Summary × PDF, DOC, TXT or eBook ✓ Melissa Febos
For readers of Maggie Nelson and Leslie Jamison, a fierce and dazzling personal narrative that explores the many ways identity and art are shaped by love and loss.
In her critically acclaimed memoir, Whip Smart, Melissa Febos laid bare the intimate world of the professional dominatrix, turning an honest examination of her life into a lyrical study of power, desire, and fulfillment.
In her dazzling Abandon Me, Febos captures the intense bonds of love and the need for connection -- with family, lovers, and oneself. First, her birth father, who left her with only an inheritance of addiction and Native American blood, its meaning a mystery. As Febos tentatively reconnects, she sees how both these lineages manifest in her own life, marked by compulsion and an instinct for self-erasure. Meanwhile, she remains closely tied to the sea captain who raised her, his parenting ardent but intermittent as his work took him away for months at a time. Woven throughout is the hypnotic story of an all-consuming, long-distance love affair with a woman, marked equally by worship and withdrawal. In visceral, erotic prose, Febos captures their mutual abandonment to passion and obsession -- and the terror and exhilaration of losing herself in another.
At once a fearlessly vulnerable memoir and an incisive investigation of art, love, and identity, Abandon Me draws on childhood stories, religion, psychology, mythology, popular culture, and the intimacies of one writer's life to reveal intellectual and emotional truths that feel startlingly universal. Abandon Me: Memoirs
The book covers disparate themes, but all comes back to the subject of belonging. Does the dangerous thing of letting me close the book feeling like I know her. That's never true, but it does signify a strength in her writing that makes you feel fully let in. For fans of Maggie Nelson. 1632866579 I thought maybe the book title was being nice and giving me a little hint, that it was saying “abandon me.” Believe me, I thought about it.
But here’s why I stayed put:
-One reviewer said it was sort of like The Chronology of Water (it wasn’t).
-I wanted to see if it would get any better (it didn’t).
-It had tons of gushy reviews at the beginning of the book (I don’t get it).
-The language was sometimes seductive.
So let’s go with the positive here. Yes, the language is amazing--lyrical and intense. Some of the time, in fact, I was just mesmerized. Febos speaks frankly of longing, jealousy, and trust, which pulled me in. And she has some interesting insights, though honestly, I don’t think I could appreciate them because a lot of the time I was annoyed. CUT.
Uh oh, this is one of THOSE reviews--where I’ve finished the book and feel all huffy. Complaint City is about to open its gates. Then I open the book again to check out a quote, and damn! Beauteous language and keen insights stare me in the face and draw me in. So why did I start out bashing this book?
Okay, true confession (man, you’re probably considering me totally unreliable now!): My book buddy hated this book. This is just all wrong--we usually have the exact same reaction to a book. So I kept trying to hate it; I wanted to be like her. Meanwhile, she was doing the same thing--trying to like it, trying to be like me. This led to some funny discussions where we struggled to agree (didn’t happen) and we ended up laughing hysterically. Since we aren’t in seventh grade, we finally realized that it’s okay, we don’t have to try to see the book through each other’s eyes—because it just doesn’t work that way. Taste is a weird bird.
So now that I have that confession over with, off I go to the Complaint Board. My biggest complaint is that Febos would pour out her heart in one paragraph, and then start a factual discussion in the next. Literature, history, Jungian psychology, myths, philosophy, religion, facts about Indian tribes—she threw it all in. The facts diluted the emotion and almost became comical.
Here’s an example of sequential paragraphs:
“Black hair wet against her forehead, she smiled at me, touched my face with her hot hand.
The Catholic monks of Opus Dei, like their thirteenth-century predecessors, practice self-flagellation in prayer. In India, Pakistan, Iraq, and Iran, some Shiites march in parades, practicing their versions—zanjeer zani and tatbir. . . . ”
What???? Foreign words I’ll never remember, religious history I couldn’t care less about. What happened to the intimate moment she was just describing? And that pedantic paragraph went on and on. It drove me crazy! Febos does eventually get back to making it relate to her story, but it’s a long road back. Once she even had a footnote. Seriously, footnotes do not belong in a memoir.
The book reminded me of Solnit’s The Faraway Nearby, but Solnit gets away with the digressions a little better. I think that’s because Solnit’s work was advertised as a book of essays, with some memoir thrown in, whereas here, Febos’s work is called a memoir, so the grad-school lectures are more annoying. I did complain about this in Faraway Nearby, so I’m an equal-opportunity complainer.
But I think I misspoke when I said earlier that Febos was pouring her heart out, because a lot of the time she sounded stilted and detached, which doesn’t go with heart pouring. When she did write with emotion, it often seemed melodramatic, like she was going for effect. The word pretentious comes to mind. Yes, there were times I was impressed by her honesty, but that was overshadowed by the lectures.
