2022-04-30 5:34:35 ¶ ● ⬀ ⬈

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> was thinking earlier about how a lot of my frustration with (most) contemporary queer lit (i was thinking specifically of trans lit but i think this applies in a broader sense too) is how interior-focused it becomes to the point of being tediously self-involved and never actually going anywhere besides a presumed catharsis that in practice never has a satisfactory landing. and how the landscape of contemp queer lit seems to shape itself around that, too; this preoccupation with ‘no homophobia’ universes in SFF as supposedly escapist, but in practice just being soulless and uncompelling because they have nothing interesting to say. anyway – i’m sure she’s not the only person doing this, ofc, but – that then got me thinking about how, like, the 'no homophobia’ premise in tlt works because muir uses the absence of homophobia + transphobia in immediate, recognisable formats to then move the narrative away from this interior-focused questions of 'feelings’ around gender, sexuality, and into questions of, how do these formations make sense of themselves under imperialism? what are the models under which particular gender formations are made legible (ie. like cavalierhood as a means by which butchness is made legible, for example)? what does imperialism do to our ability to conceive of and act upon our own desire? or others’? which is a far, far more interesting perspective than, like, what do i, the protagonist, personally feel about my gender?

> i think it’s just part of why tlt belongs to my very very slim personal canon of contemporary queer lit that i find genuinely compelling and innovative, lmao. like, she uses the 'no homophobia’ premise as a means of abstracting these questions onto new planes (taps the cavalierhood gender essay) rather than just, doing away with homophobia + transphobia and pretty much anything that could give your narrative something of substance to say with it.