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Currency
Crewelwork
Poised between his lush introversion and the brutal realm of his every day, a young artist considers the price of precarity in this powerful short story by Justin Torres, the author of We the Animals.
A promising illustrator moves into adulthood contemplating all that he’s had to do for money—from the mundane to the grueling to the sexual. He also reflects on everything that has slipped away, including a boyfriend, close acquaintances, success, and allure. But sketch by sketch, he sometimes feels the enormity of all that is possible.
Justin Torres’s Crewelwork is part of Currency, a compounding collection of stories about wealth, class, competition, and collapse. If time is money, deposit here with interest. Read or listen in a single sitting.
A promising illustrator moves into adulthood contemplating all that he’s had to do for money—from the mundane to the grueling to the sexual. He also reflects on everything that has slipped away, including a boyfriend, close acquaintances, success, and allure. But sketch by sketch, he sometimes feels the enormity of all that is possible.
Justin Torres’s Crewelwork is part of Currency, a compounding collection of stories about wealth, class, competition, and collapse. If time is money, deposit here with interest. Read or listen in a single sitting.
43 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 25, 2021
142 people are currently reading
236 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 75 reviews
March 12, 2021
At long last, a follow-up to the astonishing We the Animals! That short novella was life-changing and the absolute best thing I could have read in my early twenties. Not a bad movie either. This long-awaited follow-up has even fewer pages—it's basically a short story—but Torres proves once again that size isn't everything.
The narrative showcases a struggling young man in the early '00s. He's got drug problems, drinking problems, you name it. Others' generosity supplements a meager income earned from odd jobs and sexual favors. He's something of an artist, so “normal” work isn’t in his blood. His infectious personality assures that he's never alone for long, however, and he always gets by.
Structurally, each mini segment has a "work" themed title. The prose is abrasive but perfect. Torres is one of many talents who graduated from the legendary Iowa Writers' Workshop and clearly he paid attention in class. Every sequence is minimally constructed yet picture perfect. Character and drama are ideally balanced. The pacing is exact, leaving no time for boredom.
While the technical aspects are a triumph, it's also fair to say that the actual storyline leaves something to be desired. The plot is captivating, but that's thanks largely to a kind of self-aware poverty porn. All the grungy grittiness is fun to watch, but then it's over and you wonder what's the point. This effect is similar to Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed, which I suspect was Torres' source material. While Ehrenreich takes a journalist approach to showing the hard truths of poverty, Torres turns to his imagination—and perhaps some autobiography.
Both storytellers succeed in shining a light on dark spaces largely unseen by the middle and upper class. Even if that's the only purpose, it's a worthy one. In the end, Crewelwork is one of the best hours I’ve ever spent. Great work, Justin. We want more!
The narrative showcases a struggling young man in the early '00s. He's got drug problems, drinking problems, you name it. Others' generosity supplements a meager income earned from odd jobs and sexual favors. He's something of an artist, so “normal” work isn’t in his blood. His infectious personality assures that he's never alone for long, however, and he always gets by.
Structurally, each mini segment has a "work" themed title. The prose is abrasive but perfect. Torres is one of many talents who graduated from the legendary Iowa Writers' Workshop and clearly he paid attention in class. Every sequence is minimally constructed yet picture perfect. Character and drama are ideally balanced. The pacing is exact, leaving no time for boredom.
While the technical aspects are a triumph, it's also fair to say that the actual storyline leaves something to be desired. The plot is captivating, but that's thanks largely to a kind of self-aware poverty porn. All the grungy grittiness is fun to watch, but then it's over and you wonder what's the point. This effect is similar to Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel and Dimed, which I suspect was Torres' source material. While Ehrenreich takes a journalist approach to showing the hard truths of poverty, Torres turns to his imagination—and perhaps some autobiography.
Both storytellers succeed in shining a light on dark spaces largely unseen by the middle and upper class. Even if that's the only purpose, it's a worthy one. In the end, Crewelwork is one of the best hours I’ve ever spent. Great work, Justin. We want more!
April 8, 2021
I liked it. It took me some time to get back to this one because the story itself was so raw and full of pain and wonder at the same time. I would definitely like to read Torres other works sometime.
"Crewelwork" follows an unnamed narrator who we find out ends up ruining one of the best things going for him at the time (his relationship with a young adult man named Liam) and how he bounces from New York to Arizona and back again. We follow his up and downs as a gay man that feels adrift in the world and doesn't know what to do or who he should be. What ties him the story together is his illustrations/art that he does of people who have impacted his life in some way.
