A History of My Brief Body
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- $10.99
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- $10.99
Publisher Description
WINNER OF THE HUBERT EVANS NON-FICTION PRIZE
FINALIST FOR THE JIM DEVA PRIZE FOR WRITING THAT PROVOKES
FINALIST FOR THE GOVERNOR GENERAL'S LITERARY AWARD FOR NON-FICTION
FINALIST FOR THE LAMBDA LITERARY AWARD FOR GAY MEMOIR/BIOGRAPHY
NATIONAL BESTSELLER
A slim but electrifying debut memoir about the preciousness and precariousness of queer Indigenous life.
Opening with a tender letter to his kokum and memories of his early life on the Driftpile First Nation, Billy-Ray Belcourt delivers a searing account of Indigenous life that’s part love letter, part rallying cry.
With the lyricism and emotional power of his award-winning poetry, Belcourt cracks apart his history and shares it with us one fragment at a time. He shines a light on Canada’s legacy of colonial violence and the joy that flourishes in spite of it. He revisits sexual encounters, ruminates on first loves and first loves lost, and navigates the racial politics of gay hookup apps. Among the hard truths he distills, the outline of a brighter future takes shape.
Bringing in influences from James Baldwin to Ocean Vuong, this book is a testament to the power of language—to devastate us, to console us, to help us grieve, to help us survive. Destined to be dog-eared, underlined, treasured, and studied for years to come, A History of My Brief Body is a stunning achievement from one of this generation’s finest young minds.
APPLE BOOKS REVIEW
Being queer and indigenous is an emotional, social, and political experience—and Billy-Ray Belcourt explores all of these angles in his hard-hitting essay collection. Because the personal is political, Belcourt begins with his youth on the Driftpile Cree Nation reserve, where he feels like an outsider because of his sexuality. But this isn’t a book about being a victim. Belcourt faces down colonialism, racism, and homophobia with anger, defiance, and a burning belief in the salvation that beauty and love can bring. These essays are clearly the work of a poet: Pain and brutality mingle with flashes of awe-inspiring loveliness. (We were repeatedly reminded of Ocean Vuong’s similarly intense novel, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous.) You’ll be saddened and sometimes even infuriated, but when you hit a line like “To love someone is firstly to confess: I’m prepared to be devastated by you,” you’ll be inspired to sit in quiet contemplation.