Named one of the Best Books of 2021 by Oprah Daily , Glamour, Shondaland , BuzzFeed , and more!
A hilarious and whip-smart collection of essays, offering an intimate look at bisexuality, gender, and, of course, sex. Perfect for fans of Lindy West, Samantha Irby, and Rebecca Solnit—and anyone who wants, and deserves, to be seen.
If Jen Winston knows one thing for sure, it’s that she’s bisexual. Or wait—maybe she isn’t? Actually, she definitely is. Unless…she’s not?
Jen’s provocative, laugh-out-loud debut takes us inside her journey of self-discovery, leading us through stories of a childhood “girl crush,” an onerous quest to have a threesome, and an enduring fear of being bad at sex. Greedy follows Jen’s attempts to make sense of herself as she explores the role of the male gaze, what it means to be “queer enough,” and how to overcome bi stereotypes when you’re the posterchild for all of greedy, slutty, and constantly confused.
With her clever voice and clear-eyed insight, Jen draws on personal experiences with sexism and biphobia to understand how we all can and must do better. She sheds light on the reasons women, queer people, and other marginalized groups tend to make ourselves smaller, provoking the What would happen if we suddenly stopped?
Greedy shows us that being bisexual is about so much more than who you’re sleeping with—it’s about finding stability in a state of flux and defining yourself on your own terms. This book inspires us to rethink the world as we know it, reminding us that Greedy was a superpower all along.
Jen Winston (she/they) is a writer, creative director, and bisexual. Jen runs a monthly newsletter called The Bi Monthly, and is the author of the essay collection, GREEDY: Notes From A Bisexual Who Wants Too Much.
Jen’s work bridges the intersection of sex, politics, and technology, and has been featured by the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post, CNN, and more.
Jen is passionate about unlearning and creating work that helps others do the same. She lives in Brooklyn with her partner, dogs, and iPhone.
A memoir in essays structured around the author's bisexuality and embracing rather than shamefully rejecting the stereotypes of being greedy, confused, slutty and indecisive. In theory I love this approach. In practice I don't have much in common with Winston and those experiences-- which hey, cool, the bi+ community is very diverse!
But I did struggle to emotionally connect with some pieces (except for one about sexual assault which I found quite powerful). The voice is very millenial, chatty, and Internet-speaky, in a way that felt familiar to me but also made the author's individual personality a bit opaque. That said, it's a super readable book, one that I picked up intending to just have a look and then realized "Oh I guess I'm reading this now."
There's a bit at the end about coming to a non-binary identity and using she/they pronouns. I was especially interested in hearing more about that journey, especially as it's compared to the flux and fluidity of bisexuality. But maybe that's their next book!
I'm glad I read this book. It's one of those that didn't always necessarily speak to me, but that I am grateful is out in the world and that I know will be important to a lot of bi+ folks. Fans of Gaby Dunn's work will like this, I think.
My favourite line was "It's like the gay and straight communities are our parents, and each thought the other was going to pick us up from school."
"Is bisexuality queer? In your head you know it is—another few years and you'll realize you're just as entitled to Chromatica Oreos as twinks are. But in your heart, you can't deny that bisexuality has never felt queer enough. It's never felt queer enough to talk about. It's never felt queer enough to take up space. It's never felt queer enough to lead you to community, or to show you who you are." (xix)
"Back then you thought of yourself as straight plus gay—an identity made of old ingredients rather than something all its own. The only thing you knew was that you didn't know for sure—another bisexual who couldn't 'pick a side.'" (xxi)
"Bi culture is everything. Which means bi culture is nothing. As annoying as this logic loop might be, it reflects exactly what it's like to be bisexual: to be told simultaneously that you are asking for too much and that you don't exist." (6)
"Gay and lesbian bars, safe havens for some, are rarely safe havens for bi people. But where does that leave us to go? It's like the gay and straight communities are our parents and each thought the other would pick us up from school. We're left sitting on the curb, moping with our lunch box, until we decide to walk home." (12)
"We became nightlife snobs (far and away the worse kind of snob—self-righteousness and ketamine make for a lethal combination), spending most of our time at warehouse parties so we could stay out after the bars closed." (79)
"By this point I knew for certain that I needed to label my sexuality—if I didn't explicitly name my queerness, it seemed too slippery, like a bar of soap that would fly out of my hands. The word 'bisexual' gave me something external to hold on to, an 'oh shit' handle I could grab as the earth shifted beneath my feet." (188)
"When I say Queer Love, I mean love that makes its own rules. Love that exists without borders and thrives without clean lines. Love that creates more space than it takes up." (244)
"In that moment you must see the future, because somehow you know that this word—their name—will be important. A lump forms in your throat, but in a good way—like you're at the top of a roller coaster ready to drop." (248)
I went into reading Greedy extremely optimistic as a queer person who identifies as bi or bi adjacent.