"Crewelwork" follows an unnamed narrator who we find out ends up ruining one of the best things going for him at the time (his relationship with a young adult man named Liam) and how he bounces from New York to Arizona and back again. We follow his up and downs as a gay man that feels adrift in the world and doesn't know what to do or who he should be. What ties him the story together is his illustrations/art that he does of people who have impacted his life in some way.
March 30, 2021
Well written short fiction told in the first person. It starts out seemingly as a M/M romance. Then it progresses with the protagonist learning to look at himself realistically, instead of through the eyes of others. This transition takes place as he travels, meets people, makes friends and works a variety of jobs.
December 24, 2021
This is a multi-layered and expertly crafted short story that medidates on the theme of "work", especially artistic work. It's beautifully narrated by Wilson Cruz and will stay with me for a long time. I csn already tell that I will eye-read it eventually, too.
February 28, 2021
A moving story, beautifully read by Wilson Cruz, this tale is matter of fact and honest. I think the subject matter wouldn't work as well if it was treated any other way. A glimpse of how people get through life the best they can and make mistakes and make the best of it.
Filled with hope, especially the final part.
Filled with hope, especially the final part.
February 28, 2021
A good read, beautifully read by Wilson Cruz for the audiobook. The story was very interesting for how the author began and changed over time. A short read, but good.
March 11, 2021
This one knocked me over, and is my favorite of the Currency collection.
I hope to write a full review shortly.
I hope to write a full review shortly.
March 5, 2026
Torres, comprendo gli sprazzi di vita, queste finestrelle che apri e ci getti nel tuo vissuto con micro capitoli, però miseriaccia qui potevi un po' più dilungarti e raccontarci di Liam, della rottura, di come ha scoperto della prostituzione, dei primi incontri, del cowboy, se hai più sentito Esther a cui devi molto, se hai più rivisto i tuoi fratelli, tua madre, se quando hai acquisito un po' di fama qualcuno si è riconosciuto nelle storie che hai raccontato, nei ritratti, se Liam ti ha più ricontattato...
Che amaro in bocca, però, che dire, se questa è stata la tua vita ti sei riscattato. Sei uscito dalla fossa, tuo padre non ti ha seppellito con la sua inerzia.
Il titolo, “crewelwork”, rimanda al ricamo tradizionale con lana (crewel embroidery), un lavoro artigianale minuzioso, paziente e spesso associato al femminile/domestico, ma qui usato metaforicamente per evocare il lavoro del corpo, il “ricamo” della propria vita attraverso gesti ripetitivi, dolorosi e commercializzati.
Lavapiatti, commesso di libreria, sesso a pagamento con uomini ricchi: ogni lavoro è una transazione in cui il tempo e la carne vengono venduti. Il narratore mente a Liam (“Ti serve denaro?” → “Solo per mangiare… e la droga”) non solo per nascondere la verità, ma perché ammettere il sesso a pagamento significherebbe ammettere che il suo corpo vale più di quanto Liam possa dargli emotivamente o economicamente.
Il secondo capitolo approfondisce il tema della depressione, del ritiro interiore e della regressione come meccanismi di coping ereditati e trasformati. Il narratore descrive il suo "falso sé" sentimentale e autocommiserante, il piacere inconscio di ritirarsi dal mondo e strisciare in una "grotta oscura nella mente", dove rivive ricordi dolorosi. Liam, con affetto giocoso, lo deride chiamandolo "cute little bunny trapped in a big bad hole" e lo stuzzica con la parodia infantile "Did da widdle bunny fall down da bunny hole?", trasformando un momento di catatonia in un gioco tenero ma rivelatore.
Questa immagine della tana del coniglio / grotta / buco non è casuale.
In "We, the animals" il padre ama ripete questa frase:
Nel capitolo intitolato "Trench", il padre (Paps) inizia a scavare senza motivo apparente un'enorme buca nel giardino sul retro. I tre fratelli osservano terrorizzati e affascinati: Joel sussurra che è una tomba, forse per Ma, forse per uno di loro. Paps scava fino allo sfinimento, crolla ansimante nella terra e mormora: "I’ll never get out of here" ("Non uscirò mai da qui"). La famiglia intera finisce per sdraiarsi nella fossa – i ragazzi come soldati caduti – in un rituale ambiguo di catarsi, violenza repressa e intimità distruttiva. La buca simboleggia la trappola familiare, la povertà ciclica, il razzismo interiorizzato, l'impossibilità di fuga dalla classe e dalla rabbia ereditata. Paps incarna l'impossibilità di "uscire" da quel ciclo: è intrappolato nella sua stessa fossa, e la famiglia vi si cala volontariamente, attratta dal suo richiamo oscuro.
