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God Hates Fags: The Rhetorics of Religious Violence
2007 Choice Outstanding Academic Title
At the funeral of Matthew Shepard—the young Wyoming man brutally murdered for being gay—the Reverend Fred Phelps led his parishioners in protest, displaying signs with slogans like “Matt Shepard rots in Hell,” “Fags Die God Laughs,” and “God Hates Fags.” In counter-protest, activists launched an “angel action,” dressing in angel costumes, with seven-foot high wings, and creating a visible barrier so one would not have to see the hateful signs.
Though long thought of as one of the most virulently anti-gay genres of contemporary American politics and culture, in God Hates Fags , Michael Cobb maintains that religious discourses have curiously figured as the most potent and pervasive forms of queer expression and activism throughout the twentieth century. Cobb focuses on how queers have assumed religious rhetoric strategically to respond to the violence done against them, alternating close readings of writings by James Baldwin, Tennessee Williams, Jean Toomer, Dorothy Allison, and Stephen Crane with critical legal and political analyses of Supreme Court Cases and anti-gay legislation. He also pays deep attention to the political strategies, public declarations, websites, interviews, and other media made by key religious right organizations that have mounted the most successful regulations and condemnations of homosexuality.
At the funeral of Matthew Shepard—the young Wyoming man brutally murdered for being gay—the Reverend Fred Phelps led his parishioners in protest, displaying signs with slogans like “Matt Shepard rots in Hell,” “Fags Die God Laughs,” and “God Hates Fags.” In counter-protest, activists launched an “angel action,” dressing in angel costumes, with seven-foot high wings, and creating a visible barrier so one would not have to see the hateful signs.
Though long thought of as one of the most virulently anti-gay genres of contemporary American politics and culture, in God Hates Fags , Michael Cobb maintains that religious discourses have curiously figured as the most potent and pervasive forms of queer expression and activism throughout the twentieth century. Cobb focuses on how queers have assumed religious rhetoric strategically to respond to the violence done against them, alternating close readings of writings by James Baldwin, Tennessee Williams, Jean Toomer, Dorothy Allison, and Stephen Crane with critical legal and political analyses of Supreme Court Cases and anti-gay legislation. He also pays deep attention to the political strategies, public declarations, websites, interviews, and other media made by key religious right organizations that have mounted the most successful regulations and condemnations of homosexuality.
- GenresReligionNonfiction
229 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
83 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
June 28, 2007
disappointing but interesting...i have to stop thinking a book is really good just because of an interesting title.
August 3, 2008
A profound analysis of contemporary issues for homosexual tolerance and preservation of civil rights for the GLBT segment of our society. While at times mired in splitting-hair semantics, the book provides a critical account of both sides of the controversial topic. A necessary step away from "like race" arguments in the continued efforts to combat unconstitutional limitations on homosexual equal protection are heavily weighted with an emphasis on exploratory options within the very confines of religious belief which so commonly besets claims for equality in contemporary US politics. An interesting read despite the author's flagrant overcompensation/attempts to sound intellectual.
August 24, 2013
I want to be upfront about why I gave the book a Two Star review. It is because it addresses an important topic that plays across not just multiple academic subsets of specialties, but one that is on-its-face important. The topic that Cobb should be addressing in the book is important. And that is why this isn't rated as a One Star (or Zero Star) review.
There are many problems here, all of them the direct fault of Cobb. Most importantly, he is not a talented or communicative writer. He does not draw the reader in, present arguments or facts in straightforward manners, nor have the ability to stay on point. Worse, he consistently misunderstands the points he thinks he is trying to make. Beyond that, he frequently attempts to reinforce or reintroduce his positions with phrases like 'as I have argued before' (in instances where he has not addressed the topic at all or where he is now taking a perpendicular position to the one he was making earlier) and 'as I have proved' (when nothing could be further from the case, as he does indeed use this when first bringing up a topic only vaguely related to any points previously appearing in the book). Cobb uses the sentence, "Let me explain." at least four times. Conversationally, this would be a fine (if extremely arrogant on the face of it) means to restart the presentation of material in the making of a formal argument. In print, it is a tacit admission that the author has not been able to make himself clear. Given that there are so few moments when Cobb is actually making a clear point (or that any of the points that he attempts to make relate to one another in a coherent fashion), one would think that the sections that follow in the explanations would be of the best/most accessible caliber. They are not.
