As a person raised in a predominantly White, rural area in the Southern Hemisphere, notions of trustworthiness were taught via the parable of Moses and the Ten Commandments: thou shalt not steal, adult(er), kill, covet asses, etc.. But not as succinct as the Analects puts it – be trustworthy.
After neo-nazis smeared her front door with excrament, Lily Wurst fought back with the truth she felt she owed to the love of her life. Wurst revealed that the women she protected during WII weren’t just Jewish, they were also queer. And so was she. And so was her lover, Felice Schragenheim.
Its writers like N. K. Jemisin that remind you that the world didn’t stop writing when a bunch of old white people up and died in the late nineteenth century.
You can sacrificially burn the book after you’ve finished. But I personally am going to file it under ‘resources for outlining how straight men come to their privileged conclusions’.
Sip jasmine green tea in a quiet space while you explore this small but powerful little book.
It’s funny to think this book was printed in the year of the great Emu War of 1932 (no, really).
The Dublin slang alone is enough to keep you reading. Jaysus. Bollix. Banjaxed. Gobshite. Bleeding shitehawk: poetry to the profane ear.
Basicall, half of the epic is Gilgamesh missing his mate Enkidu and going on long adventures to prove his devotion to the bromance (*cough* romance *cough*). To prove his eternal love to Enky he goes looking for the secret to eternal life. No, that’s not a cliche. Because this epic literally did it first.