In Crewelwork, il narratore adulto riprende esattamente quel gesto paterno, ma lo interiorizza e lo sessualizza/queerizza. La "grotta oscura" non è più una buca fisica scavata dal padre nel giardino, ma uno spazio mentale dove il narratore si ritira periodicamente: un luogo di ricordo traumatico, autocommiserazione e piacere masochistico. Il "coniglietto carino" di Liam è una versione affettuosa e giocosa della stessa immagine – il narratore è ancora il bambino che cade nella tana, ma ora è intrappolato non dalla pala del padre, bensì dalle sue stesse ferite psichiche (internamenti, overdose, abbandono familiare, precarietà queer).
Il padre gli ha insegnato (o meglio, gli ha impresso nel corpo e nella psiche) questa attrazione per il buco, per il ritiro, per il collasso. In We the Animals, Paps scava la fossa per sfogare frustrazione e disperazione ("Never gonna escape this"); in Crewelwork, il figlio adulto scava dentro se stesso la stessa fossa, ma la abita da solo, catatonico, per "ricordare le cose". È un'eredità traumatica: il ritiro non è solo depressione, ma un rifugio appreso, un modo per sopravvivere al caos familiare diventando il proprio carnefice. Liam, con il suo "psychically sound" background da Maine, rappresenta l'opposto – stabile, dorato, capace di prendersi cura – ma non può estrarre il narratore dalla tana: può solo scherzarci sopra, addomesticarla in un gioco infantile.
Il narratore, guardando indietro, ride "proprio insieme a Liam" di quel "che casino": c'è una tenerezza nuova, un perdono verso il giovane sé che strisciava nella grotta. Ma il riso è amaro: riconosce che la fossa del padre non è mai stata riempita, solo trasferita dentro di lui. Da animale selvatico in branco (We the Animals) a coniglietto solitario nella tana mentale (Crewelwork), il percorso è di solitudine crescente, ma anche di maggiore consapevolezza.
Torres non offre redenzione: solo la consapevolezza che certi buchi si ereditano, si interiorizzano e si ridipingono – con affetto, con sesso, con musica, con prostituzione – ma non si riempiono mai del tutto.
Un altro parallelismo che ho amato è stato quello sui gattini. Certo, per coglierli dovreste leggere prima We, the animals e subito dopo fiondarvi qui.
Questi appunti sono più per me che per chi legge (ma chi, mica sono influencer), quindi non mi prendo la briga di metter spoiler.
Nel capitolo "Labor" di Crewelwork ricompaiono i gattini, simbolismo già apparso in 'We, the animals'. Questo capitolo introduce un momento di resistenza al richiamo della cura e della tenerezza, proprio quando il narratore si trova di fronte a una scena che evoca vulnerabilità estrema: il cowboy che si occupa dei gattini orfani, nutrendoli con il contagocce e stimolandoli manualmente per farli evacuare, sussurrando «Get it all out» / «Fallo uscire tutto». Il narratore sente il “pull of the familiar, that care” (il richiamo del familiare, quella cura), ma resiste: non guarda la sua vita, non guarda ciò che ha perso (Liam, l’amore, la stabilità), non sa affrontare il lutto.
Invece osserva il cowboy arrossire, riconosce la sua dolcezza, e resta sulla soglia – testimone passivo, non partecipante.
La scena è carica di simbolismo animale e di cura materna/paterna sostitutiva: i gattini sono neonati fragili, privi della madre morta nel parto, che dipendono da un intervento umano goffo ma necessario per sopravvivere. Il cowboy incarna una mascolinità tenera, non violenta, che contrasta con la durezza che il narratore si attribuisce (“io troppo duro”, ripresa dal padre che non ha mai visto piangere). Lui, a differenza del cowboy, sceglie di non “entrare” nella cura: si appoggia allo stipite, guarda, ma non agisce. È un rifiuto consapevole del ruolo di “salvatore” o di “nutritore”, forse perché sa che cedere significherebbe riaprire la ferita del lutto per Liam.
Questo capitolo riecheggia la scena dei gattini (o cuccioli di gatto randagi) nel capitolo “The Night I Am Made” (o sezione “Midnight” / Capitolo 18), verso la fine del romanzo. I tre fratelli, ormai adolescenti, ubriachi dopo aver bevuto liquore, vagano nella neve e trovano una gatta randagia con una cucciolata sotto un cassonetto. Comprano un cartone di latte in un distributore e lo mettono fuori per i gattini. Manny ride forte osservando il “runt” (il più piccolo, il debole) della cucciolata, chiedendosi ad alta voce quanto tempo passerà prima che gli altri lo attacchino e lo uccidano o si dimentichino della loro fratellanza per scoparlo. Il narratore, che si identifica profondamente con il “runt” (il più piccolo, il diverso, il queer in nuce della famiglia), si offende: vede in quella risata la predestinazione della sua esclusione dal branco. La scena scatena il litigio furioso con i fratelli, in cui il narratore li insulta apertamente per la prima volta, rompendo il “we” del titolo. È un momento di presa di coscienza della diversità e dell’inevitabile separazione: il runt non sopravvive nel branco selvaggio.
