Panpocalypse

by Carley Moore

In COVID pandemic-era New York City, Orpheus manages to buy a bicycle just before they sell out across the city. She takes to the streets looking for Eurydice, the first woman she fell in love with, who also broke her heart. The city is largely closed and on lockdown, devoid of touch, connection, and community. But Orpheus hears of a mysterious underground bar Le Monocle, fashioned after the lesbian club of the same name in 1930s Paris.

Will Orpheus be able to find it? Will she ever be allowed to love again? Panpocalypse—first published as an online serial in spring of 2020—follows a lonely, disabled, poly hero in this novel about disease, decay, love, and revolution.

Genres: Queer, Fiction, Disability, LGBT, Audiobook, Contemporary, New York

189 pages, Unknown Binding

First published April 5, 2022

About the author

Carley Moore's books include: The Stalker Chronicles, a young adult novel; 16 Pills, an essay collection; The Not Wives, a novel; and Panpocalypse, a novel, which is forthcoming in March 2022. Carley is a queer, disabled, single, co-parenting mom. She lives in New York City and teaches at New York University. Follow her on Instagram: @fragmentedsky

Reviews

[CaseyTheCanadianLesbrarian · Rating 2 out of 5]

Probably should have DNFed this one. I didn't realize it was auto-fiction until I started reading it, which made my expectations and the actual book not match at all. Tbh, this felt mostly like reading someone's journal entries about being in NYC during the beginning of Covid, not fiction. There are later bits with some time travel and whatnot, but by that point I was too bored to care. Too bad because I was very interested in reading about a bike riding bi/pan poly disabled mom!

[Suzy · Rating 2 out of 5]

A meandering look at the way one disabled, pansexual, polyamorous white woman was affected by the pandemic, with some magical elements. Panpocalypse is valuable for its explorations of pain and the isolation of living alone during this time. However, she attempts to tackle other topics that she was not equipped to handle. You cannot write a book about early-pandemic NYC without talking about the 2020 BLM protests, but the author was not ready to interrogate her whiteness on a deeper level. It felt like she was presenting things picked up on social media, but not fully grasping them. Many of the quick mentions of Black people whom she meets in passing came across as odd and infantilizing. And her attempts to discuss deaths of Black and trans people don’t land like they were supposed to.

Since the first part of the book was initially serialized during summer 2020, she was writing each section soon before it got published. These snippets are fast moving, with fleeting thoughts on the issues that were dizzyingly surrounding us in those early pandemic days. There is a certain lack of polish which feels intentional, but does harm when it means quickly speeding past important topics, preventing needed reflection and revision.

Thanks Feminist Press for the ARC!

[Lynn Melnick · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was honored to blurb this tremendous book, and here's what I said: Here’s the sexy, sad, queer, disabled, time-bending romp through the bleak pandemic landscape that you’ve been waiting for! No one lays herself as bare on the page as Carley Moore, and Panpocalypse is her most naked work to date. Whoever you are, and wherever you need your bike to take you, this book will speak to the universal need for love, touch, and acceptance in the hardest of times.

[Amelia · Rating 4 out of 5]

A resonant meander, just like some of my very favorite Brooklyn pandemic bike rides. This book brought some brand new bike friends into my life.

[Gabriella]

I’m sad to DNF this one, but I gave it the halfway test and still wasn’t connecting to the story.

I really enjoyed the author’s first book, and thought they were great at capturing Occupy as a standstill moment for millennials and Gen Xers. I wanted to see Moore accomplish a similar feat about 2020, but this was just a very different sort of project.

I think the experimentation with queer and disabled literature that Moore is interested in showcasing with Panpocalypse is just not the sort of work I can easily latch onto. I struggle with autofiction and stream of consciousness work in general. As I learned earlier this year with Fish Tales, every time I think I’m not a plot-driven reader, I am quickly proven wrong!!!

I think some more patient readers might enjoy this, but I’ll be waiting for Moore’s next work.

