Maggie Nelson

A genre-bending memoir that offers fierce and fresh reflections on motherhood, desire, identity and feminism. At the centre is a love-story, between Nelson and the artist Harry Dodge, who is undergoing gender reassignment, while Nelson undergoes the transformations of pregnancy. Personal, honest and wide-ranging, Nelson explores the challenges and complexities that make up a modern family.

The Argonauts

An intrepid voyage out to the frontiers of the latest thinking about love, language, and family.

Maggie Nelson's The Argonauts is a genre-bending memoir, a work of "autotheory" offering fresh, fierce, and timely thinking about desire, identity, and the limitations and possibilities of love and language. At its center is a romance: the story of the author's relationship with the artist Harry Dodge. This story, which includes Nelson's account of falling in love with Dodge, who is fluidly gendered, as well as her journey to and through a pregnancy, offers a firsthand account of the complexities and joys of (queer) family-making.

Writing in the spirit of public intellectuals such as Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes, Nelson binds her personal experience to a rigorous exploration of what iconic theorists have said about sexuality, gender, and the vexed institutions of marriage and child-rearing. Nelson's insistence on radical individual freedom and the value of caretaking becomes the rallying cry of this thoughtful, unabashed, uncompromising book.

A Memoir

I finally read it and really enjoyed it. Some of the theory went over my head. I imagine someone with more of a background in it would give this a 5/5.

Sarah E

This was a challenging read. After this sits for a while, my rating my change

Sarah Erle

An intrepid voyage out to the frontiers of the latest thinking about love, language, and family Maggie Nelson's The Argonauts is a genre-bending memoir, a work of "autotheory" offering fresh, fierce, and timely thinking about desire, identity, and the limitations and possibilities of love and language. At its center is a romance: the story of the author's relationship with the artist Harry Dodge. This story, which includes Nelson's account of falling in love with Dodge, who is fluidly gendered, as well as her journey to and through a pregnancy, offers a firsthand account of the complexities and joys of (queer) family-making. Writing in the spirit of public intellectuals such as Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes, Nelson binds her personal experience to a rigorous exploration of what iconic theorists have said about sexuality, gender, and the vexed institutions of marriage and child-rearing. Nelson's insistence on radical individual freedom and the value of caretaking becomes the rallying cry of this thoughtful, unabashed, uncompromising book.

Makes theory seem so warm and inviting! Like the opposite of so much analysis I’ve read or been told all my life. It read really fast then slow, which I think was paced on purpose. The way Nelson speeds through her birthing process was neat, and helped engross me in flipping through the pages. I’ve owed August a read of this for so long and I’m so happy I finally did it!

Eli Alvah Huckabee

i loved the intimacy and glimpse into her private life but at times it felt too much for me. philosophical tangents pulled me out in parts but her personal life, specifically parts involving harry, sucked me back in. interesting read overall

the_basis_

book club #1

i loved the intimacy and glimpse into her private life but at times it felt too much for me. philosophical tangents pulled me out in parts but her personal life, specifically parts involving harry, sucked me back in. interesting read overall

Martha F.

Extraordinary. I wanted to swallow it whole. To read the whole thing again as soon as I finished. Maggie Nelson can turn a beautiful sentence. And make critical theory feel like an old friend. Brilliant.

File this as one of the most annotated books I own, and for good reason too. Straight up rocked my world. Will be the only thing I talk about for the next few months. 

Jacque

mina nayeri

Kendall McClain

I love Maggie Nelson’s writing style so much and blindly bought this because she wrote it, so imagine the joy I felt when I realized it is largely about queer identity politics! Made for me I love it

The overall thesis of this book is owed to Barthes’s autobiography where he supposes saying “I love you” as something akin to “the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name.” The metaphor is that, even if the parts of the boat are continuously tinkered, or perpetually altered, the boat’s identity remains the same. Barthes reflects on how the metaphor of the boat extends the job of language and love: “to give to the same phrase inflections which will be forever new.” To both Nelson and Barthes: “I love you” takes on a new freshness every time it is uttered. But the metaphor of the Argo, similar to the tale it is referencing, buoys and sinks from the text. There are parts where the narrative seems lost to the metaphor (or maybe it’s just me who can’t connect the metaphor to the grander scheme of things). The metaphor works best when it is used to explore Nelson’s fluidly gendered partner, Harry Dodge. Nelson narrates the tinkering of their own relationship, and how even through all the hard experiences, they both settled into each other.