In Crewelwork, anni dopo, il narratore adulto incontra un’altra cucciolata di gattini orfani, ma stavolta non è parte di un branco: è solo, in Arizona, in fuga da New York e da se stesso. Il cowboy (maschio solitario, gentile) sostituisce il branco di fratelli e la madre gatta assente. Invece di ridere crudelmente del debole come faceva Manny, il cowboy lo salva con cura paziente e sussurri. Il narratore riconosce questa dolcezza, ma non vi partecipa: resiste al richiamo perché sa che cedere significherebbe ammettere la propria vulnerabilità, il proprio status di “runt” sopravvissuto ma ferito.
I gattini non sono salvati dal narratore perché lui stesso non si sente salvabile – o perché salvare significherebbe ammettere di aver bisogno di salvezza.
Nasciamo tutti ciechi (incapaci di vedere chiaramente il futuro o se stessi) e affamati (di cure, cibo, amore, futuro).
Che amaro in bocca, però, che dire, se questa è stata la tua vita ti sei riscattato. Sei uscito dalla fossa, tuo padre non ti ha seppellito con la sua inerzia.
Il titolo, “crewelwork”, rimanda al ricamo tradizionale con lana (crewel embroidery), un lavoro artigianale minuzioso, paziente e spesso associato al femminile/domestico, ma qui usato metaforicamente per evocare il lavoro del corpo, il “ricamo” della propria vita attraverso gesti ripetitivi, dolorosi e commercializzati.
Lavapiatti, commesso di libreria, sesso a pagamento con uomini ricchi: ogni lavoro è una transazione in cui il tempo e la carne vengono venduti. Il narratore mente a Liam (“Ti serve denaro?” → “Solo per mangiare… e la droga”) non solo per nascondere la verità, ma perché ammettere il sesso a pagamento significherebbe ammettere che il suo corpo vale più di quanto Liam possa dargli emotivamente o economicamente.
I used to be too embarrassed to admit this, but back then I sometimes felt Liam and I, both, ought to feel sorry for me, alone. How easily I could slip into a false self, sentimental and self-pitying, even as I knew better, and it was with a certain unconscious pleasure that I periodically retreated from the world, crawled back to a dark cave in my mind, and remembered things.
Il secondo capitolo approfondisce il tema della depressione, del ritiro interiore e della regressione come meccanismi di coping ereditati e trasformati. Il narratore descrive il suo "falso sé" sentimentale e autocommiserante, il piacere inconscio di ritirarsi dal mondo e strisciare in una "grotta oscura nella mente", dove rivive ricordi dolorosi. Liam, con affetto giocoso, lo deride chiamandolo "cute little bunny trapped in a big bad hole" e lo stuzzica con la parodia infantile "Did da widdle bunny fall down da bunny hole?", trasformando un momento di catatonia in un gioco tenero ma rivelatore.
Questa immagine della tana del coniglio / grotta / buco non è casuale.
In "We, the animals" il padre ama ripete questa frase:
"Easier to sink than swim." He loved saying that.
Nel capitolo intitolato "Trench", il padre (Paps) inizia a scavare senza motivo apparente un'enorme buca nel giardino sul retro. I tre fratelli osservano terrorizzati e affascinati: Joel sussurra che è una tomba, forse per Ma, forse per uno di loro. Paps scava fino allo sfinimento, crolla ansimante nella terra e mormora: "I’ll never get out of here" ("Non uscirò mai da qui"). La famiglia intera finisce per sdraiarsi nella fossa – i ragazzi come soldati caduti – in un rituale ambiguo di catarsi, violenza repressa e intimità distruttiva. La buca simboleggia la trappola familiare, la povertà ciclica, il razzismo interiorizzato, l'impossibilità di fuga dalla classe e dalla rabbia ereditata. Paps incarna l'impossibilità di "uscire" da quel ciclo: è intrappolato nella sua stessa fossa, e la famiglia vi si cala volontariamente, attratta dal suo richiamo oscuro.
In Crewelwork, il narratore adulto riprende esattamente quel gesto paterno, ma lo interiorizza e lo sessualizza/queerizza. La "grotta oscura" non è più una buca fisica scavata dal padre nel giardino, ma uno spazio mentale dove il narratore si ritira periodicamente: un luogo di ricordo traumatico, autocommiserazione e piacere masochistico. Il "coniglietto carino" di Liam è una versione affettuosa e giocosa della stessa immagine – il narratore è ancora il bambino che cade nella tana, ma ora è intrappolato non dalla pala del padre, bensì dalle sue stesse ferite psichiche (internamenti, overdose, abbandono familiare, precarietà queer).