Part of my particular issue with Cobb (as the author) is my absolute and total disdain for some of the academic positions he puts forth. The school of thought that (or rather, the academics who) embraces the 'philosophy of language' positions that analogies can only serve to misappropriate qualities from the former to give undue perspective on the latter (an argument that is important early in the book but abandoned as soon as Cobb has the need to argue in a more comprehensible fashion) was one that I hoped to be dead by this point. Moreover, Cobb never bothers to do the research to comment on the psychological need to order complex concepts through existent understanding to underscore why there would be a compelling reason for the use of analogy in regards to all aspects of understandings of the experience/struggles/revilement of the LGBT community. Cobb never makes any effort to employ theologians to address the continuity (or lack thereof) of the meaning of religious "rhetorics" or examine the issue from the linguistic roots of such rhetoric.
Instead, Cobb (and a handful of other academics whom he finds persuasive, even when he deliberately excises important contradictory information to his position -- see the notes) wallows in vague vagaries (I couldn't resist the phrase) for most of the text, getting specific only to make weak, reaching evaluations of a few pieces of literary work. He breaks from his academic voice to intersperse odd moments of self-declaration that largely rob and momentum he has gained in regards to getting the reader to take the work seriously (a few do make sense, such as his closing statement of hating America or re-framing a revist to the opposition of Colorado's Amendment 2).
Now, if I am going to call Cobb out for having failed to deliver a worthwhile treatment of the material, I may as well cite some specifics as to where I became angered that a more serious person could not have undertaken the work (or worked in the editorial field where this effort would have been caught and kept from reaching publication, at least as presently constituted).
[All emphases are mine.]
p. 40 -- In commenting on Dennis Shepard's address to the court (in regards to the murderers of his son, Matthew Shepard), Cobb either has no knowledge that the Nazi regime rounded up and executed homosexuals or he purposely excludes any reference to it as to give the presentation that the Nazis were solely concerned about the Jewish Question. He frames his argument reaction to Shepard invoking the Nazis to one exclusively of being "like race". Incidentally, read Janet Halley's "Like Race" Arguments to have an idea of what Cobb is hinting at in regards to the "like race" argument, because not only does he not explain the linguistic, constructed form of the argument, he never makes much sense of it in the conversation terms either.
Cobb also exclusively refers to members of the LGBT community/existence as "queers" (and thus makes it the LGBTQ community/existence). On an emotional level, I find this offensive. I understand that as a member of the community/existence, Cobb has greater authority to determine what it and its membership should be called or so described. My offense comes not from who gets to choose a title, but rather the actual meaning of the word queer when divorced from whatever is ascribed to it. Sure, it fits in with Cobb's desire to simultaneously cry for full inclusion in the rights of civil (civic) society while at the same time (figuratively) scream "fuck you" at the terrible, heteronormativity of society; in this regard, Cobb has little to no regard for the majority of people who are not/cannot become part of his understanding of "queers". Even as he stumbles about trying to get a handle on the degree to which sexual identity need be tied to personal identity (Cobb eventually finds that it need only apply to "queers" because it is what sets them apart from all the terrible heterosexuals). At any rate, that is all a preface to where, on p. 81, Cobb writes this:
On p. 82, Cobb does not address the complete and total misappellation of the term psychopathy (from D'Emilio's Sexual Politics). This is more of a problem for me than most readers, I am sure, but if Cobb doesn't know that it is being misused, then he doesn't know what it means and shouldn't be including it in his work.
On p. 83-84, Cobb evinces a thorough and complete misunderstanding as to origins of cultural identity. I do not hold Cobb personally responsible for this in that he did not invent the conceit that it had to be done in America by (gay) communists in the 20th Century. (There is an absent argument that the retention while assimilating was accomplished by groups that could be seen to fit into the Straight/White/Christian mold; perhaps Cobb believes to vague implication is enough.)
Also on p. 84, Cobb finally makes the argument that the transformation of homosexual identity from individual to collective community (minority group) is essential in understanding the language of the group/community. This is a basic premise from which Cobb needs to proceed. He cannot get to it (he has not been building up to it) until roughly halfway through the book. Nor does he follow up on it in a convincing manner.
On p. 86, Cobb is completely unaware of the irony of including Rey Chow's quote about how "Minorities are allowed the right to speak only on the implicit assumption that they will speak in the documentary mode. "reflecting" the group from which they come." Cobb spent an entire chapter doing exactly that with James Baldwin, going deeper in that he attempted to determine the psychological state of the author (and thus the African-American "queer") through what was revealed in-character in a novel. Never mind that all of Cobb's literary analyses are strained to reinforce the position he has already taken. Also on p. 86, Cobb brings up the notion of escaping racial/ethnic expectations in regards to "documentary/truth-telling voice" through "like race" strategies. How does that logically follow? Cobb doesn't even address this, one assume because he is unaware of the obvious contradiction he had just posed.
