This is one of those rare books that give you access to the innermost thoughts and feelings of the author. I was struck by the willingness and determination of the author to open up to the reader, own up to her failures and weaknesses as well as her strengths and desires.
The book is written in the first person singular. This is Carolin Emcke talking to us -- to me -- about her childhood, her love of music, her shifting desires, the suicide of her friend Daniel; about her thoughts on the Catholic Church, German society and the class system in the 70s and 80s, the struggles of LGBTQ people for visibility, political recognition, for the right to live.
The narrative develops at the interstices between public and private. It is a memoir but also an essay articulated in the form of questions --and there are lots of questions here!-- that grow organically from the author's life experiences and choices, esp. her choice to live as a "half-ripe fig", i.e. as she explains, a teenager that is neither a girl nor a "manable" woman (terms that occur in tbe Babylonian Talmud). The author opts for "half-ripe" with all the connotations this suggests: a person who refuses to enter the "either-or" frame of mind. In most major religious systems, Emcke tells us, there are rituals that mark the transition from childhood to adulthood. These rituals -which signify the arrival of sexual maturity- at the same time serve to fix desire once and for all.
"Religious and non religious societies agree in regarding the transition into adulthood not as a process or development, but a clearly delineated moment. [...] But what if coming of age and puberty don't coincide? What if they are put of sync with each other? And what if, instead of discovering our sexuality only once, during puberty, we discover it again later -- and then again after that?(p. 37)
These questions will not be new to those with an interest in queer theory. The strength of the book is how Emcke weaves together the personal and the political, the memoir and the essay. She talks of her friend Daniel who took his own life just before completing secondary school. Daniel is a focal point of the book, not because the author knows so much about him but precisely because she knows so little. A popular and well-liked kid, Daniel grows into an awkward adolescent gradually earning the taunts of his classmates. It's difficult to pinpoint the reasons why; he's still athletic and not effeminate. Yet something in him is out of sync with the overall atmosphere of the school. Carolin and another classmate are tasked with protecting and looking after him, but whilst happy to do so, they can't become friends to him either. Later, much later, the author finds out that Daniel had neen seen with a man, and speculates whether it was his frustrated homosexuality that led to his tragic end. The author also relates another incident that reveals the repressive climate at school where an otherwise popular boy is picked on and cruelly taunted by a bunch of pupils simply for displaying behaviour that was deemed not macho enough. The book is worth reading for this scene alone -- how Emcke harrowingly describes the feeling of getting trapped, beaten, taunted and humiliated.
There are a lot of themes in the book that had an impact on me -- the author's love of music is one. Emcke's description of her music teacher and his methods made me wish I had had such a teacher myself! The theme of music is interwovem into the narrative as Emcke says that music gave her the sensibility and conceptual tools to understand her shifting desire. "Modulation" in harmony is a term that denotes the transition from one key to another. Perhaps this compositional technique of major-minor tonality is also the best way to describe what was happening back then -- what Daniel, Tom [another gay friend] and I were going through, but also what countless others, homosexual or not, still experience today: that desire can develop and even change, that various forms of desire can exist in parallel, that one person can, at different times, feel quite different forms of lust and longing, some of which are fulfilled, while others will only ever be hinted at." (p. 201)
LGBTQ people who grew up in the 70s and 80s will see something of themselves in this book. The touching descriptions of nascent sexuality at a time that was gradually liberalising but still sexually repressive will bring back memories. Younger people will see some of their own struggles reflected in the book's narrative even though the cultural markers will differ. Overall, I thought this was a great great book revealing genuine power of feeling, and as such I recommend it to everyone.
I am grateful to netgalley and textpublishing for providing me a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.