Il padre gli ha insegnato (o meglio, gli ha impresso nel corpo e nella psiche) questa attrazione per il buco, per il ritiro, per il collasso. In We the Animals, Paps scava la fossa per sfogare frustrazione e disperazione ("Never gonna escape this"); in Crewelwork, il figlio adulto scava dentro se stesso la stessa fossa, ma la abita da solo, catatonico, per "ricordare le cose". È un'eredità traumatica: il ritiro non è solo depressione, ma un rifugio appreso, un modo per sopravvivere al caos familiare diventando il proprio carnefice. Liam, con il suo "psychically sound" background da Maine, rappresenta l'opposto – stabile, dorato, capace di prendersi cura – ma non può estrarre il narratore dalla tana: può solo scherzarci sopra, addomesticarla in un gioco infantile.
Il narratore, guardando indietro, ride "proprio insieme a Liam" di quel "che casino": c'è una tenerezza nuova, un perdono verso il giovane sé che strisciava nella grotta. Ma il riso è amaro: riconosce che la fossa del padre non è mai stata riempita, solo trasferita dentro di lui. Da animale selvatico in branco (We the Animals) a coniglietto solitario nella tana mentale (Crewelwork), il percorso è di solitudine crescente, ma anche di maggiore consapevolezza.
Torres non offre redenzione: solo la consapevolezza che certi buchi si ereditano, si interiorizzano e si ridipingono – con affetto, con sesso, con musica, con prostituzione – ma non si riempiono mai del tutto.
Un altro parallelismo che ho amato è stato quello sui gattini. Certo, per coglierli dovreste leggere prima We, the animals e subito dopo fiondarvi qui.
Questi appunti sono più per me che per chi legge (ma chi, mica sono influencer), quindi non mi prendo la briga di metter spoiler.
Nel capitolo "Labor" di Crewelwork ricompaiono i gattini, simbolismo già apparso in 'We, the animals'. Questo capitolo introduce un momento di resistenza al richiamo della cura e della tenerezza, proprio quando il narratore si trova di fronte a una scena che evoca vulnerabilità estrema: il cowboy che si occupa dei gattini orfani, nutrendoli con il contagocce e stimolandoli manualmente per farli evacuare, sussurrando «Get it all out» / «Fallo uscire tutto». Il narratore sente il “pull of the familiar, that care” (il richiamo del familiare, quella cura), ma resiste: non guarda la sua vita, non guarda ciò che ha perso (Liam, l’amore, la stabilità), non sa affrontare il lutto.
Invece osserva il cowboy arrossire, riconosce la sua dolcezza, e resta sulla soglia – testimone passivo, non partecipante.
La scena è carica di simbolismo animale e di cura materna/paterna sostitutiva: i gattini sono neonati fragili, privi della madre morta nel parto, che dipendono da un intervento umano goffo ma necessario per sopravvivere. Il cowboy incarna una mascolinità tenera, non violenta, che contrasta con la durezza che il narratore si attribuisce (“io troppo duro”, ripresa dal padre che non ha mai visto piangere). Lui, a differenza del cowboy, sceglie di non “entrare” nella cura: si appoggia allo stipite, guarda, ma non agisce. È un rifiuto consapevole del ruolo di “salvatore” o di “nutritore”, forse perché sa che cedere significherebbe riaprire la ferita del lutto per Liam.
Questo capitolo riecheggia la scena dei gattini (o cuccioli di gatto randagi) nel capitolo “The Night I Am Made” (o sezione “Midnight” / Capitolo 18), verso la fine del romanzo. I tre fratelli, ormai adolescenti, ubriachi dopo aver bevuto liquore, vagano nella neve e trovano una gatta randagia con una cucciolata sotto un cassonetto. Comprano un cartone di latte in un distributore e lo mettono fuori per i gattini. Manny ride forte osservando il “runt” (il più piccolo, il debole) della cucciolata, chiedendosi ad alta voce quanto tempo passerà prima che gli altri lo attacchino e lo uccidano o si dimentichino della loro fratellanza per scoparlo. Il narratore, che si identifica profondamente con il “runt” (il più piccolo, il diverso, il queer in nuce della famiglia), si offende: vede in quella risata la predestinazione della sua esclusione dal branco. La scena scatena il litigio furioso con i fratelli, in cui il narratore li insulta apertamente per la prima volta, rompendo il “we” del titolo. È un momento di presa di coscienza della diversità e dell’inevitabile separazione: il runt non sopravvive nel branco selvaggio.
