Yesterday, I finished reading this in an hour, and basis my current political understanding of the feminist and queer discourse, I thought to again indulge in a conversation with this book and assess the magnitude of its contents.
When I finished browsing through this heavy pink-covered hardcover book that has Paolo Sergio de Castro’s image on the front – who died of AIDS and the book is dedicated to him – with “wish you were here” in golden color, I was overwhelmed with emotions. These 128 pages, cover to cover, carries the making of someone; multiple landscapes that change as abruptly as does the subjects of assessment of Sunil.
Being a collection of vignettes doesn’t mean that this book doesn’t have a structure. It does. Divided in three part — bucketing several private events that happened between 1968–1997, 1997–2006, and after 2006, and juxtaposing them with the social reality in France — this memoir takes us through the author’s internal dilemmas and struggles.
There’s a way in which nation works. And some nations believe in their “greatness.” They believe in their masculinity, their powerfulness, their unbreakability, their purity.
The panel stood apart from all others at JLF because it has everything from deep moments of self-reflection and instances of recounting trauma to voguing and cracking jokes about the queer experience.
Although this book is a recommended read for anyone interested in sex research, it’s important to remember that the nature of sex research differs depending on disciplinary focus.
While Ruth Vanita makes it clear that the book is not an exhaustive history book of same-sex unions, she belabours the point that same-sex unions are not (and never were) an exclusively modern phenomenon.
The book opens with Tobia's childhood in the section Kiddo, where they speak about their fixation with Barbie (and the hunky-dory Ken too!) and their curiosity about ‘pee-pees’ and 'wee-wees' if you know what I mean.
Sadat’s book is a heartfelt coming-of-age story of a young boy who not only has to deal with the struggles of being gay in a conservative society but also has to survive war, starvation and intense loss while doing so.
Published by SAGE Publications Rao's book is a collection of nine essays strung around themes of investigating an every-person view of queer theory.
On the 19th of October, Gaysi Family has put together a day of exploration and creation around a theme we love and have been working around for and since our horror zine, Normal.
The stories are interspersed with advice from psychologist Arpita Anand, and the collection is broken down based on different forms of depression and therapy, dealing with everything from Clinical Depression to Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and also tackling Post-Partum Depression.
The idea behind NORMAL was to not only pay homage to the genre of horror – from some of its cult tropes, to taking it in extreme spaces – but do it while holding on to an inherently Indian, desi, voice.
As I read this book, I was shaken; recognising myself in characters/people I didn’t particularly like and realising things about my own securely held beliefs is not a comfortable feeling (albeit a necessary one). It encouraged me, gently but firmly, to step out outside my worldview to digest what it means to serve your country.
The book, only available in South Asia currently has been garnering attention for its view of Afgan society. Nemat sits down with Gaysi to discuss his debut book, queer narratives from Afghanistan and how literature has a role to transform how politics of the marginalised continue to be viewed.
Less is an episodic and satirical picaresque tale about an almost-fifty gay author who concludes that the best way to avoid lovelorn misery is a literature and food-fueled trip around the world.
Is The Carpet Weaver a stirring coming-of-age story? Is it a heartrending account of queer love? Is it a sobering political drama? Or is it a condemnation of war? The mystery laid out in the cover page of the book will help you to seamlessly sail through its three-hundred odd pages!
The premise of the book explores the very basics of homosexuality and what it means in the Indian contexts. It captures not nuanced sociological theories but instead the religious and indigenous understanding and hostility towards it.
A simple book, with vibrant illustrations, the colours taking you through the many emotions that Guthli, a child, like any child with hopes, has!
I am here to tell you, yes you the ardent Agatha devourer, why this stunningly plotted mystery has to be your next read.