And there are some standout essays here: Knots, The Neon Sweater, the essay on Brinley.
Ultimately, however, this book reads like a 280 page Instagram feed or Buzzfeed article written by someone who falls between Florence Given and Lena Dunham. While the author strives for self-awareness for me personally it didn’t land rather sounded obtuse and obligatory/self righteous. Winston’s upper middle class background underpins its entirety, perhaps making it relatable for some but for me it felt alienating and a flaunting of privilege more than anything. As a whole, it felt like an intro to social justice for someone who’d never read any other sources or works. The continual referral to Munoz, Audre Lorde and others feels like a brief summary of brilliant minds; save your time and read those thinkers instead.
2 stars. Everyone has a voice to be heard, and some of Winston's writing is relatable, validating, and necessary to hear. As a cis, bisexual woman, I was excited to read this book, which is likely why I felt so disappointed when I finished it.
The formatting of the book, including unnecessary parentheses, footnotes, and other deviations after every couple of sentences, left me frustrated as a reader. This memoir is a great read for folks who enjoy Millennial/Gen-Z style writing. I personally found it to read like an extended Buzzfeed article with more pop media references than genuine thought.
I felt conflicted by the nature of the virtue signaling throughout the book, especially since most of the information on Black and brown queer and trans authors was relegated to footnotes, or squeezed in between forced humor. I don't think this conveyed the respect that Winston intended. As they state in the beginning of their memoir, if you find yourself thinking that you should be reading the works of BIPOC queer voices and other voices of color, you certainly should read those instead. While this memoir had a few standout quotes, the perspective centers a white, upper-middle class lifestyle despite claiming to do the opposite.
Nonetheless, I am happy that she accepted her identities and found a wonderful partner in Brinley. This book wasn't for me, but they deserved to tell their story, and hopefully the positive aspects of the book will connect more with other members of the bisexual community.
i physically cannot bring myself to finish this book. i was really looking forward to reading a memoir about bisexuality but im so disappointed at another case of white women doing white women things. the amount of overcompensation about being white was too much and as soon as I got to the chapter where she talks about how incredible and benevolent her white friend was for teaching her about racism, i needed to stop. So much time and many pages wasted to show that she was a Good White Woman Ally who ~gets it~, so icky to read. we get it you’re white and you feel guilty, let’s move on
As someone who identifies as bisexual, it was refreshing to hear another talk about the issues that arise dealing with both the hetero and queer communities. "Pick a side", "It's all about sex", "you're just greedy". Winston approaches the subject with more than a little humor, self observation, and stories that many of us can connect to.
hilarious, honest, unputdownable. like hanging out with your coolest and funniest friend. whether you identify as bi or not, you need to read this book. it’ll make you laugh, it’ll make you think, it’ll make you see everything around you just a little bit differently. thank you Jen Winston for this gift of a book!!
I wanted to like this so much more than I did. DNF halfway through.
Overall, this book tries too hard. The attempts at humor fell flat for me because a lot of it was just unrelatable, despite the fact that I'm around the same age, seemingly with similar interests, and grew up in the same area as the author. She seems to be aware of her privilege, yet doesn't understand how to relate to others. Her musings on social justice issues such as cisgenderism, racism, and ableism read as an amalgamated regurgitation of quotes of Black feminist scholars and disability justice activists without any critical thought into how these ideas impact the author and the world around her. The endless footnotes and parenthetical statements, that are apparently supposed to add context, are very distracting and mostly serve as a virtue signal for how cool and woke she is. Overall, I just didn't get any new or interesting thoughts from this.
This book was so refreshing and made me feel 10000% valid in my experiences as a bi woman. Jen is both hilarious and real at the same time. Absolutely recommend this to anyone who struggles with imposter syndrome and feeling like they’re “not queer enough”… this book will make you feel less alone.
Greedy is honest, fast-paced, and truly laugh-out-loud funny. Each essay feels more like a conversation with a friend as you get to know them better and better through silly anecdotes and tough traumas.
I connected to so much and felt so seen throughout this book even as each essay considered a new issue: desirability, consent, dating app culture, gender, girl crushes, etc. all tying back to bi culture and erasure. As a bi woman, it felt like a very validating read and helped me realize that it is OKAY to always question and grow and learn and unlearn.