In Crewelwork, anni dopo, il narratore adulto incontra un’altra cucciolata di gattini orfani, ma stavolta non è parte di un branco: è solo, in Arizona, in fuga da New York e da se stesso. Il cowboy (maschio solitario, gentile) sostituisce il branco di fratelli e la madre gatta assente. Invece di ridere crudelmente del debole come faceva Manny, il cowboy lo salva con cura paziente e sussurri. Il narratore riconosce questa dolcezza, ma non vi partecipa: resiste al richiamo perché sa che cedere significherebbe ammettere la propria vulnerabilità, il proprio status di “runt” sopravvissuto ma ferito.
I gattini non sono salvati dal narratore perché lui stesso non si sente salvabile – o perché salvare significherebbe ammettere di aver bisogno di salvezza.
And when the cowboy told me all kittens were born blind, and hungry, I thought of my two older brothers, who both had done a year, or less, of community college, and then, like me, dropped out, one was now a janitor, the other a rent-a-cop. I thought of my girlfriends, back home, scratching out a living as servers in brew pubs, and raising kids, and how they soothed the wounds of work in the bars, or in prayer, and so I shut tight my eyes and kept my mouth open, and I hardly dared look at the life I expected.
Nasciamo tutti ciechi (incapaci di vedere chiaramente il futuro o se stessi) e affamati (di cure, cibo, amore, futuro).
November 13, 2022
not for me.
this felt disconnected and disjointed even for a short story and it didn’t do or tell or show me anything that i could say: okay that’s why this story should be read.
this felt disconnected and disjointed even for a short story and it didn’t do or tell or show me anything that i could say: okay that’s why this story should be read.
October 31, 2021
I wasn't sure where this one was going, but the prose are beautiful and the protagonist's journey is surprising. Going deep into the emotional world and moments that shaped this man's life, Torres demonstrates what can bind people together, tear them apart, and the cumulative effects of these experiences.
A fresh voice grounding the character very much in the present. Very interested in the introduction of a character that sounds very much like the author Barbara Ehrenreich (Nickel and Dimed) and the realizations that encounter brings. Waves a caution flag of keeping our presumptions in check.
Questions of worth and reciprocity. Gritty and lovely.
A fresh voice grounding the character very much in the present. Very interested in the introduction of a character that sounds very much like the author Barbara Ehrenreich (Nickel and Dimed) and the realizations that encounter brings. Waves a caution flag of keeping our presumptions in check.
Questions of worth and reciprocity. Gritty and lovely.
April 8, 2023
this book is dark if you’ve only ever read children’s books.
June 17, 2021
Two young guys, they're a couple, but one is secretly prostituting himself. He's our main character and we go back through his life and the events that have brought him to the place he's at currently.
There's a lot about chosen family, art, life choices (are they really choices if you have no other choice?) but overall this one wasn't enjoyable for me, unfortunately.
Still, the beauty of a collection like this is that they're so short that you can give them a go yourself and see if you feel any differently.
There's a lot about chosen family, art, life choices (are they really choices if you have no other choice?) but overall this one wasn't enjoyable for me, unfortunately.
Still, the beauty of a collection like this is that they're so short that you can give them a go yourself and see if you feel any differently.
December 5, 2024
Real Life
This is the story of a young Hispanic man who started out with a difficult life and by the end was doing well.
His life is hard and the story is brash and open. The things he does to make a living is hard to listen to at times. Other parts sound like people you might know. The writing was good, but I didn’t enjoy it, and that is a requirement most of the time to make it a five star. This was a four.
This is the story of a young Hispanic man who started out with a difficult life and by the end was doing well.
His life is hard and the story is brash and open. The things he does to make a living is hard to listen to at times. Other parts sound like people you might know. The writing was good, but I didn’t enjoy it, and that is a requirement most of the time to make it a five star. This was a four.
March 11, 2021
A gifted writer
Some people have this gift where they can say whatever they want and make it sound beautiful even when there's nothing worthy to tell or when a character is nothing more than an asshole. Just like in here
Some people have this gift where they can say whatever they want and make it sound beautiful even when there's nothing worthy to tell or when a character is nothing more than an asshole. Just like in here
February 26, 2021
Ok but I found myself lost somewhere in the middle losing the point of the story which didn’t grab me as much as the other stories in the Currency series.
March 11, 2021
Wonderful way of using words, shitty and selfcenter MC. I don't feel sorry for this character I don't think he has something worthy to tell either. Cynism at its Best
March 17, 2021
Not the best
I always feel bad when I've put in the effort to try a new author and end up wondering what I just read.
