A book I haven't read by a writer I admire has been on my mind yesterday and today, since I saw a review of it in The Rumpus: Joyelle McSweeney's Percussion Grenade. The section of the review that stood out to me, which is also featured on Montevidayo, reads thus:
"The violence we throw on the human body and the shame we expect of one
another are all endlessly reflecting in language. McSweeney asks us to
inhabit the conflicting edges of that reality, mouthing the power and
joy that come with degeneracy. She does not let us read for beauty or
lyricism, but makes us active participants, tongue-tied by our own
culture."
Aside from my total jealousy that I did not write this book, and my fear that reading it would make me feel terrible (I'll probably still read it though, because apparently I love to feel terrible), the phrase "the shame we expect of one another" is what made me focus on that excerpt. I've been writing about my own shame throughout this series, but I'm also part of "people" and "one another"--I also have a seat in the stadium of shame (possibly more than one)--and maybe it's time I started thinking about the shame I expect from others as well as myself.
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