The Nerves is set in an imaginary world where our sense memories tell us who we are. The Nerves subverts the literary approach to sexuality by treating the erotic not as a site of anxiety but of reverie. Psychedelic, attentive, cinematic and hot, this book writes toward sensitivity and ecstasy. Exploring touch as healing abandon, The Nerves is charged with desire, devotion, and creative fantasy. Through a series of joyful encounters, Lena Suksi reminds us that pleasure can be abundant, nuanced and that it can heal. Engaging in a queer erotics of language, Suksi’s debut is a bundle of wet atmospheres, speaking to faith in touch.
Lee Suksi is the author of The Nerves (Metatron, 2020), the recipient of a Lambda Literary Award for Best LGBTQ Erotica. Their work appears or will be appearing in Secret Sex (Dundurn, 2024) The Capilano Review, The Brooklyn Review, Peach Mag, Public Parking and more. They are a horoscope columnist in Toronto.
It was pretty good! Generally refuse to touch Metatron at this point, but every few years I find something in-person while traveling and am tempted to purchase.
Subject to a few of the usual enduring Metatron tics: •editing too light (TFB is pretty good in a more erotic space, so I’m not sure why it feels like no hard/necessary choices were made for lazier/selfish writing moments that cropped up not infrequently in the prose) •none of the pieces are very long, which is fine I guess but also sometimes it cheapens the experience (just as it can cheapen sex); the antipathy to sustained meditations with the press really boggles the mind. •the endings are a mix of satisfying just-so literary maneuvers (which I don’t love but can’t really knock from a craft perspective) versus endings which are (abstracted to) nonsense, endings that are reaching for something that is a bit grander than the brisk story preceding it qualifies, etcetera.
I don’t know if the note on the end about Covid really works either, though with the bar so low, I’m glad for any text to acknowledge what we’re going thru at all. I think stories that acknowledged that fear and that enforced gap between our roaming, erotic pre-covid selves would have been extremely cool material to cover, especially as the book was finished at a time where Suski was obviously thinking about it.
Anyhow, very picky critiques here, which is what a very good book deserves. Certainly looking fwd to what L.S. does next.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Sexy, full of bodily emotions! I read it while I was thinking, "I need to get back to my body." This book literally did that for me with the detailed explanation of physical emotions!
I had been anticipating this book, but found myself disliking it more than I enjoyed it. Ratings are arbitrary, this just wasn't the book for me. I liked the gender neutrality of the characters and the premise, but the prose/poetry of it all didn't hit; it takes me out and makes it intangible.
“Then somebody in their whole being, beyond touch, explodes me, a heightening of the senses that sugar, drugs, and cold waterfalls can't match. That maybe only fear can match. But I do want to believe we can protect each other.”
The Nerves is an anthology of touchable experiences that are so familiar and warm, they might as well be your own. Every person is a creature of comfort in some way, and I love the written experience of becoming “real” through touch. Like becoming a solid state wherever your nerves come alive to tell you that you are a physical thing. The ambiguity, or line, between need and machine-like acceptance, is blurred in almost each experience. So what is the difference between impulse and routine? Is there a proper way to do anything? Well, we know there is no proper way to have sex, but there are so many steps and hidden rules. They aren’t official, but expected. How do we rule something that is so raw with feeling and aches with shame? How do you find balance? I enjoy the end of this book a lot. Pleasure is shame, but it’s also hot and personal. It is vulnerability hiding connection. It is yours.
“I am grateful for fantasy and memory equally: for the possibility of wrapping yourself, of remembering being wrapped, of letting love speak through an idea of a stranger, of the fantasy made alive by a friend's detail, and the warmth of your own hands.”
This book may be small, but its impact on me as a reader is mighty. One of my very favorite things about THE NERVES is its center around transnormativity. They/them pronouns are the default for each character regardless of their names or bodies. Getting to immerse myself within a world where gender-neutrality is the norm was an absolute joy and eye-opener. I actually think THE NERVES would be great reading for a women & gender studies course, so the class could discuss how using non-gendered pronouns for every character within a book subverts society, relationships, social expectations, and even capitalism (to take it a step further). This collection certainly challenged me to dig deep, while also being an enjoyable and engaging read.
I also love the erotic components of THE NERVES. It’s sensual in a way that queers sex and intimacy. Each chapter (or very short story) centers around individuals who are intimate with one another, but not quite in a romantic sense. The sex is striking and queer with no sugar-coating. Overall, reading THE NERVES and watching relationships between the characters unfold was an absolute privilege. Thank you so much to Metatron Press for my gifted copy!
No pronouns in this book, yuhuuuu! everyone and everything was gender neutral. I loved that. It was weird. It was strange. It was special. It was different. At the same time, I think the experimental style made it complicated, and I’m not sure I was the intended audience.
There was a lot of sex (explicit, detailed, and ever-present) and I’m not sure how I felt about that. Some chapters were incredibly tender and intimate, which I really appreciated, but others left me uncomfortable. Maybe that’s part of what this book was meant to do: push boundaries and make the reader sit with discomfort.
Overall, it was a unique reading experience. Not always enjoyable, but definitely memorable.