I always feel bad when I've put in the effort to try a new author and end up wondering what I just read.
May 4, 2021
I didn’t much care for this one. The main character was soulless and self-centered, and the story went nowhere. The writing wasn’t bad.
April 13, 2021
There are 8 short stories in the Amazon Original collection titled Currency. Friends, trends, and dividends - a compounding collection of stories about wealth, class, competition, and collapse.
#6 of 8. The best of the bunch thus far. It's Justin Torres, so am not surprised that I really liked this story of an artist finding his people and his voice. The writing is really good, the setting gritty, the privilege, or lack thereof, evident.
I listened to this on audio, which was well narrated by Wilson Cruz.
#6 of 8. The best of the bunch thus far. It's Justin Torres, so am not surprised that I really liked this story of an artist finding his people and his voice. The writing is really good, the setting gritty, the privilege, or lack thereof, evident.
I listened to this on audio, which was well narrated by Wilson Cruz.
September 11, 2023
I really loved this - not for everyone, I'm sure, but it pressed all of my buttons, and I'll be looking out for more by the author.
September 23, 2023
3.5
I feel like this story dealt with some interesting themes but its one of those books that thinks itself profound but all you can do afterwards is think "ok, now what?"
I feel like this story dealt with some interesting themes but its one of those books that thinks itself profound but all you can do afterwards is think "ok, now what?"
May 9, 2022
A now successful artist reflects back on the misadventures that led him to his current position. He laments the loss of his relationship with Liam, recollects the differences between living in Arizona versus New York, discusses the various ways he made money over his life, and recalls how he got his first big break into the art world.
The writing is okay. The tone and point of view seems consistent which helps given the fragmented narrative. There is an almost poetic ebb and flow to the first-person thoughts. Our selfish and listless unnamed protagonist isn’t the most likable individual. This isn’t helped by the distance from emotions throughout the piece. He says he is sorry to have lost loves, exploited people, or spent his life creating angry art about emptiness—but we don’t really see that in his actions or hear about it in his thoughts. He is never passionate about his art or himself. While it is easy to admit that his drinking, prostitution, drug addiction, mental instability, and mooching where not all active choices, it is hard to decide where to draw the lines surrounding those issues. At points he even admits that some of the gritty portrayal of sex and poverty is exploitative. The ending is hopeful about the character’s progression, but a bit hollow.
The writing is okay. The tone and point of view seems consistent which helps given the fragmented narrative. There is an almost poetic ebb and flow to the first-person thoughts. Our selfish and listless unnamed protagonist isn’t the most likable individual. This isn’t helped by the distance from emotions throughout the piece. He says he is sorry to have lost loves, exploited people, or spent his life creating angry art about emptiness—but we don’t really see that in his actions or hear about it in his thoughts. He is never passionate about his art or himself. While it is easy to admit that his drinking, prostitution, drug addiction, mental instability, and mooching where not all active choices, it is hard to decide where to draw the lines surrounding those issues. At points he even admits that some of the gritty portrayal of sex and poverty is exploitative. The ending is hopeful about the character’s progression, but a bit hollow.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 28, 2021
Crewelwork was probably one of my least favorite stories within the Currency collection. It's very raw and full of emotion with short 1 or 2 page chapters. It's almost poetic with a stream of consciousness style. It's written in a way that the main character is looking back on his life with regret, evaluating the choices he has made, and thinking about missed opportunities. Art is the focus...every character is creating art in some fashion. I wasn't quite sure where the story was going and the chapters were so short that just when I thought the story was heading somewhere, it ends and the next chapter begins.
Part of The Currency Collection, short stories that explore wealth, class, competition, and collapse.
Part of The Currency Collection, short stories that explore wealth, class, competition, and collapse.
April 2, 2021
An amazing short story with excellent narration .
June 22, 2021
Just very confusing
December 1, 2023
Earlier this year I read Justin Torres' first novel We the Animals and quite liked it, so I figured I'd check out this novella he wrote. I am feeling less enthusiastic about this one.
The story, narrated in the first person, is about a queer Latinx painter and sometime sex worker who paints people's portraits and spends his time mooching off of everyone he comes into contact with before he moves on from them until he lucks out into fame and admiration.
I don't love when stories are told in micro-chapters, which I find annoying, so already this was gonna be a hard one for me to like. The issue I have with such short chapters is that they block any level of character development or world building and only focus on facts and details, which are, to me, always the least interesting parts of the reading experience. I felt as though all the characters were mere sketches, and the way the story is told made its protagonist feel shallow, superficial, selfish, and incredibly hollow. And it's not like the story is interesting enough to sustain such a one dimensional protagonist, making it all unfortunately fall apart and amount to not very much in the end.