Interesting formatting in some of the essays and footnotes made the whole experience just as visually interesting and I felt educated even as I laughed along to some of Winston’s cringe childhood moments that mirrored my own. This book also gave me a whole list of references to other works that I can't wait to check out!
I adored this book and I can't wait for more from Jen Winston!
Thank you so much to @atriabooks and @netgalley for my copies of this book!
I could not put this book down - it made me laugh, made me cry, and made me cringe so many times. Jen Winston’s writing is relatable and deeply thoughtful. While reading this, I even had the courage to come out as bisexual to my own mom. Her work is just that powerful. I wish I could wipe this book from my memory just to experience it for the first time again. I know I’ll be referring back to this text for years to come.
dnf @ around 65%. I had so many problems with this. I don't think I've ever been more disappointed to give a book two stars, but I also haven't disliked a book this much in a LONG time. some of the essays were really great and memorable, but they were absolutely few and far between. most of this book was chock-full of the most overt virtue signaling I have ever seen, self-deprecating comments about the author's privilege, and writing that sounded like a cringey instagram infographic had been turned into a book. the insertions of some social justice movements were incredibly inappropriate for the topics at hand, others were just misplaced.
the essays were all over the place and the author was just directly quoting other activists without any fresh takes on ANYTHING most of the time. I went into this book expecting a nuanced discussion about bisexuality, culture, stereotypes, and dating, and got literally everything but that. this book was also a victim of the "buzzfeed writing" phenomenon. the endless footnotes were so hard to keep up with and half the time didn't add anything meaningful, and the asterisks were so hard to find that half the time I would have no idea what the footnotes were referencing. a good third of the book was just the author's dating and sex history, which was... fine? overall, the whole voice of the book just felt disconnected and overused, the same buzzwords seen in every millennial article being used instead to talk about how privileged and woke the author is. other reviewers have mentioned the virtue signaling in this book, but it truly is overwhelming. the author spends half the book talking about how she can't speak on issues because she's privileged and the other half speaking on those issues.
there was one part that solidified the dnf-ing for me, when jen was talking about lesbians in media and said that femme lesbians "rely on heteronormativity," quoting another writer who said that they "reinforce the idea that lesbians are 'just like us', in other words, heterosexual." on the VERY next page jen says that there are "so many ways to be gay" as if she didn't just directly invalidate a way to be gay. I'm all for discussions of representation in media, especially within the lesbian community, but the context and wording of this part made me a TINY bit livid. I get the point of it, but the execution fell so flat. which was, actually, how I felt about the book as a whole.
I don't hate the idea of this book, and there were parts of it I really did like. I think telling queer stories is incredibly important. but I also think this is going to age terribly- not just because of the references to memes and the impersonal writing, but also just because of some of the takes. I'd be interested to read what jen writes next, but I'm not rushing to recommend this one to anybody. if it worked for you, that's amazing. this book and I just really did not click.
This book. Damn. So I had originally read Gabrielle Korn’s book earlier this year and after finishing that, found this book alongside it on a list of queer books coming out this year. So I waited for this one to be published, which meant I came in with pretty high expectations which was perhaps unfair to this book.
It doesn’t even matter in the end because it exceeded every expectation I could have had. I found myself on most pages. Reading it felt like finding parts of myself that I really like that I forgot were there. And then those pieces of myself were affirmed. What a gift!
Jen’s writing is smart and funny. Their voice is aware of how it came to be. She is unafraid to be messy-vulnerable. And I, a hot mess, ADHD, bisexual femme feel very seen.
TL;DR: down with binary choices, more bisexual stories, read this book.
I heard Jen doing an interview about the book on my way to work and instantly wanted to read this book. It was very open and honest, serious yet funny. I learned new terms and their meanings. I a new and different level of love and respect my LGBTQ friends. Thank you for sharing your truth with all of us.
Absolutely adored this book. Witty and poignant. I’m a weepy baby, so I frequently found myself tearing up. Everything I could want in a book about the nuances of one person’s experience with bisexuality.
Perfect for anyone who falls under the Bi+ umbrella, has questioned their sexuality, or wondered if it was “too late” for them to come out.
This book feels like curling up with a warm, hilarious, caring friend. And — just as some great friendships offer — this book also lands like a personal meditation, reflecting on the kinds of questions, challenges, and social dynamics that have surrounded my life since childhood and through adulthood.
