Even on weekends, I would sit at my desk, sipping on a screwdriver while cutting arguments out of my skull, until I would hear my friends shout to me through my open windows, telling me that they had come to rescue me: it was time to go out and get fucked up.Read more.
My Body Is a Book of Rules
We were captivated by Elissa Washuta’s voice from the first sentence of her debut. Using an array of sidelong tactics – letters, scripts, transcripts, book reviews, diary entries, Cosmo quizzes, histories of her American Indian ancestors, lists and litanies – Washuta creates a portrait of her identity, all the more riveting for being in crisis. As Washuta navigates her early twenties, a cross-country move, addiction and bipolar disorder and sexual trauma (just your standard stuff), she leavens the deepest darkness with unexpected humor as she invites the reader eternally further into her brain, creating a work that’s as important as it is entrancing. At the end, you’re left wanting more, and grateful to the author for finally figuring out how to take good enough care of her brain and body so that she can live to write more books.
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