[Kay Whiteley · Rating 2 out of 5]

CW: sexual assault, threat of rape, mention of institutionalization, police violence, racism

It was okay. I think, perhaps, I did the book a disservice by picking it up without reading the summary or knowing what I was getting myself into. I didn't even know there was a genre called autofiction until I researched the book partway through reading it. I will say, whether the narrator is Moore or a fictional person, they were a little insufferable. The parts describing the Black Lives Matter protests felt very much like bragging and saying "Hey look! I'm a White person that went to this!" The use of hashtags and "internet speak" (like TM) also made me cringe. I get it, you're hip. And the sex. So, so much mention of her pussy. I'm glad you're fucking during the apocalypse but I don't really care. The bragging about following COVID protocol and then ignoring it to hook up with people was also a little hypocritical for my taste, especially as someone who became disabled from getting COVID despite following COVID protocol to a T. Anyways.

The first part of the book, before the time travel, is really just boring. The chapters were unrelated and stream-of-consciousness, but it in the most uninteresting way. There were a lot of words but nothing really being said. The parts about Le Monacle, before the actual visit to the club, felt random and detached, like Moore realized she didn't build up to the event and was obligated to add a couple sentences so she didn't blindside the reader. The actual part where she goes to the club is, again, boring and confusing. I understand that Le Monacle was a fantasized safe haven from the pandemic but...why? Why was it written in like that? Who was Dolly and why was she there? Why did Moore create characters for this brief part of the book? It felt like Le Monacle was supposed to be a larger part of the whole story but instead it was ten pages locked away in mundane stream-of-consciousness writing. Again, maybe this is just a part of autofiction that I do not understand and therefore do not appreciate.

I actually enjoyed the last part of the book, which is unfortunate, since I only really liked about 30 pages. I liked hearing about her thoughts about her disability and how the pandemic showed the hypocrisy of our society around accommodations. I also enjoyed hearing the small parts about parenting through the pandemic. I just wish there was more. I would've liked to read about her disability, parenting with a disability, and her experiences before versus during the pandemic as a disabled person. I even would've liked to read about her co-parenting experiencing and finding queer community in her life. All of the parts that were actually interesting got a page or a short chapter and then... that was it. Time to focus on her sex life again.

That being said, I liked the writing. Moore's writing style was easy to read and, occasionally, humorous. I'm curious about her fiction and other writings. I just wish her subject matter was more interesting. I came into this book blind, so I can't really be disappointed, but it did feel like a whole lot of fluff and very little content (other than praising herself for going to BLM protests and wearing a mask like she's a revolutionary).

[Ryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a bit meandering and subtle as a narrative, but still pretty good and done in bite-sized-enough installations that my pandemic-wrought brain could actually focus on them long enough to digest.

[Philip Stover · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this when it was serialized. It's a wonderfully written observation of how the pandemic and identity collide for Moore. I loved each of the episodes on the episodes on the bike. Moore is a fantastic writer and her use of specificity makes the prose compelling and engaging.

[Niki.reads.rainbow · Rating 3 out of 5]

Huge thanks to Ingram Publisher Services for giving me a free copy of Panpocalypse in exchange for my honest review.

Panpocalypse is a serialized autofiction story about a disabled woman named Orpheus, and how Covid 19 changes her life.

The story shows what happened in 2020 in New York City - it focuses mainly on Covid, but a part of the book is also dedicated for BLM protests.

We follow Orpheus, who gets a bike to relearn riding it again, while she shows us, how the city is changing. We also follow her relationships, and her metal health.

The chapters are short so it was a really quick read, and as I don't live in US, it was also interesting to read about the protests.

I also like the feeling of loneliness, which is something that a lot of us probably felt during 2020.

This book was a bit out of my comfort zone, I don't read adult books that often, also this was my first autofiction ever.

Sex is a huge part of this book, and I personally didn't enjoy these parts that much. I also couldn't connect with the main character (maybe it's the age diference between us).

There were also few parts that didn't sit well with me, particulary the whole Tiny Tim is my avatar chapter (Like Tiny Tim, I am the sweetest cripple), "There's no such a thing as a good queer. Being queer is a failure.", "I begin to play doctor with a teenager boy who is my next-door neighbor. He's fourteen, and I'm seven."

I felt sometimes really uncomfortable, and while I'm glad I got to read a book that wasn't on my radar at all, I'm probably not the targeted audience, so I'm rating it 3*.

