I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself
A Novel
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3.9 • 16 Ratings
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- $12.99
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- $12.99
Publisher Description
Finalist for the Lambda Literary Awards
Finalist for the Libby Book Awards
Dept. of Speculation meets Black Mirror in this lyrical, speculative debut about a queer mother raising her daughter in an unjust surveillance state
In a United States not so unlike our own, the Department of Balance has adopted a radical new form of law enforcement: rather than incarceration, wrongdoers are given a second (and sometimes, third, fourth, and fifth) shadow as a reminder of their crime—and a warning to those they encounter. Within the Department, corruption and prejudice run rampant, giving rise to an underclass of so-called Shadesters who are disenfranchised, publicly shamed, and deprived of civil rights protections.
Kris is a Shadester and a new mother to a baby born with a second shadow of her own. Grieving the loss of her wife and thoroughly unprepared for the reality of raising a child alone, Kris teeters on the edge of collapse, fumbling in a daze of alcohol, shame, and self-loathing. Yet as the kid grows, Kris finds her footing, raising a child whose irrepressible spark cannot be dampened by the harsh realities of the world. She can’t forget her wife, but with time, she can make a new life for herself and the kid, supported by a community of fellow misfits who defy the Department to lift one another up in solidarity and hope.
With a first-person register reminiscent of the fierce self-disclosure of Sheila Heti and the poetic precision of Ocean Vuong, I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself is a bold debut novel that examines the long shadow of grief, the hard work of parenting, and the power of queer resistance.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
A new widow raises her child in a surveillance state where wrongdoers are given an extra shadow for every transgression in Crane's astonishing and deeply felt debut. When Kris's wife, Beau, dies in childbirth, their newborn child, known only as "the kid" until the very end, is immediately given a second shadow by the Department of Balance for causing Beau's death. This makes the kid a Shadester—a second-class citizen who will be ostracized and surveilled for life, presumed to have behavioral problems by teachers, and overtaxed as an adult. Kris, who has grappled for years with shame over her own second shadow, must now navigate her fears about single parenthood and come to terms with her overwhelming grief. A poetic sensibility shines through Kris's narration, which is all directed toward Beau ("I want to swallow the moment and keep it in my burning belly, but I have my wrong mouth on—I am wearing the mouth that speaks without thinking"). Crane brings their impressive imagination to the speculative details, which convey a great deal of thoughtfulness about how the second shadows affect people differently depending on their intersecting identities. They also treat their diverse cast with complexity and compassion. As the kid grows from infancy to grade school age and deals with bullies at school, Crane poignantly shows how public shaming often has more to do with cruelty and control than justice, and the rebellious, headstrong, and searching child protagonist emerges as one to remember. The author's profound maturity shines as they interrogate the creation of family, criminalization, and queer resistance. Readers will be moved and electrified.