The academic detours had the effect of taking me out of her story, which made it harder to understand her or empathize with her. Perhaps she included them as a way to distance herself from emotion, which is anti-memoir in my opinion.
Note that reviewers actually liked this style. One reviewer said this:
“Febos exposes the complications of identity, addiction, obsession, jealousy, forgiveness, trust, and abandonment—weaving into each scenario mythological, psychological, and literal interpretations.”
And another said this:
“But the truly special moments are when Febos is exploring her relationship with her father(s) or ruminating on favorite books, the beauty and nuance of language, philosophy, native culture, and the meaning of home.”
If combining emotional confessions with academic lectures appeals to you, you might very well find this a good read, because the language is indeed good. You can tell that Febos is one smart cookie. Based on the pre-release reviews, I predict I’ll be in the minority here. I wouldn’t be surprised if this one doesn’t become big-time popular.
I wasn’t crazy about the choices Febos made, and I didn’t understand where she was coming from all the time. Although it’s the book and not her life that I’m reviewing, these factors kept me from getting into her story more.
As I said in my initial short review, I’m going to stick to what I know is true: Stay away from memoirs by unknowns. Her seductive language is the only thing that kept this from 2-star-land.
Thanks to NetGalley for the advance copy.
1632866579 Just the title of Melissa Febos memoir...left me with questions. I understood the subject: ABANDONMENT.....but Abandon Me.... depending on how it's said -and framed can have different meanings.
I can't remember-specifically reading a book about the affects of abandonment- yet my father died when I was 4 and my mother often left me home alone at night starting at the of 5 -- so I was very interested in Melissa's memoir in which she include stories about her childhood. As I read through the stories I noticed a pattern -- Melissa craved comfort. The things that pained her couldn't be soothed by speaking. Rage about being rejected was turned inward. As abandonment progressed , it burrowed deep within where it silently was eating away at her self-esteem.
Desires to consume grew.... to fill her emptiness. Lust was a desire.
Chronic insecurity became the scourge of her human relationships.
Fear became a barrier at attempts to find love.
And like many abandoned people-- Melissa defended bruises by a lover: it was a feeling of being owned.
Melissa said: As much as we like to own, we also like to be owned in love. Or at least to belong to someone. I am a feminist, and the desire to be possessed is one I have been reluctant to admit.
Melissa's writing is real- raw - emotional. Books were of tremendous value to her growing up. The Captain, who raised her, ( Melissa's first father left), gave her treasures rather than religion....and he gave her stories.
We learn quite a lot about Melissa's life... 'everything... from drugs. Sex, changes in her appearance, i.e. Clothes, hair color, music, her family, ( her brother's bipolar disorder),
the secrecy and self absorption and greedy need Melissa had to protect only herself...
and the addiction than ran through her family.
It's got to take so much courage to write a book like this.... because even if Melissa has achieved more emotional balance and inner peace today-- which God Bless her - I hope she has -- and it sounds like she has --to write about old pains -old memories... she would have to feel them again to have manifested emotional integrity such as she did.
Melissa created meaning from some crazy chaotic situations.
Thank You Bloomsbury, NetGalley, and Melissa Febos,
1632866579 Something about this book I just found incredible. I found myself rearranging my entire life just to find the time to devote to reading it.
I don't think it's for everyone. I don't expect everyone to read this and like it, but I really really enjoyed it. 1632866579 I dislike writing negative reviews, in particular for memoirs, because I know firsthand how much vulnerability goes into this brave, brutal genre. And I appreciated Melissa Febos's vulnerability in Abandon Me, as she describes lust, love, loss, and a gamut of other emotions in a raw and honest way throughout the book. Her essay Labyrinths slayed me with its intricate discussion of family, mental illness, and the importance of saving oneself.
However, I did not appreciate the glorification of the unhealthy and toxic romantic relationship in Abandon Me. Though some may use words like passionate or exhilarating to describe the romance that pervades this book, I would characterize it as emotional abuse (for further reading, check out this short piece by Cheryl Strayed on the same topic.) For the entire duration of this book, I waited for Febos to describe how she broke free from this abusive dynamic, or at least for her to indicate an awareness that this type of behavior should not be normalized. However, she ends her book by writing every lover is a destroyer... I had to be destroyed to become something else. As someone who has experienced both unhealthy and healthy relationships, I would argue that, actually, a lot of loving relationships heal instead of destroy, and you do not have to necessarily be destroyed to find yourself.