If it sounds like something you would enjoy, definitely give it a try.

[tessa s · Rating 4 out of 5]

Panpocalypse was hard to read because I have spent the past two years distancing myself from those first few months. Working to forget the fear I felt in the beginning. Yet, this novella captures the feelings I had never been brave enough to journal.

The serialized portions feel mostly unedited in a raw and honest way. This rawness gives way to theoretical musings on the loops in our lives.

As we delve further into the piece, it becomes clear this serialized format is a revolution against the traditional book process. This entire novel is writing back at the ableist book publishing system and capitalism. Both by how it is written, and the way Moore’s auto-fiction piece tackles queering and crippling time. By first posting in serialized segments then binding those together, she is working to make this inaccessible writing style fit into her world instead of forcing herself to fit a book reader's expectations.

I will not spoil anything, but the magical realism element of Panpocalypse highlighted the themes beautifully and was a beautiful reprieve from the horrors of the social distancing bubble reality.

The novel functions as a time capsule, for the fear and feelings we experienced in 2020. I appreciate it for those aspects, but it also feels like this novel spends so much time centering the white cis protagonist's experiences in protests that are not meant to be about herself. I am glad the author takes moments to acknowledge her own problems at the protests she attends in the novel as white peoples problems, because they are.

Panpocalypse is a written expression of queer and crip theory; and an honest look at the impact covid-19 has on the creation of community. It is a piece that refuses to be confined and moves towards open conclusions as opposed to a concise ending. I look forward to this book being published later this month, and for other folks in our community to read it. Thank you to edelweiss and the publisher for an advanced reader's copy!

[Denise Ky (ramblingoutloud) · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was good, but not really for me. I appreciate the entire story and the struggles, the friendships, the queerness, the family. It's a story of a life in the pandemic, about unfairness, about protests and needs that aren't being met. About privilege and rights, depression and happiness. About restrictions, both physical, mental and decided.

Hope Newhouse did a marvellous job on the narration and even though the rating isn't that high for me, I still recommend this book, because I know many will love it. I guess I'm just not the right person to read auto-fiction about every day life, but the summary spoke to me, so I tried it. Not a waste of time, at all :)

/ Denise

[bookishcharli · Rating 2 out of 5]

This one unfortunately wasn’t really for me, there were parts of it that left me feeling a bit unsure and uncomfortable while reading it. This is apparently “autofiction” which based off to this, I’m not a fan of. I don’t think I would pick up anything in this genre again.

Thank you to Ingram Publishing Services for sending me a copy of this book.

[Jess · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some of this was very solid, amazing to read, super fun, and some of it was confusingly meandering and felt out-of-context (NYC 2020 with only passing mentioned of BLM protests? and a few other nuggets that rang as oversights) - wanted to like it more than I did, but still a fun short read

[Cass · Rating 3 out of 5]

Eh. 2.5ish rounded up. If the audiobook wasn’t so short may have DNFd. It was a little all over the place in my opinion.

[Ron Ward · Rating 4 out of 5]

The queer disabled angst book I’ve been searching for!!

[ava! · Rating 1 out of 5]

i really don’t review books i’m reading for school but this one pissed me off soooo bad. never let white people forget that they’re white or they’re gonna write shit like this. using murdered Black people as accessories to emphasize your white suffering is maybe. evil. (the line thats like “and if THAT wasnt enough, now george floyd has been murdered”) also i’ve never read so much boring queer sex. Anyway.

[Satyros Brucato · Rating 4 out of 5]

I said, We are all very tired.
- Carley Moore, from Panpocalypse

Man, do I feel this book. A first-person, present-tense autofiction about a queer, disabled woman's struggles as the Covid pandemic hits, Panpocalypse began as a series of blog posts the author began when lockdowns began in her home town of New York City in 2020.

Reeling from a recent breakup and dealing with the impact of middle age on her lifelong health issues, Carley chronicles the inner and outer landscape of her shifting sense of reality in general and identity in particular. Eventually, she steps through a portal hand-in-hand with her healthier and more masculine aspect, witnessing both the horrors inflicted on women unfortunate enough to be queer, disabled, and outspoken enough to reveal both to the larger world around them, and also the safer and more fulfilled realm where people like her can simply be who they ARE, not who society and circumstance have forced them to be.