On p. 87, Cobb writes
On p. 90, Cobb declares builds from a premise built upon "[America's] theocratic roots in Plymouth Colony." Let us first disabuse the ignorant of the notion that America is the descendant of the Puritans of Plymouth colony (we wouldn't have had slaves and maintain an absolute love of guns if such were the case). Moreover, this position functionally misunderstands how little power the church had; rather there was a community bound together in Faith. A community of outsiders who had only their religion as a shield against the power and culture of mother England and then the American colonists. That Cobb cannot see the relation to the LGBT community (though clearly from the other side) is a fundamental failure of basic understanding.
Later, we get to my problems with Cobb as an interpreter of literature. On p. 92, he allows for no other interpretation of 'black shadows' other than a racial (and thus biblical?) understanding. Because it is impossible that anyone would, without writing with racial intent, describe shadows as black. Ever. On p. 103, Cobb again wants to ascribe too much meaning to "black" the word which is applied as a color or lack of light. You know, how the word is used. Incidentally, he inserts "black" as exclusively having racial meaning when, in regards to when the texts were written, African-Americans were largely called "colored" or "negroes" (and there was an entire sub-language for intimating racial associations in regards to them as opposed to White Americans). I do not know if Cobb is simply unaware or too lazy to give up something he believes easily makes his point.
On p. 98, Cobb gets around to doing some good writing. He points out that the "outcast" is necessary to demonstrate the condition of wretchedness. Through the conditions of the outcast (racial minority, homosexual), one can see what is not-worthy, has transgressed against the order (and God) and thus must be not be accorded a place within proper society nor have a voice as a member of said society. Not something most of us would agree with as an ideal, but Cobb does a good job of making the anthropological/sociological point without ever resorting to those field to explain it.
On p. 111, Cobb asserts that Christian religious language is clearly and consistently evocative of race. Other than this weak assertions (which reference none of the language), Cobb never explains how this is so.
On p. 114, Cobb writes "[T]he rights garnered from theoretical and literary critical work have been, and will continue to be, critical for queer politics." The problem is that this is not what the book should be about, at least no as it has been marketed. Also...it is a BS critical theory that Cobb is advocating, and upon which any and all of his claims must then rest. That's okay though, because one page later (p. 115), Cobb has the entire city of Colorado Springs responding, as an entity, to boycotts over Amendment 2.
He follows that up (on p. 115-116) by refusing to acknowledge the legalistic language used in an editorial by Michael W. Rosen as being anything other than racially charged (which is odd in as much as it would have made more sense to discuss the religious claim to morality in regards to withholding rights on a moral objection...from a linguistic, literary, and cultural perspective). More to the point, the general discussion should have been about why groups outside the expected American "normal" (Straight, White, Christian) are in need of "special protection" under the law at all. That would have made for some interesting reading, at least.
On p. 125, Cobb writes, "Fury around the public classroom is not really about what and who gets taught in the national classroom, but rather what that teaching means for the nation's cultural identity and citizenship, especially along the fault lines of religion, race, and sexuality." It is a good point, and one that merits deeper examination than Cobb gives it. For example, it could have been a prime pillar of this very book.
On p. 126, Cobb argues that the Scopes trial was manufactured spectacle.
On p. 187 (that's right, I am going to comment on something from the notes), Cobb actually writes "I'd like to imagine that my own work belongs, perhaps obliquely, to this new pantheon of dynamic critical race and queer work." Let us address Cobb's ego while dismissing his blatant and purposeful misuse of the word pantheon. Why is Cobb's interest in his place being one of reverence (ironic on at least one level)? Moreover, should not that concern have served as motivation for him to write a better book? A more serious, adult book that didn't try to hide itself in cryptic language of critical theory? Or, more correctly to have written a book with clear purpose, concise and insightful critical examinations of the issue at hand (in other words, he should have found the ability to remain on topic), and to contribute a greater level of understanding in the field? This is not the case.