The story, narrated in the first person, is about a queer Latinx painter and sometime sex worker who paints people's portraits and spends his time mooching off of everyone he comes into contact with before he moves on from them until he lucks out into fame and admiration.
I don't love when stories are told in micro-chapters, which I find annoying, so already this was gonna be a hard one for me to like. The issue I have with such short chapters is that they block any level of character development or world building and only focus on facts and details, which are, to me, always the least interesting parts of the reading experience. I felt as though all the characters were mere sketches, and the way the story is told made its protagonist feel shallow, superficial, selfish, and incredibly hollow. And it's not like the story is interesting enough to sustain such a one dimensional protagonist, making it all unfortunately fall apart and amount to not very much in the end.
June 14, 2021
Justin Torres and Wilson Cruz deliver the best story of the bunch in "Crewelwork". While this story is more fragmented than the others, it works as an almost string-of-consciousness like confession thanks to the performance of Cruz. Hopefully you're loving Cruz now on Star Trek, but maybe you know him best as Rickie Vasquez from My So Called Life?! Cruz has been providing authentic and nuanced performances for almost 30 years, and he continues to do so while giving voice and breathing life into a young artist finding himself in the world. Of course, all of the work didn't come from Cruz alone. Justin Torres created a deep and honest look at what it takes to be an artist in America. He does not shy away from discrimination, poverty, and hatred. He is candid about relationships, love, and sex work. He gives wry commentary on "model minority" expectations. I have not read any of his other work, but now I most certainly will.
September 24, 2023
A very quick read.
As the story itself says, "these were simply the facts of my life back then." It's a stark journey from new adult to grown, in theory functioning, adult. The parts are short and concise, sticking firmly to the author's idea for each topic. It was interesting and I really appreciate when these Kindle Reading Challenges push me to try something new for an achievement. Wilson Cruz narrates the audiobook, which is available to listen to along with the ebook on Kindle Unlimited and I absolutely loved, wholeheartedly recommend listening to this because his voice brings a life and emotion to the words that I'd lacking in just the text. The 3 star rating is just for the written story. My Audible rating for the audiobook will be 5 stars. (Yes, this is greatly due to the fact that I have adored Wilson since My So-Called Life.)
As the story itself says, "these were simply the facts of my life back then." It's a stark journey from new adult to grown, in theory functioning, adult. The parts are short and concise, sticking firmly to the author's idea for each topic. It was interesting and I really appreciate when these Kindle Reading Challenges push me to try something new for an achievement. Wilson Cruz narrates the audiobook, which is available to listen to along with the ebook on Kindle Unlimited and I absolutely loved, wholeheartedly recommend listening to this because his voice brings a life and emotion to the words that I'd lacking in just the text. The 3 star rating is just for the written story. My Audible rating for the audiobook will be 5 stars. (Yes, this is greatly due to the fact that I have adored Wilson since My So-Called Life.)
April 3, 2021
What would you give to pursue your passion
I enjoyed this one, the evolution of an artist. This felt very much like a smaller section of a larger book. We learned a lot about the main character and the people he lived with and loved. Locations were very descriptive. Tales of work he did for basic survival was lacked emotion. Not sure how he could experience sex work or manual labor and not include how it made him feel. The loss of relationships, family and friends was told wonderfully but lacked emotion. I’m sure living hand to mouth takes an emotional toll but you’d never know it from this story. Because that is missing this story feels hallow.
I enjoyed this one, the evolution of an artist. This felt very much like a smaller section of a larger book. We learned a lot about the main character and the people he lived with and loved. Locations were very descriptive. Tales of work he did for basic survival was lacked emotion. Not sure how he could experience sex work or manual labor and not include how it made him feel. The loss of relationships, family and friends was told wonderfully but lacked emotion. I’m sure living hand to mouth takes an emotional toll but you’d never know it from this story. Because that is missing this story feels hallow.
January 28, 2023
"Precarity"
I learned a new word from this story as the main character lived his life of mooching mediocrity until the right person came along who offered the help he didn't know he needed or fully understand when he got it. The moochers I've known in my life didn't have this guy's luck or the author's talent, they just varied their mooching talents with no concept or care for a future life of their own, making and affording it. I don't fully understand or agree with the concept or decision, but some people just prefer a life of precarity. Nowadays they are all around us.
I learned a new word from this story as the main character lived his life of mooching mediocrity until the right person came along who offered the help he didn't know he needed or fully understand when he got it. The moochers I've known in my life didn't have this guy's luck or the author's talent, they just varied their mooching talents with no concept or care for a future life of their own, making and affording it. I don't fully understand or agree with the concept or decision, but some people just prefer a life of precarity. Nowadays they are all around us.
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