Returning to the shifting reality of the here-and-now, Carley accepts the messy realities of our mortal human state (and again, hers in particular) and refuses to let the weary alienation consume her. As she says, We are all very tired. Of pandemics. Of alienation. Of hatred, ignorance, and the fear that drives so many people to impose their view of "how the world is" on people who - for whatever reasons - do not fit into that world. We're tired of being tired all the time. Yet since this is who we are, where we are, when we are, we'll all make of it what we can. As Carley does when she finishes the book and sends it to her editors... and, by extension, to us as well.

It's a damn good book. Not an easy one to read, emotionally, and occasionally (though only mildly) surreal by the standards of mainstream fiction, much less by common expectations about autofiction. Moore refuses to "stay in her lane" with regards to conventional narrative, and I've seen the book being review-bombed on several platforms as "bad writing" when in fact it's just DIFFERENT writing. (I suspect Moore's openness about queerness, gender, Covid, disability, race, and Trumpism sparked at least a bit of said review-bombing, too.) Personally, this book hit me right in the Feels, which is what a book of any kind ideally SHOULD do unless it's some form of technical instruction... or maybe even then.

Recommended, with the caveat that it's unapologetically personal and occasionally messes with your head.

[Courtney · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this so much. When I picked it up I thought it was going to be more of a quirky fun story and this lady riding her bike around the city and having fun dating mishaps. I was in no way expecting this deep reflective feminist, queer, disability story about loneliness and depression and healing and trauma. Which I mean in retrospect I guess I should have. It was so thoughtful, absolutely loved the language and felt so so connected to Carley like we were friends and i was reading her intimate journal ( which i was) auto fiction is a genre i haven't heard before but i loved this. The medical realism of the Paris thing was so so cool and medical and beautiful. And the bike being a plot device for movement, like literally that was genius. This again just brought me back to that weird nostalgic feeling of COVID and being in lock down and creating social bubbles with non traditional nuclear family. I so love stories of non traditional families and people finding love and intimacy in non patriarchal ways. Like in 7 husbands, city of girls, the other book i can't think of. Something about that is just so beautiful and hip and enticing to me, especially the historical element. Like i loved her exploration of non straight white cis communities , like both the BLM protests of everyone coming together protecting and caring for each other and also the queer community and their parties and just love and care for one another. When main stream america doesn't give af about you, these communities are so strong and safe and fierce. I feel like i have a much better understanding of pan now and how difficult it is to feel judged for not being queer enough if you're in a het relationship. And her added challenge of coming out so late. And her exploration and experience with disability and chronic illness and pain was so insightful and bold. This is such fantastic disability and queer theory literature and i hope it blows up and is discussed in wggs programs and everyone meets and falls in love with Carley. But i also kinda like the secret intimate world i feel like i discovered, and don't want to share it

[EC · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I block the ghost of the future. It’s time, I tell myself. What is the future anyway during these days of panpocalypse? There is only the present tense.”

PANPOCALYPSE weird little queer gem of a book, a work of serialized autofiction set during the early COVID-19 pandemic in New York City. The narrator is a woman named Orpheus, a queer, poly, disabled writer and teacher, trying to survive in an era where isolation and death are common and awareness of state and bureaucratic violence are heightened. Seeking connection, she eventually finds her way to a queer bar that doubles as a portal to other times and places.

This is such a profound book. Moore captures those early feelings many of us had in the spring and summer of 2020, as the shock settled in and the daily traumas of the pandemic took their toll, especially on more vulnerable communities. I loved how the story explores sexuality: queer sex and disabled sex and poly relationships and bisexual quandaries, leaning into the mess and the intersections. It was so refreshing to see older queers and queers with kids dating and hooking up - so much of queer media feels focused on young, non-parenting folks.

The disability representation hits in the gut. There’s the hard stuff - the battle for accommodations, the daily negotiating of what tasks are feasible and at what cost, the painful memories of childhood procedures and failed diagnoses - and also the beautiful, powerful, and magical aspects of being disabled too. The whole book is imbued with a creative ambiguity, a bending of conventions that is so unique; it feels like it could only have come from a disabled author. I didn’t find much in terms of traditional plot or character development, but I don’t think that’s what Moore is aiming for.