So, having addressed the issues upon which I took note (they are not all complaints), I do want to make it clear that this book is an abject disaster. It is on a serious topic, and it has some relevant information. But it is written by someone who could not get out of his own way save by not existing, at least when it comes to presentation (and probably functional understanding). There have to be better boos out there than this, and I am going to make an effort to find them. And then direct Michael Cobb to read them. Because he is not in the position to write on the subject yet.
There are many problems here, all of them the direct fault of Cobb. Most importantly, he is not a talented or communicative writer. He does not draw the reader in, present arguments or facts in straightforward manners, nor have the ability to stay on point. Worse, he consistently misunderstands the points he thinks he is trying to make. Beyond that, he frequently attempts to reinforce or reintroduce his positions with phrases like 'as I have argued before' (in instances where he has not addressed the topic at all or where he is now taking a perpendicular position to the one he was making earlier) and 'as I have proved' (when nothing could be further from the case, as he does indeed use this when first bringing up a topic only vaguely related to any points previously appearing in the book). Cobb uses the sentence, "Let me explain." at least four times. Conversationally, this would be a fine (if extremely arrogant on the face of it) means to restart the presentation of material in the making of a formal argument. In print, it is a tacit admission that the author has not been able to make himself clear. Given that there are so few moments when Cobb is actually making a clear point (or that any of the points that he attempts to make relate to one another in a coherent fashion), one would think that the sections that follow in the explanations would be of the best/most accessible caliber. They are not.
Part of my particular issue with Cobb (as the author) is my absolute and total disdain for some of the academic positions he puts forth. The school of thought that (or rather, the academics who) embraces the 'philosophy of language' positions that analogies can only serve to misappropriate qualities from the former to give undue perspective on the latter (an argument that is important early in the book but abandoned as soon as Cobb has the need to argue in a more comprehensible fashion) was one that I hoped to be dead by this point. Moreover, Cobb never bothers to do the research to comment on the psychological need to order complex concepts through existent understanding to underscore why there would be a compelling reason for the use of analogy in regards to all aspects of understandings of the experience/struggles/revilement of the LGBT community. Cobb never makes any effort to employ theologians to address the continuity (or lack thereof) of the meaning of religious "rhetorics" or examine the issue from the linguistic roots of such rhetoric.
Instead, Cobb (and a handful of other academics whom he finds persuasive, even when he deliberately excises important contradictory information to his position -- see the notes) wallows in vague vagaries (I couldn't resist the phrase) for most of the text, getting specific only to make weak, reaching evaluations of a few pieces of literary work. He breaks from his academic voice to intersperse odd moments of self-declaration that largely rob and momentum he has gained in regards to getting the reader to take the work seriously (a few do make sense, such as his closing statement of hating America or re-framing a revist to the opposition of Colorado's Amendment 2).
Now, if I am going to call Cobb out for having failed to deliver a worthwhile treatment of the material, I may as well cite some specifics as to where I became angered that a more serious person could not have undertaken the work (or worked in the editorial field where this effort would have been caught and kept from reaching publication, at least as presently constituted).
[All emphases are mine.]
p. 40 -- In commenting on Dennis Shepard's address to the court (in regards to the murderers of his son, Matthew Shepard), Cobb either has no knowledge that the Nazi regime rounded up and executed homosexuals or he purposely excludes any reference to it as to give the presentation that the Nazis were solely concerned about the Jewish Question. He frames his argument reaction to Shepard invoking the Nazis to one exclusively of being "like race". Incidentally, read Janet Halley's "Like Race" Arguments to have an idea of what Cobb is hinting at in regards to the "like race" argument, because not only does he not explain the linguistic, constructed form of the argument, he never makes much sense of it in the conversation terms either.
