Sideshow Concessions is the first book from queer performer and scholar Lucas Crawford. A collection populated by the circus-like bodies and experiences of a narrator navigating rural pasts and urban presents, Sideshow Concessions is the unofficial story of someone who is both a bearded lady and the fattest man in the world. "Sideshow Confessions is an accessible glimpse at the absurd — a clever look at a trans narrative which explores its challenges without drowning in them... Crawford’s sense of humour is a breath of fresh air." — Broken Pencil “ Sideshow Concessions is fresh, honest, heartbreaking, and funny, with turns of phrase equally intelligent and moving.” —Karen Solie
I stumbled across this poet while looking for something completely different, was intrigued by a few titles, and decided grab his book from the library. Excellent random decision! This book ranks up there with my top choices in queer CanLit, it’s thoughtful, fun, and layered.
Explicitly recommending this to everyone to get ASAP and enjoy. Poetry with actual emotional stakes and humour!!
This book is so lovely and it has poems named after or perhaps in dedication pretty seminal queer theory and yet it also slips in genealogical musings on Rita Macneil (can you believe the first time I ever heard her sing was on trailer park boys?) and never patronizes.
The book loses a star only for being a little too good at doing what a lot of worse poetry does, that is, leans into form or sense or that moment of epiphany a little too tidily? Which is how one invites readers in (legibility, clarity), which isn't really what I look for as a reader? I'm a menace!
But the mastery it takes to make that poetic mode interesting and actually say something is present and that is great. It took a while for me to get thru this because I savoured it. And it made me hungry too. What a lovely gastro-confessional-queer-Atlantic prophetic tome (with good cover design to boot, which seems harder to find than it ought to be these days). Read this. Treat yourself please.
"When we learn to be amnesiacs, where will we be? / sitting cross-legged in moonshine. Beaming, / you'll recite the alphabet / backwards into my ear."