It’s a strange, meandering, delightful, and impactful novel. Thanks to The Feminist Press for the review copy!

Content warnings: suicidal ideation, chronic pain, hospitalization, ableism, medical trauma, child sexual abuse, threat of sexual assault, policy brutality

[Jessica Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

This one was … so hard … for me. I really struggle with essay collections or short stories, and I guess serialized autofiction as this was? I kept this book out from the library for so long that my account was suspended.

Autofiction is also new to me, and this autofiction contained elements of magical realism (another genre I struggle with).

But this is definitely queer literature! The publisher, Feminist Press, and specifically their Amethyst Editions, writes how they promote queer stories that “complicate the conversation” beyond a coming out narrative. This was definitely a complicated book for me.

This was more a story about loneliness, about moving through able-bodied spaces as a disabled person, about touch as an act of self-care. It was about polyamory and the many ways one can love another. It is less a novel about other aspects of the 2020, like BLM and healthcare and politics.

Will we ever want to revisit that time of fear and isolation, to read about quarantining from our children and loved ones? I’m not there yet. But this book is an important record of that time.

Spoiling the ending for you here, because it sweetly tied up this book, even as it talks of untying:
If able-bodied narratives have movement—Aristotelian arcs, male climaxes and releases, dénouement….then what does a disabled narrative have?
Rests, naps, wanderings, stillness, witnessing, waiting, rigidity, pain, and action—but on their own terms. I bought Lana to force myself to move. The bicycle is a plot device.
Dénouement is French for "untie." To untie is so much messier than to resolve, to seek resolution. It defies conclusion and ending completely. To untie a bow on a present is to release a gift. To untie a shoe is to let a foot out. To loosen a necktie is to let its wearer breathe.
So many strictures in this country and in abled-narrative forms.
I am not making any pretty bows. I am only untying them.

[Anna]

So I picked this one up upon the recommendation of multiple people that I trust with book reviews and I am sad that I don't feel as excited about it as they did.

Don't get me wrong, this book is engaging and interesting and I liked a lot of the elements, but I don't think that I understand what autofiction is. I don't do very well with mixed genres and I don't think that I realized that's what this was going to be. I'm not sure what it is about it but my brain can't really comprehend the mixture of like almost a memoir of sorts mixed with time travel or science fiction elements. This is very much a ME issue and not something wrong with the book but I do think that if you're someone who doesn't do well with across genres maybe skip this one.

The story is about a disabled white pansexual woman during the pandemic who gets a bike and rides in New York City. She chronicles her adventures of sorts and the longing and fear and everything that went along with covid during 2020 and is still happening.

I think I was thrown off a bit off by how much of this book was about her on the search for physical contact and sex. As an asexual introvert who would never leave their house if given the option, this was one of those things that I really had to sit with and I think there were some moments that it really took me out of the story.

I'm sad that this is kind of a middle of the road book for me but I do feel like I would recommend it to very specific people and obviously it's one that a lot of people love so please don't let my mediocre experience influence it to you.

[Lisa Eckstein · Rating 4 out of 5]

PANPOCALYPSE is a mix of journal entries charting the pandemic lockdown and fiction about traveling through portals to other worlds, all from a disabled queer perspective. Orpheus is single and starved for company and touch after New York City shuts down. She buys a bicycle so she can spend some of her lonely days riding around the city, though cycling is sometimes difficult because of a disability that causes pain and poor balance. While Orpheus tries stop pining for her ex-girlfriend, Eurydice, she pursues admission to the mysterious club Le Monocle, which promises a safe place for queer touch. Eventually she finds her way to the club and meets someone who takes her on a farther, stranger journey.

I enjoyed this unusual book and the whole range of content it contains. Sometimes the recounting of the early pandemic captured experiences familiar to me, other times it provided a look inside a very different life, and I appreciated getting to read both. The author/character (the line is deliberately blurred) writes with insight about a variety of injustices she encounters personally or sees occurring in the wider world. When the story moves into the speculative realm, it's a fun interlude, but just as thoughtfully done.