Cobb also exclusively refers to members of the LGBT community/existence as "queers" (and thus makes it the LGBTQ community/existence). On an emotional level, I find this offensive. I understand that as a member of the community/existence, Cobb has greater authority to determine what it and its membership should be called or so described. My offense comes not from who gets to choose a title, but rather the actual meaning of the word queer when divorced from whatever is ascribed to it. Sure, it fits in with Cobb's desire to simultaneously cry for full inclusion in the rights of civil (civic) society while at the same time (figuratively) scream "fuck you" at the terrible, heteronormativity of society; in this regard, Cobb has little to no regard for the majority of people who are not/cannot become part of his understanding of "queers". Even as he stumbles about trying to get a handle on the degree to which sexual identity need be tied to personal identity (Cobb eventually finds that it need only apply to "queers" because it is what sets them apart from all the terrible heterosexuals). At any rate, that is all a preface to where, on p. 81, Cobb writes this:
[Q]ueers are forced to have a strained relationship to the language of political respectability or value. We are not permitted easy access into proper political language for numerous fallacious reasons: for example, one Illinois judge in 1897 described homosexual sodomy as that which is "not fit to be named among Christians."There are several problems here. First, Cobb has done a dreadful job (save by mere assertion, weak and sporadic) to make the point that there is an accepted political language of power that comes about through an invocation of religious terms; Cobb never addresses what constitutes religious terms. Second, his statement reduces all LGBT persons to his/her/its sexuality and gender identification in terms of political voice. There can be no other issue, it would seem, than that of being "queer". Cobb is not even asserting that the LGBT issues lack a means of being translated into politically respectable language, but rather than the LGBTQ persons don't have the language themselves. Third, there is no context given for the quote from the judge (and that the book it is taken from covers 1940-1970, the inclusion of the 1897 quote seems suspect at best). The implication is that the judge, through invoking religion (quite wrongly in factual manner) is speaking not just with political authority, but simultaneously from political authority (the bench) and in a manner wholly endorsed by the political system. Were this the actual case, Cobb would have been able to cite the court case. It is a misleading, fallacious argument that is a greater sin because it is a non sequitur to the statement to which it has been attached. Nor is it clear or accurate to state that the religious/political language has made an attempt to expunge the "homosexual sodomy" as linguistically existent as it is needed (as Cobb consistently argues) as something against which a jeremiad (religious screed) can be directed.
On p. 82, Cobb does not address the complete and total misappellation of the term psychopathy (from D'Emilio's Sexual Politics). This is more of a problem for me than most readers, I am sure, but if Cobb doesn't know that it is being misused, then he doesn't know what it means and shouldn't be including it in his work.
On p. 83-84, Cobb evinces a thorough and complete misunderstanding as to origins of cultural identity. I do not hold Cobb personally responsible for this in that he did not invent the conceit that it had to be done in America by (gay) communists in the 20th Century. (There is an absent argument that the retention while assimilating was accomplished by groups that could be seen to fit into the Straight/White/Christian mold; perhaps Cobb believes to vague implication is enough.)
Also on p. 84, Cobb finally makes the argument that the transformation of homosexual identity from individual to collective community (minority group) is essential in understanding the language of the group/community. This is a basic premise from which Cobb needs to proceed. He cannot get to it (he has not been building up to it) until roughly halfway through the book. Nor does he follow up on it in a convincing manner.
On p. 86, Cobb is completely unaware of the irony of including Rey Chow's quote about how "Minorities are allowed the right to speak only on the implicit assumption that they will speak in the documentary mode. "reflecting" the group from which they come." Cobb spent an entire chapter doing exactly that with James Baldwin, going deeper in that he attempted to determine the psychological state of the author (and thus the African-American "queer") through what was revealed in-character in a novel. Never mind that all of Cobb's literary analyses are strained to reinforce the position he has already taken. Also on p. 86, Cobb brings up the notion of escaping racial/ethnic expectations in regards to "documentary/truth-telling voice" through "like race" strategies. How does that logically follow? Cobb doesn't even address this, one assume because he is unaware of the obvious contradiction he had just posed.
On p. 87, Cobb writes
[T]he "literary" has historically and enormously powerful functions; self-conscious language, as we seeing through my archive, has proven instrumental in the ways queers have conceptualized their own political challenges to the religious and national fundamentalism that necessarily despises them.First, Cobb has not established, by any metric, the necessity of political (linguistically, if nothing else) disenfranchisement of LGBT persons. Nor is religion (White, American Protestantism) so monolithic that it can be seen -- especially at the time the book was published, 2006 -- as being core to religion that the "queer" is a concept to be deprived of expression and reviled without abandon. This is not a denial that there are religious (specious or not) objections to both the homosexual and homosexuality (and perhaps the 'non-normative'), but rather a notice that no case has been made, nor can one be reasonably made, to establish the necessity of such positions within the existence of religion. Second, Cobb has not established, save through assertion that religious terminology pervades portions of political ceremony (and that religious people have political discourse on religious terms), that there is any national fundamentalism that needs the "queer" specifically to be part of a recognizable outlier/not-wholly-us group.