I love how the author Jen Winston dances between playful and painful. In moments I felt like I was comfortably seated on a highly-entertaining ride through Jen's experiences and personal stories, only to realize after a bit that I'd been effortlessly transported right into the heart of some of the most complex and necessary questions of our time around the intersections of gender, sexuality, power, erotics, and liberation.
The writing in "Greedy" is fun and fluid, wounded and questioning, and rightfully seeking space for both – aka, this book is deeply bisexual. Highly recommend.
What an absolute delight to read. Jen has knocked it our of the park with this. I felt seen, but also challenged and brought along for the ride. I’m already sad it’s over and can’t wait for her next book!
Aggressively meh. While I enjoyed some of Winston’s stories and her refreshing honesty around her own ignorance (about, well, seemingly everything), I found the description and content of the book to be in direct conflict. Can one write “notes from a bisexual,” when 90% of the book is the author trying to convince the reader - and herself - that she’s bisexual? Winston seems to have decided early in life that she wants a queer identity (although, as she confusingly says several times, you don’t have to “be queer” to be “queer?”), and this book is actually about her struggling to obtain one - if only those pesky men would stop getting in the way! I had hoped for a book with a more sophisticated take on being bi - how we may code switch depending on the relationship, how we are viewed by others when we don’t stick to one “box/label,” how our sense of identity might morph over time… and this is decidedly not that.
Jen shares her story with thoughtfulness, humor, and a strong splash of millennialism. I loved it. And it helped me better understand my own journey as a bi, queer woman. This book adds an important POV and is a joy to read.
“Onstage you made a fool of yourself- you became a broken record, trying to check your ‘bi privilege’ by repeatedly insisting that you shouldn’t take up space. You did this ad nauseam, trying to de-center yourself by talking about yourself, ultimately making the conversation all about you…You’d hogged the mic to talk about how white cis women need to pass the mic.”
This passage in which Jen describes how she felt after speaking at a particular LGBT panel perfectly describes how I felt reading the entire book. She consistently downplays her right to take up space as a white woman, yet she wrote an entire book that she presumably wants people to buy and read. She repeatedly talks about the importance of listening to other marginalized voices, yet spends chapters detailing her (mundane) journey learning about various social issues, and in doing so makes the conversation about her.
I also grew tired and disinterested reading about her relationships and hookups with men. The book often felt less like a memoir and more like a really long explanation of her relationship history.
this isn’t going to be for everybody, but it absolutely was for me (you know when a book feels like it was kinda written…for you? yeah, that’s the sweet spot)
more thoughts coming soon, maybe, but don’t hold me to that
Sometimes a book comes along that makes you feel so seen it changes your life. One such book for me has been Greedy, which explores through well-researched and funny essays the experience of being bisexual — especially when you’re socialized as a woman. It articulated feelings I’ve had for years as I was coming into my own queerness, like, “[b]ut at least threesomes made me feel comfortable — queer hookups seemed less intimidating when a guy was there too. Being alone with a woman raised other questions: What if I didn’t like the sex — would that prove I was straight? Or what if I liked it too much, and realized I didn’t need men at all?”
Being bisexual challenges traditional notions of happily ever after, in that you are “refusing” to pick a “side.” The label sounds binary, but the meaning behind it and lived experience are quite the opposite. Bisexuals are often told by both gay and straight populations that they somehow aren’t real as a result, and Winston is here to help us change that and affirm our identity — all while resisting being put in yet another box.
3.5…. I have a lot of mixed feelings about this one.
I have a strong appreciation for a frank and honest narrative memoir even (maybe especially) when the person is telling disagreeable truths about themself. But I don’t exactly know if Jen achieves much resonance between the catchy title and the actual text of the book.
She mentions her inner conflict about her sexuality a bunch of times and then tells dozens upon dozens of sexual war stories related to her hookups with men and how they affected her development as a woman. There was honestly very little engagement of her queer identity and significantly more discussion about being female, her experience of sexuality as a teen and a woman, and how she is learning to better communicate with a partner. All of that was 85-90% of the book, and yet the title claims it as a discussion of bisexuality.
I am glad to have read it, but it read very much like the casually reflective confessional of someone with no boundaries who has done very little inner work.
I seriously don't think I've ever read such an engaging work of non-fiction. It literally felt like having a conversation with my friends outside of a gay bar we spontaneously dropped by, only to end up chain-smoking outside with a group of people we just met (one of them being a girl my friend had previously gone a date with but blew off) and guessing each other's zodiac signs (this did actually happen). I can honestly say right now that I don't think I've ever had an original experience in my life.