyed the portions showing a bisexual coming-of-age story surrounding love and fascination and the re-imagined Hindu creation story about Parvati, The Lord Shiva, and Ganesh. Other elements were less structured narratively, were more poetic. Hard to rate or review this but I encourage you to pick this up if it sounds interesting to you.
content warnings for: violence, murder, death of child, homophobia, biphobia and bi erasure.
That was disappointing. The much-hyped lyricism is very forced. The myth is misogynistic (and I can't tell if it comes from the author or the myth) and I never saw the point of it, even on an artistic level – at best it feels pretentious, at worst self-aggrandizing. The narrator is very miserable even in his adoration and love and joys. He both puts his love interest on a pedestal and tries to give her nuance with simplistic flaws and complaints, making it both obvious that they are meant to breakup before the end of the story and completely surprising and confusing when they do in one sentence right at the end of the book.
Look, I know this book never once describes the protagonist as a trans girl, and the text only ever uses "he" pronouns for the character. That said, and with the knowledge that Vivek Shreya is herself trans: holy shit this the most closeted trans girl book I've ever read in my life. And it's not a white girl book! For all that you never see the word "trans", and for all that I never actually spent any of my adult life closeted, this still captures the same feelings I once felt before I transitioned. AND the myth retellings also slap. Check this out! You will not be disappointed.
A lot of the prose didn't work for me -- too much telling, summarizing, distance. But I enjoyed the dual structure of the narrative, and things really open up near the end when the book abandons its dedication to straightforward narration of the main character's feelings and actions for a much stranger, more compelling style. It's also a very aesthetically pleasant object -- the typography and illustrations really come together in a very beautiful way.