On p. 90, Cobb declares builds from a premise built upon "[America's] theocratic roots in Plymouth Colony." Let us first disabuse the ignorant of the notion that America is the descendant of the Puritans of Plymouth colony (we wouldn't have had slaves and maintain an absolute love of guns if such were the case). Moreover, this position functionally misunderstands how little power the church had; rather there was a community bound together in Faith. A community of outsiders who had only their religion as a shield against the power and culture of mother England and then the American colonists. That Cobb cannot see the relation to the LGBT community (though clearly from the other side) is a fundamental failure of basic understanding.
Later, we get to my problems with Cobb as an interpreter of literature. On p. 92, he allows for no other interpretation of 'black shadows' other than a racial (and thus biblical?) understanding. Because it is impossible that anyone would, without writing with racial intent, describe shadows as black. Ever. On p. 103, Cobb again wants to ascribe too much meaning to "black" the word which is applied as a color or lack of light. You know, how the word is used. Incidentally, he inserts "black" as exclusively having racial meaning when, in regards to when the texts were written, African-Americans were largely called "colored" or "negroes" (and there was an entire sub-language for intimating racial associations in regards to them as opposed to White Americans). I do not know if Cobb is simply unaware or too lazy to give up something he believes easily makes his point.
On p. 98, Cobb gets around to doing some good writing. He points out that the "outcast" is necessary to demonstrate the condition of wretchedness. Through the conditions of the outcast (racial minority, homosexual), one can see what is not-worthy, has transgressed against the order (and God) and thus must be not be accorded a place within proper society nor have a voice as a member of said society. Not something most of us would agree with as an ideal, but Cobb does a good job of making the anthropological/sociological point without ever resorting to those field to explain it.
On p. 111, Cobb asserts that Christian religious language is clearly and consistently evocative of race. Other than this weak assertions (which reference none of the language), Cobb never explains how this is so.
On p. 114, Cobb writes "[T]he rights garnered from theoretical and literary critical work have been, and will continue to be, critical for queer politics." The problem is that this is not what the book should be about, at least no as it has been marketed. Also...it is a BS critical theory that Cobb is advocating, and upon which any and all of his claims must then rest. That's okay though, because one page later (p. 115), Cobb has the entire city of Colorado Springs responding, as an entity, to boycotts over Amendment 2.
He follows that up (on p. 115-116) by refusing to acknowledge the legalistic language used in an editorial by Michael W. Rosen as being anything other than racially charged (which is odd in as much as it would have made more sense to discuss the religious claim to morality in regards to withholding rights on a moral objection...from a linguistic, literary, and cultural perspective). More to the point, the general discussion should have been about why groups outside the expected American "normal" (Straight, White, Christian) are in need of "special protection" under the law at all. That would have made for some interesting reading, at least.
On p. 125, Cobb writes, "Fury around the public classroom is not really about what and who gets taught in the national classroom, but rather what that teaching means for the nation's cultural identity and citizenship, especially along the fault lines of religion, race, and sexuality." It is a good point, and one that merits deeper examination than Cobb gives it. For example, it could have been a prime pillar of this very book.
On p. 126, Cobb argues that the Scopes trial was manufactured spectacle.
On p. 187 (that's right, I am going to comment on something from the notes), Cobb actually writes "I'd like to imagine that my own work belongs, perhaps obliquely, to this new pantheon of dynamic critical race and queer work." Let us address Cobb's ego while dismissing his blatant and purposeful misuse of the word pantheon. Why is Cobb's interest in his place being one of reverence (ironic on at least one level)? Moreover, should not that concern have served as motivation for him to write a better book? A more serious, adult book that didn't try to hide itself in cryptic language of critical theory? Or, more correctly to have written a book with clear purpose, concise and insightful critical examinations of the issue at hand (in other words, he should have found the ability to remain on topic), and to contribute a greater level of understanding in the field? This is not the case.
So, having addressed the issues upon which I took note (they are not all complaints), I do want to make it clear that this book is an abject disaster. It is on a serious topic, and it has some relevant information. But it is written by someone who could not get out of his own way save by not existing, at least when it comes to presentation (and probably functional understanding). There have to be better boos out there than this, and I am going to make an effort to find them. And then direct Michael Cobb to read them. Because he is not in the position to write on the subject yet.
April 26, 2022
Honestly a lot of this went over my head. It's mostly aimed at religious and social scholars and I, a lowly STEM student was missing a lot of context. However what I did understand was insightful and a different way of looking at it. Even though much has changed since the publication of this book, it still made some salient points.
Read
October 30, 2014Not the type of a book one reads for pleasure. However, Cobb investigates ideas crucial to the ongoing fight we gays have with the mainstream and the way religion factors in.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews