Heaven

by Emerson Whitney

In the first few pages of Heaven, Emerson Whitney writes: “Really, I can’t explain myself without making a mess.” What follows is that mess—electrifying, gorgeous.

In arresting prose, Whitney writes of moving through homes around the country, of transness, and, at the book’s root, of their complex and often difficult relationship with their mother: their first window into understanding womanness and all that’s bound up in it. Whitney streaks this through with queer and gender theory, standing audaciously in the face of uncertainty, to ask: “if the ‘feminine’ thus far has only existed as a defective version of a masculine idea, then maybe there’s something living, like between the gap in the sidewalk, that is actual femininity, accessible to all.” Whitney stands in the gap, writes in the gap.

Heaven functions much like a hand-dipped candle, lowered patiently into theory and memory—a caught manta rays hanging aloft a dock, a mother checking her teeth in the mirror above the stove—that, taken together, thicken into an astounding, expansive examination of what makes us up. For fans of Eileen Myles or Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts, Whitney’s Heaven introduces an important new public intellectual.

Genres: Memoir, Queer, Nonfiction, LGBT, Poetry, Biography Memoir, Essays

Paperback

First published April 14, 2020

About the author

Emerson Whitney is the author of the poetry title Ghost Box (Timeless Infinite Light, 2014). Emerson teaches in the BFA creative writing program at Goddard College and is the Dana and David Dornsife Teaching Postdoctoral Fellow at the University of Southern California.

Reviews

[shiloh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ugly tears after finishing this book about, in part, gender, trauma, and mothers. Highly recommended.

[Herbie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm probably too hard on any book that touches on trans masc experience because I want these books to do so much. At the same time, I value each of them like precious objects. Here for instance I treasured the descriptions of the moments before and after top surgery, of the comments people would make toward them when they were shirtless in a Korean spa or on the beach; of their own appearance and awareness of their ambiguous presentation.

The narrator is an "in-between and running around" trans masc person; uses they/them pronouns.

Hearing Whitney refer to Eileen Myles with they/them and seeing the words in print, I came to realize that I don't want they/them used for me. Here was they/them, in lovely and considered sentences no less, referring to a renowned poet, and still I found the turn of the tongue awkward. I'd rather be a he/him, or to reclaim a slur, a he/she.

The line from here that's stayed with me more than any other is "I know the meaning of the word trans will change in my lifetime, it's inevitable. I'm waiting for the word to signify something I can't comprehend."

There's a bit of theory here, some gripping story there, some more queer and trans theory there. I liked some of the theoretical asides more than others. (More Butler, less Irigaray). The structure wasn't clear to me but I was still fairly compelled by all the parts. The lack of a sense of structure sort of made me read this in bits and pieces over the course of a month or more. At any given point, I didn't necessarily feel like I knew what I'd be opening the book to when I picked it up again. The writing's gutsy and poetic.

[Kellen · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5! I disliked the writing at first, but it grew on me! tw there is self harm. Overall, it made me nostalgic in a hard way. I especially liked the line: “I was sorry in a way that felt like falling asleep.”

[Liv Morris · Rating 5 out of 5]

A poetic reflection on what makes us up.

At first, I found myself a little lost as Whitney transitions quickly from personal micro stories, present-day reflections on those experiences, and insights from other thinkers. But now, I think that may have been intentional. Whitney writes, “I can’t explain myself without making a mess.” It was a mess for sure but a profound, engaging, and inspiring mess I didn’t want to end.

[Rebecca H.]

This is a perfect book for fans of Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts (in fact, Maggie Nelson blurbed this book). It’s also great for anyone who loves genre-bending nonfiction, books that challenge gender norms, and books that narrate the body in frank and open ways. Emerson Whitney writes about childhood struggles with poverty, complex family relationships, and coming to terms with being gender-nonconforming. Whitney’s portrayal of their relationship with their mother and grandmother are particularly nuanced and memorable. Mixed in with this personal material are philosophical discussions of gender, self, and identity, drawing on writers such as Judith Butler and Donna Haraway. Whitney weaves these various strands into a powerful, ground-breaking account of growing up and figuring out one’s relationship to oneself and the world.
https://bookriot.com/2020/04/25/april...

[Emma Strawbridge · Rating 4 out of 5]

really sensuous and tactile book, if that makes sense? whitney talked a lot about childhood memory being smells and something nebulous and i felt like that really held true for this book. at times i feel like we were a little all over the place but once i got going i thoroughly enjoyed this. makes me really appreciate how great my mom is :)

[Duffy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is an exquisite way of writing. I don’t think I’ve read anything similar. I love the way they shape sentences, cutting them in to phrases then putting them back together. Sometimes felt clunky with the academia, maybe I would’ve liked footnotes or something? Im going to think about this book for a long time.

[Alex]

Haunting. Devastating. Raw.

I hate all these words but can’t find others.

[Nadia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Have you ever made bread? I haven't. But I know a lot of people decided that was a thing to do while quarantined, so perhaps you have. If you have, and this coming analogy makes no sense, please understand it's because I have never made bread.

This book reads as though the author is kneading dough for what ends up being a surprisingly delicious homemade loaf of bread. It folds in on itself, the same ideas come back in little sentences here and there, and though you hadn't been focused in on that part of the narrative for a while, it's clearly part of the overall structure, and so you're not surprised to encounter it, just ready to see where it become relevant again.

When I reached the second part of the book (there are III parts), I exhaled for the first time since picking it up, not realizing that I'd been holding my breath through the first part, not realizing the tension building inside, not realizing the need for release. The pacing and style really helped to build that up, and ultimately let it go.

This isn't a coming out memoir. And it is. It is about gender and bodies and relationships and psychology, and most of all causality and whether it has any place in the previous mentioned subjects. It reads a little bit like stand-up that doesn't realize it's supposed to be funny. A bit like watching Hannah Gadsby. A bit like stepping outside of your body for a moment and wondering what it is, and why it is. A bit like spoken word, if it was murmured to you on public transportation.

My final thought is that (and this may be a spoiler of sorts, so skip this last paragraph if you'd rather, and leave it at the last one), I was really intrigued with the way Heaven is considered as born from regret. It is a construction of the possibility of better days, of better things, and the chance to leave behind those things which you'd rather not attribute to yourself or your life. That idea is really interesting to me, but one which the author doesn't spend too much time on.

[Lauren · Rating 5 out of 5]

Emerson Whitney traces intellectual and emotional research, writing, and observations on gender and bodies through their family history. I loved statements of theirs such as “This is the truth: I want femininity to be roomier. More enormous. Gender like a tub, not anybody else’s so much anymore. But maybe there’s no real escape.” “I always want to know what’s ‘natural’ about the ‘unnatural’ and all the problematics of that: messiness as perfect too.” Whitney is rigorous with their mind and soul. It’s book that asks how much of heredity is suggestion and how can anyone pinpoint the impact of nature or nurture when what you’re examining is a dynamic human being. In the end, isn’t it better to simply listen and exercise unconditional acceptance as well as love? It’s also a wrenching story about the generational links between mothers and daughters.

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

I expected not to like this as much as I did. I’m usually not into memoir as trauma porn nor memoir as applied critical theory analysis. There were moments where Heaven worried me by drifting near these points, but Whitney deftly pulls back, sometimes explicitly aware of these pitfalls. I also appreciated their oblique handling of their trans experience, vacillating between active, conscious decision making and more passively following their intuitions in a way that felt more authentic than a linear path to understanding one’s identity.

[Lizzie Green · Rating 5 out of 5]

Damn. Honestly kinda speechless after this. I appreciated the investigation of queerness - the idea of nature vs nurture vs some combo of both vs does it even matter. It’s something I think about often but have never found the resources to explore. I appreciated how the language challenged me. I was moved and left broken hearted and also hopeful. Gonna have to read this again sometime, one of those I know I could keep getting more out of.

[Yahaira · Rating 3 out of 5]

lots to think about on this one. unfortunately, I think I read this book at the wrong time for me.
beautiful imagery and language, but the concept of symbolic matricide and how our mother's form our selfhood hits a little too hard right now.

[dănuț]

"Mom’s love for me has always been the most painful part of my body, a stigmata kind of."

[Bailey Sperling · Rating 5 out of 5]

loved this, couldn’t put it down. similar feel to maggie nelson, memoir mixed with theory, it’s about gender trauma and mommy issues. would recommend

[Gabe Chazan · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful and carefully crafted book.

[Greg Mania · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve praised this book publicly in PAPER and in our forthcoming interview for BOMB magazine, and it’s no different on Goodreads. Emerson turns the coming-of-age angle inside out, examines selfhood in relation to her mother, adds a layer of theory, and delivers a memoir worthy of residing your memory long after you read it.

[Otis Clark · Rating 5 out of 5]

absolutely LOVED this book, easily one of my top reads ever.

[Henry Christopher · Rating 5 out of 5]

I decided to read this book as a follow-up to McSweeney's Queer Fiction issue. McSweeney's published this book, after all, and I trusted Dave Eggers' instinct for good prose. Also, it was incredibly advertised. I saw the cover, and Whitney's headshot, just about everywhere on social media. How could I resist?

The hype was justified. Whitney's prose style follows the same rich vein as Maggie Nelson's in Bluets--Heaven, then, isn't so much about the unfolding of a plotlike structure imposed over Whitney's life. Rather, Whitney presents their life as a series of scattered vignettes, mostly chronological, sometimes not, that offer some insight into their relationship with gender and family. It's organic, similar to a painting or a collage of familiar elements. I felt Whitney grasping to understand these fragments just as I grasped to understand them, to put them into some meaningful order and bring about self-love. Or, at the very least, self-acceptance.

I recommend this book to anyone, especially parents of queer folk, and queer folk oscillating between identities. I found it especially reassuring that nothing in this book about Whitney feels entirely decided per Whitney's relationship with assigned-at-birth femininity, and what it means to divide oneself from the mother figure.

[kell_xavi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am guilty of needing a body, a mother’s body or someone else’s. I am guilty of imagining what other people would want when I think about me… I feel guilty when I give myself over to me, whatever that is. (54)

I received an ARC of this book from McSweeney’s after I read (and very much enjoyed) Whitney’s poetry book, Ghost Box. I’ll write a more detailed review closer to the book’s publication date.

For now, I want to say that Whitney writes brilliantly, is pensively aware of the texture of moments. They describe their own history in a way that holds back on what wasn’t understood at the age when an event occurred, or isn’t remembered, or isn’t the focus; and yet, what they write gives everything important.

I am often resistant to memoir as a category, but I am fond of poetry (which does tell me that my thoughts on memoir are more categorical than substantial), and this is also poetry. It’s also theory and a letter to those who take up space oddly, who find themselves messy and confusing. Whitney records so many personal moments that become essential and public as their story intermingles with theory on gender, sexuality, childhood, and psychology.

Heaven is warm, assertive, honest, and intelligent. I highly recommend it.

[Oona Kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emerson Whitney’s memoir deepens an exploration of personal experience of childhood trauma, love, queerness and gender by including theory in this fragmented style akin to Maggie Nelson’s Argonauts and Bluets. What I really loved about this book is the tenderness and compassion of its author, looking back on unflattering experiences with a mother who struggled and didn’t always do right by the author. And yet there is such sweetness and perspective, such forgiveness that it’s irresistible to stay with all the difficulty and find some beauty in it. Whitney writes, “It is impossible to be a mother. I was a flame in the corner lighting up all of mom’s failures.”

Another thing that really resonated with me in Heaven was the meditation on the theme of illegibility/legibility around queerness and identity. Whitney’s exploration of these themes challenges the reader to question the relevance of category, especially when it comes to gender and sexuality. I loved Whitney’s refusal to be hemmed in and the idea of exploring outside of the bounds and being bold enough to be illegible or messy.

Looking forward to reaching more from Emerson Whitney in the future.

[Ezra · Rating 2 out of 5]

I can see how some might love this book but personally it’s not for me. It was a confusing and time consuming read. I got whiplash just trying to keep up with all the time skips, different formats and themes.

Maybe this is what Whitney was trying to covey? That trauma and pain doesn’t have a point and trauma makes things fuzzy.

I might have liked this book more if Whitney had a more concrete timeline and stuck with one or more themes but that’s not this book

[Lily · Rating 4 out of 5]

exceeded my expectations of reading another book that deals specifically with trans mascness, mothers and trauma etc, but found this surprisingly touching and engaging. meandering and vague in a lot of parts in a way that feels refreshingly more about asking questions rather than answering them.

[Rachel Hellman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Whitney did the same prose-and-theory-and-memoir-all-in-one in Heaven that Maggie Nelson does in Bluets, and I loved it for that. Really scratches a primal itch for me. I also loved Whitney's exploration of gender. They wove questions of the role of family and particularly motherhood into that equation in a way that didn't feel reductive or prescriptive, but rather exploratory and brave.

[Mason · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whitney approaches the messiness behind the "causality" of trauma and difference with gentleness, inviting the reader into their own process of disidentification.

[Laura Sackton · Rating 4 out of 5]

I loved this. There is so much in it, so many threads, and they don't all get wrapped up, they intersect in all different ways, it's a messy mix. I loved the unpredictability of it and all the ways Emerson lays things out but doesn't necessary explain them. You get to see their thought process, their thinking, their wrestling with things. It's a hard thing to pull of sometimes, and it is brilliantly done here. It's a book about gender and queerness and trauma and family and a million other things.

One particular thing I loved: they do something where they're basically using comma instead of semicolons. Threading two sentences together with commas. It happens over and over again and it shifted the meaning for me. I'm still thinking about this choice. It made for such an interesting reading experience. So many things about this book felt new.

[Derodidymus]

i won't rate this one because i feel like my rating wouldn't do it justice. my mind was on and off throughout the audiobook (which was narrated by the author -- something i always love). i even considered DNFing during the first part (difficult to get into it as audio format, i feel like it was too poetic and messy -- no clear timeline and theory mixed in with the memories and current reflections), but i was curious.
despite it being difficult to follow, i really liked the theory bits. at the end of the book, i still didn't get the full picture... (but it is most likely a me problem).

[Diana Arterian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heaven is an extended meditation on identity through the complications of the child-mother relationship, self-society. On a line-level is continually surprising in its methods of description (the smells -- so many smells!), while also slipping through different modes of engaging with the task at hand. Whitney brilliantly maintains gives the reader the feeling of being privy to an intimate conversation or confession, but also philosophical inquiry and art.

[Hannah Taylor · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whitney's book is a beautiful blend of academic research and insight on gender and personal narrative. As a doctoral student, this is the type of book I long to write

The in-depth look at how constructs of gender and sexuality play out in one person's life denies any notion of simplicity. Our identity impacts not only our view of self but how we view other relationships.

For lovers of Maggie Nelson, this is a go to.

[Liv Forster · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars

A beautiful and methodical intertwining of memoir and gender theory, exploring the side effect of strained relationships associated with self identification. I loved how the physical transformation that came with the author’s trans journey echoed their evolving emotional freedom, and how much trauma had been born from representations of gender binaries both in their mother and their own body. Highly recommend.