Overall, I wish I had liked this one more, but the imprecise language and the lack of structure, coherency, and greater unifying message tired me out. I do wish Febos the best and I hope that readers who enjoy this book take away the message they should try to prevent or seek help for the more abusive behaviors present within its pages. For those who want intense, intelligent, and compassionate personal essays or memoirs, I would recommend Appetites by Caroline Knapp, as well as The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison, just to name a couple. 1632866579
I read this book with my hand clutched over my heart. It is such an aching, loving piece of art. It chronicles enough elements of Febos's life that it is difficult to braid all the threads into one neat summary. While so much of her story is fascinatingly unique, the book felt universal, with the kind of insight that resonates bone-deep. Febos's writing is gorgeous: I was truly blown away by the quality of the prose. I wish I could read it for the first time again. If you're interested in lyrical personal essay, I would highly recommend. 1632866579 My heart. As a whole better than the sum of its parts. Very well worth reading! 1632866579 How do I know a book deserves an automatic five-star rating? When I have eight pages of quotes in my journal. EIGHT.
I could have copied this whole book down and still needed to go back and copy it all again. Melissa Febos’ prose is FLAWLESS. God. It’s so beautiful that I can not find a single thing to criticize.
It is also DRIPPING with sex.
In fact, most of the negative reviews on Goodreads say something like “Why does this book have to be so sexual?” Um, guys, you picked a book by dominatrix…did you expect something G rated?
This isn’t so much about her time as a sex worker–that’s another book–but about every other loaded section of her life. As she puts it:
“I am Puerto Rican, but not really. Indian, but not really. Gay, but not really. Adopted, but not really.”
The memoir’s story follows her abusive relationship with a married woman and her constant struggle to escape it. She details her addiction to self-harm, then alcohol, then drugs, and then love–all in an effort to gain control over her own body. We get to know, some along with her, the heartbreakingly damaged people in her life.
But the most important point of this book is how she teaches us of the incredible psychological trauma of the Indigenous Peoples of America. At one point, she has a conversation with her agent about how no one wants to read about Native Americans, that she should write something more akin to her dominatrix book, something about her–urban and edgy. So she does just that with this book–writing her love story, but still managing to weave in Native American history in every stop that is made, and let us know just how that genocide and erasure has affected the people we have tried so hard to push down.
Prove that agent wrong. Order this book immediately, guys. It’s sexy, it’s beautiful, it’s IMPORTANT. There are LGBTQIA+ and Native and POC people everywhere in this. And you know, that agent is right about one thing–we don’t see too many Native American authors–but that shouldn’t mean a lack of wanting them published. We need more stories like this, and we can start with Melissa Fabos. GO ORDER THIS BOOK, YA’LL. 1632866579 Electrifying, gut-wrenching, painful, gorgeous, personal... It was hard for me to get through it, and left me wrung dry and damp every time I put it down but was at the same time vividly addictive. Much, I suspect, like the author herself in some ways. 1632866579 I read Whip Smart and didn't finish it. I appreciated so much of it but the writing didn't carry me through. Or it felt redundant. Or it was the wrong time for me to read it. Anyway, when I found an ARC of Abandon Me I was intrigued but not keeling over with excitement. I started the book that night and we were inseparable for days -- until literally minutes ago when I turned the last page. I fucked this book UP with underlining and circling and star-ing and exclamation point-ing and DOUBLE and TRIPLE and QUADRUPLE underlining and square-ing whole paragraphs, accentuated with stars. I read it on the train and walking up stairs and walking home from the train, having to lean the book against a lamppost to underline and exclamation point some more. I told my roommates about it. I told my co-workers about it. I would have told people on the train about it but that's inappropriate. The writing is vast. Have you read Lidia Yuknavitch's (eternally brilliant) Chronology of Water? It hit me like that. Except Yuknavitch's story is woven beautifully but the story was not mine. I found myself again and again and again in the pages of Abandon Me. I offered to let my roommate read the copy but now it's so marked up I'm not sure anyone else would want to.
I read this book until it was 2am and my eyes couldn't anymore -- do you know how long it's been since that's happened? Since I thought about book wistfully when I couldn't be reading it?
Is anyone still reading this? Probably not. Probably you're all going to your locally-owned small bookstore and pre-ordering this book. You should. Especially if: you self-identify as a woman, you're any variation of queer, you've ever loved a woman, you've ever been in a co-dependent and emotionally abusive relationship, you were birthed by a woman, you have a brother, you have an addiction, you live and / or love New York City, you have indigenous heritage, you are not enough of something, you are too much.
This book makes me feel like maybe I don't ever need to find my biological dad. Like becoming my worst self with my ex fiance was the best thing I could have ever done for this moment, so many hundreds of days in the future. Like the man who acted like my father is the most benevolent gift this life has offered me. Like I should be in New Mexico or leaned back in a tattoo parlor. Like there is a way to tell our stories, that there is worth in everything we've left behind.
I can't wait for my roommate to read this book so that I can have it back and read it again. Until then I'm going back to Whip Smart to try it again. I already miss Abandon Me.
If you haven't read The Chronology of Water pick that up, too, while you're pre-ordering this one.
(Sidenote: I gave it a 4 because if MF can leap from Whip Smart to Abandon Me, I cannot truly conceive of what's next - but whatever it is, I want to leave space for her next genius)
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