[finn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Didn't enjoy this book. The premise seemed interesting, a queer disabled polyamorous person living on NYC during the pandemic, getting around by bike. That being said, her lack of compliance with covid guidelines put a sour taste in my mouth. Especially for a book on disability! She'll talk about the mass death and tents full of bodies and then be like "anyway I am lonely I am going to break covid guidelines because of it" ugh. Also the talk about BLM felt kind of self-centered and disingenuous. A person that thinks they care about marginalized communities but puts their needs (and wants) above all else. This review is getting kind of mean. I did like the serialized nature, and the pace was enjoyable.

[Jessica Ranard]

a novel that took me too long to realize was a novel - panpocalypse is about a disabled queerdo bike riding their way through the city during the lockdown while navigating disability, touch, lack of touch, being a parent, attraction, germ bubbles, the uprisings, and a past relationship with another queerdo, Eurydice. What can I say other than I felt like I was biking while reading this book, whizzing through every complicated emotion that disease brings up while living in a diseased world. And also, there is a time traveling plot point where Orpheus travels to a queer bar in France and yes, that is when I realized that this wasn’t a memoir (it’s called having a brain like mine, oopsie!!!). Ps this book is great for the vignette lovers, because our brains can only handle so much.

[Andromeda Robins · Rating 3 out of 5]

As someone accepting and coming into a queer identity during the height of COVID, this book gave me something to relate to page after page. All of Moore's stories feel grounded and relatable despite the specifics and setting being a bit foreign and abstract to me. If you want a very thought provoking story about queer life and musings about what a poly identity looks like in the heteronormative world of 2024, you'll probably enjoy this book. All that said, I feel like I got what I wanted out of this. I doubt I'll return to this book for anything but some of the clever one-liners. I listened to the audiobook performance by Hope Newhouse, and she was excellent.

[Karen · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is not a novel, it is the musings of someone bored, depressed, lonely, and frustrated during the covid lockdown. I think we all had those feelings, but reasonable people respected the reasons for quarantining. Not this author - who got angry at a friend for not enlarging her pod to include her, found her way to a secret quarantine-breaking club, had several hookups with strangers, and argued that her daughter should travel from her father's house to the author's on her normal custody schedule despite having an exposure. Just a totally selfish person. Not to mention the lack of plot and unnecessary descriptions of sex.

[Zemora · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really loved a lot of the writing here, it was sweet and funny and original. And I liked how this archived early pandemic feels. Not that there was one universal experience, but I found this resonated with me a lot and captured different feelings that were so specific to early 2020. I took off one star because there was something just a tiny bit annoying about it… the time travel plot jump part was confusing and there’s something about a queer on a bike that sort of feels like a trope that makes me kind of want to roll my eyes, but I actually loved it so much anyway.

[Matt Longabucco · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this novel! It first came to life as a serialized response to the pandemic as it was unfolding, and that radical act of not-knowing carries through in its candor, freshness, humor, and incisiveness. The narrator is alive to the city and the present and then, ultimately, to the past that haunts and informs the world we know. How can we survive, grow, love, repair, celebrate, rebel? This reads like a manifesto for touch, joy, justice, for queer and disabled realities that are represented with so much richness in these pages.

[Eric "Wally" · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hello New York, hello world, hello me and Carley. I was looking for a quest taken during the pandemic, and I got a trip of a lifetime. Inside the raw and real feelings that rose during those/these times Carley Moore shines a light as to the way forward. Ms. Moore takes down our backward world without batting an eyelash because she braves the world on so many fronts. This book is hot and funny too. I'm loving it with every passing day that my yearning for connection only grows. I had a wonderful revelatory experience inside the covers. I hope you do too.

[August Golden · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some of it was great. Most of it was meh. Some of it was awful. Reminded me of so many middle aged white bisexual women I have known and worked with (and not in a good way). A lot of queer angst, especially around being queer enough, that probably fits better on a 14 year old’s Tumblr than in a novel. Those parts and the trans + BLM discussions were tough to get through because they felt rather tone deaf and centered the narrator and her own (white, cis) feelings. Also: please stop with the hashtags in books. Oh. My. God.