There’s a deep exploration here about gender that I think warrants extensive discussion. Nelson offers generous space--not just for her but for the readers too--to interrogate the binary system, the categorical labeling of gender, and even motherhood. Nelson recognizes the surrounding discourse toward queer identities, and how it can be considered “politically maddening” to many people, especially those divorced (or intimately involved???) from the burden of being queer. She sums her stance best through this quote: “How does one get across the fact that the best way to find out how people feel about their gender or their sexuality—or anything else, really—is to listen to what they tell you, and to try to treat them accordingly, without shellacking over their version of reality with yours?”

There are times when Nelson becomes apologetic for intellectualizing her own experiences. She becomes self-critical of what she’s doing, probably in fear that other people might do it for her. I feel sad that she does this since this is a memoir after all. It’s supposed to be reflective, but I get how sometimes it could feel like intellectual masturbation because of the many abstractions and intangible jargon Nelson has conjured, plus some theories just feel as vacuous. It also doesn’t help that the narrative is disjointed. But even so, I still think that this book is an important meditation on queerness and motherhood. Nelson invites us to become accepting that there can be irresolution when it comes to queerness; not everything should be lined in categories, and that is the messy truth of it all.

Kent Reymark Tocayon

The overall thesis of this book is owed to Barthes’s autobiography where he supposes saying “I love you” as something akin to “the Argonaut renewing his ship during its voyage without changing its name.” The metaphor is that, even if the parts of the boat are continuously tinkered, or perpetually altered, the boat’s identity remains the same. Barthes reflects on how the metaphor of the boat extends the job of language and love: “to give to the same phrase inflections which will be forever new.” To both Nelson and Barthes: “I love you” takes on a new freshness every time it is uttered. But the metaphor of the Argo, similar to the tale it is referencing, buoys and sinks from the text. There are parts where the narrative seems lost to the metaphor (or maybe it’s just me who can’t connect the metaphor to the grander scheme of things). The metaphor works best when it is used to explore Nelson’s fluidly gendered partner, Harry Dodge. Nelson narrates the tinkering of their own relationship, and how even through all the hard experiences, they both settled into each other.

There’s a deep exploration here about gender that I think warrants extensive discussion. Nelson offers generous space--not just for her but for the readers too--to interrogate the binary system, the categorical labeling of gender, and even motherhood. Nelson recognizes the surrounding discourse toward queer identities, and how it can be considered “politically maddening” to many people, especially those divorced (or intimately involved???) from the burden of being queer. She sums her stance best through this quote: “How does one get across the fact that the best way to find out how people feel about their gender or their sexuality—or anything else, really—is to listen to what they tell you, and to try to treat them accordingly, without shellacking over their version of reality with yours?”

 

There are times when Nelson becomes apologetic for intellectualizing her own experiences. She becomes self-critical of what she’s doing, probably in fear that other people might do it for her. I feel sad that she does this since this is a memoir after all. It’s supposed to be reflective, but I get how sometimes it could feel like intellectual masturbation because of the many abstractions and intangible jargon Nelson has conjured, plus some theories just feel as vacuous. It also doesn’t help that the narrative is disjointed. But even so, I still think that this book is an important meditation on queerness and motherhood. Nelson invites us to become accepting that there can be irresolution when it comes to queerness; not everything should be lined in categories, and that is the messy truth of it all.

I can’t wait to reread this book multiple times throughout my life 

Tara

erin

Why didn’t I read this right when it came out? A deep pleasure to read. I love this sort of neither-memoir-nor-essay writing. 

It made me feel a lot of feels, but genuinely and without stilted pathos or melodrama. It’s pretentious as all fuck, make no mistake, but also direct in parts in a way that is rare and nice. 

The obsession with fucking bores me, but then again, I am myself.

Jeannette Ordas

3.5 stars. A slim book but weighty innards. I appreciated Nelson's frankness about motherhood, childbirth, and her life with her partner. Thoughtful.

Maddie

Such a lovely and tender look at the intertwined lives of family. The topic of gender fluidity is lovingly weaved in and addressed in smart fashion. Highly recommend!

Amy Thibodeau

This book didn't serve up what I was expecting it to, but it was pretty great nonetheless. I learned that my ideas of diversity are incredibly limited, much more limited than I ever gave myself credit for.

My biggest criticism is that the structure of the book is so loose that it can be hard to follow. Also, I wish some of the philosophers and critics that are quoted were rendered in a more accessible, simple form since many readers won't have the benefit of having thought about their ideas before and there's a pretty big leap to understanding.

** read for my media class

prob would have liked it more if it wasn't assigned reading

Katie Chua

I’m a sucker for theory. This book confuses me though, which I suppose I like. When trying to research heteronormativity / heterosexuality as an institution, this book kept coming up. However, what I found most interesting was the idea of homonormativity

Kira L

first queer reading (can’t think of a better way to word this yet, brain dead) and very insightful

A groundbreaking memoir that offers fresh and fierce reflections on motherhood, desire, gender, identity and feminism. At the centre of The Argonauts is the love story between Maggie Nelson and the artist Harry Dodge, who is fluidly gendered. As Nelson undergoes the transformations of pregnancy, she explores the challenges and complexities of mothering and queer family making. Writing in the tradition of public intellectuals like Susan Sontag, Nelson uses arresting prose even as she questions the limits of language. The Argonauts is an intrepid voyage out to the frontiers of love, language, and family.

Fraser Simons

While tracing the conception and birth of a child, the author expresses a lot of different thoughts, typically on the intersection of queer culture, sex, patriarchy, and feminist issues. 

It is unabashedly expressive and earnest, with subjects being brought up and returned to throughout and are thematic with the overall journey. It struck me that it simulates a prevalent stereotype of pregnant women, where their minds are scatterbrained. Only the random thoughts are much more cohesive and, often, quite profound, even as they feel rapid fire and random in the moment.

Francis Buggey

i have to come back and rate this later, have to collect my thoughts

Donald

I bought this for my wife when it came out, and she never read it. I picked it up on a whim while waiting for my daughter to finish doing something. It's sort of interesting as an object of study: how good and decent feelings of love and family can overcome even the most life-denying ideology. It's a little startling to read someone who not only avows Judith Butler/queer theory/etc but actually tries to live it.

It's also funny how dated this book already is, since the cultural-sexual-political project it espouses more or less 'won' in the time since the book was written (with the predictable attendant misery).

Another thought: I'd rather not learn about the sexual proclivities of strangers (or really, anyone). Save it for your spouse. The making public what ought to be private de-eroticizes sex. Not to mention the stuff about sex and children. (Ever notice how pederasts like Ginsberg are treated like heroes?)

Finally, there's a disturbing paragraph in which she affirms 1) life begins at conception and 2) abortion is good. Lord, have mercy.

Athena Eloy

There is an eloquence and intensity with which Maggie Nelson addresses myriad topics in this work: a/gender and its fluidity; sexuality; feminism (namely of the white variety). During these moments of reflection and intellectual exploration, Nelson writes sublime criticism that dares to be prose poetry. This intensity and focus and deliberateness, however, is wholly lacking whenever topics of race come up, or when identity is collapsed to disinclude people of color. I had high hopes going into this work but left feeling unsatisfied and as though I had read yet another account of feminism/queerness/radical-ness that did not leave space for people of color.

Paige Carter

This book started a little bit haphazard for me. I felt like all the stories were unrelated and did not go together as I was reading. But as I got to the end I was so engrossed in the story that was being told. I could feel her emotions as I read some of the deeper passages in the book. Everything seemed to come together and leave behind some really amazing experiences to for me to share about identity, family, motherhood, and so much more.

Abigail Schreider

Una caricia para un alma recientemente madura en este 2021. this book can talk about so many things deeply, love, companionship, motherhood, perfection. Its the type of essays we should read several times in our lifes cause it makes you reflect on yourself at all moments.

The Argonauts

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