Caren Beilin

Revenge of the Scapegoat

Cumin Baleen is a forty-one-year-old writer living in Philadelphia—this city of hospitals—who works at the upscale grocery Sea & Poison and is navigating the onset of an autoimmune condition. To start a medication that may help, an eye exam is required and this leads to a nightmarish laser eye surgery. The laser shoots into her brain, making her language spare and her sentences clause-less, a vexing constraint that stalls her book on gynecological malpractice: she wants others, in the realm of our for-profit medical industry that “renders the Hippocratic Oath its opposite,” to see poison.

Meanwhile, Cumin is kicked out of her boyfriend Mari’s studio after he falls for Janine, their landlord, and starts renting a closet in Maron’s bedroom— polyamorous Maron who is hooking up with Alix, whom Cumin lusts after. Disheveled from medicines and medical scams, Cumin declares, “I don’t know what to say, I’m saying I have a cracked appearance. It’s not a pity party, it’s a character sketch. Insofar as you’ll need to be looking at me, that your mind should fill me up with its own swaying cognitive and toxic reeds if we are to do this, your imagination should touch me with its ridiculous poison.”

Caren Beilin’s hypnotic and fractured story is at once an homage to Shusaku Endo’s terrifying novel of human vivisection The Sea and Poison and the spirit of Oulipo, the pioneering French writing group that sought new literary potential through constraints.

Sea, Poison

Literary Nonfiction. Memoir. Women's Studies. BLACKFISHING THE IUD is a daring and demanding memoir by author, Caren Beilin, about reproductive health and the IUD, gendered illness, medical gaslighting, and activism in the chronic illness community. Rhapsodic and unabashedly polemical, Beilin scrutinizes the literary, artistic, and medical history of Rheumatoid Arthritis, as she considers the copper IUD's role in triggering her sudden onset of chronic autoimmunity. As the title makes abundantly clear, the book is an argument that the copper IUD is sickening quite a lot of women--and that we listen first and foremost to women's testimony to begin to resolve it. "BLACKFISHING THE IUD is a necessary and searing polemic. Deftly shifting between literary history and emerging scientific research, Caren Beilin defiantly insists on the truth of her own experience--and demands that medicine take the anecdotal reports of women like her seriously."--Maya Dusenbery As I read I thought of alchemy, Beilin is an alchemist. She transmutes metal, in this case copper, into something that flames and sings and questions and fights. It's a supranatural work that quests after healing but also finds and makes sense in its paradoxes."--Johanna Hedva "'Love does leave you open,' Caren Beilin proves in this heart-breaking, book-breaking work. Beilin opens her memoir of illness to the voices of others harmed by the IUD, a medical device that makes the writer's daily living and thinking into a story of autoimmune disease. Beilin and others who know the risks of being heard and treated as women include us in their generous acts of rage, empathy, gratitude, and information. Reading and writing are witchwork, transforming the isolation of suffering into a tender and common ground. This book reminds us that our bodies are sites of language we can trust and love and offer in forms more radical than we know."--Hilary Plum "In BLACKFISHING THE IUD, Caren Beilin takes on a crucial topic heretofore only broached in online forums--the serious, ongoing health problems associated with the copper IUD--and explodes her investigation into a creative work like no other: rich with wide-ranging references but also retaining the urgency and intimacy of raw, personal forum posts. Dissatisfied with the non-answers offered by medicine, Beilin seeks to understand the harm done by the IUD through philosophy, literature, and daily life. By writing the IUD through literature, philosophy, bookselling, and birdwatching, she identifies it as a problem that reaches far beyond 'women's health' into society at large."--Amy Berkowitz

Blackfishing the IUD

Fiction. Olivia Knox has womb duplicatum, a rare affliction of continuous menstruation. Blood--it is not just blood! --tumbles unstoppably during her freshman year at the University of Pennsylvania. This problem of excess--blood full of marbles and beans, something thick enough to be black, sometimes sick enough to be brown, sometimes wild, almost violet again--foregrounds Beilin's revision (queer and erotic) of Pennsylvania's foundations. Tracing a relationship between George Fox and William Penn, Bethlehem's industrial boom, Jewish suburbia and Amish farming, and the origins of surgical education in America, THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA convenes at the University of Pennsylvania, where Olivia Knox confronts a surgical solution. "Caren Beilin's prose isn't like other people's prose--or other people's anything. Her engine is the sentence, but it runs on fuel from other worlds. THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA is unhinged, just the thing to remove your skin. Everything will feel intense because it is. How many books can reroute your dreams like this?"--Ander Monson "A book from the future to be savored again and again."--Anne Marie Wirth Cauchon "No one writes like Caren Beilin. If Angela Carter got commingled with Gary Lutz in Lara Glenum's Miraculating Machine, they might have produced the kinds of sentences found in THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA. Part family gothic, part queer historiography, Beilin's book conjures a Pennsylvania made of butter, gelatin, and blood, a murderzone in which bleeding girls and boneless horses, patricides and founding fathers interpenetrate, become portmanteau creatures that gorge on taboo. Prepare to feel language at its most vandalous, its most painfully exciting. I had to read parts aloud, to use my mouth as a release valve, or I would have exploded on the spot. Finally, language has an orgasm."--Joanna Ruocco "The novel's prose is astonishing. An important new voice has just entered the literary party. Listen."--Lance Olsen

The University of Pennsylvania

"Remember when we were young and first dreamed of a life of writing? It would be like living as a spy, or in a movie. Life suddenly made sense and could be endured insofar as it could be written. Pain and humiliation could be used. People, good and evil, were characters. Everywhere clarified lush, miraculous images. Not a word, a moment, would be again lowly. In the center was the dream of the writing, taking shape as the unfolding encyclopedia of our lives--heroic, magical, wise. At some point, we actually began to live that life, yet with the humiliation and miraculousness warped. Our mothers and fathers are dead. Everything has burned or is gone with the wind. What remains is the encyclopedia, from which Caren Beilin's writings have been torn--more hallucinatory, masturbatory and sociopathic, while also more bold, brave and beautiful, than our minds once conceived. AMERICANS, GUESTS, OR US is the realization and destruction of the dream. And we are within it, animal and timeless: inhabitants, strangers, the writing, the vengeance; the heartrock of Earth's outer space." --Brandon Shimoda "Harsh and sexy and at all times uniquely American." --Jesse Bercowetz

Americans, Guests, Or Us

Literary Nonfiction. Women's Studies. "Here we are, in Spain." Caren Beilin's travelogue lays out a new path for the genre. SPAIN is sly cultural criticism (Blanchot to The Shining), feminist wink, post-breakup corrective, and portrait of the artist as a young mansplained woman. Our narrator finds herself, skeptically, at an artist residency in Spain, rendering her life into vivid fragments that pop and sting. With acerbic flair, Beilin swings an axe into the stuff of memoir. "I don't care to dine with anyone," she proclaims. Reader, pull up a chair. "While the other art colonists around her 'are making the world soft'--photographers setting day-long exposures and textile artists felting cocoons--Caren Beilin's SPAIN is hard: made and re-made in its mosaic shards. Abject, affronted and audacious, the resilient narrator, who incidentally might faint at a thought, if it's a rigorous thought, who might then rouse wherever, in the company of countryside sheep, is on the perilous cusp of insight on multiple fronts. She looks up from her book in her book to assert that form is a better heroine than Emma in Madame Bovary, and proceeds to 'read against what was happening.' The beginning of the end of fiction."--Brian Blanchfield "Caren Beilin's SPAIN is like a Hostel-ization of Ben Lerner's Leaving the Atocha Station. Beilin's protagonist isn't in Spain on a Fulbright. Rather, she's paying her own way at a dubious artist residency with the proceeds of a defunct relationship with an older, wealthy man. SPAIN is a fantastic, poetic and realistic account of travel in a post-travel world."--Chris Kraus "SPAIN is a genre-bending document of the narrator's female, migratory writing life through the wounded, binoculative, molested soul of her nipples. SPAIN is stuffed with poetic axing, bicycling, pussying, traveloguing, Rilke-ing, Claire Denis-ing, reading, anti-Spain-ing. This highly inventive, highly imaginative book relentlessly disrupts the contemporary order of memoir writing. Beilin goes to the moon and back, and is not afraid to be scandalous or poetic or whimsical or ethical at a moment's notice."--Vi Khi Nao

Spain

Gelatwirl is a novel that asks if there is a cure for childhood, and if gelatin is that cure.

Caren Beilin

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