Reviews with content warning for Death of parent - The Secret to Superhuman Strength

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The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel

23 reviews

clarabooksit's review against another edition

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funny reflective slow-paced

3.0

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nmcannon's review against another edition

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emotional funny reflective slow-paced

4.0

After enjoying Dykes to Watch Out For, Fun Home and Are You My Mother?, Bechdel’s latest The Secret to Superhuman Strength was an instant borrow from the library. In her latest memoir, Bechdel chronicles her relationship to her body, from age 0 onwards.

Like with her other works, she twines her relationship with something else: in this case, the USA’s fitness fads, Buddhism, and transcendentalism/romanticism/the Beat generation (especially Margaret Fuller). Unlike her previous works, The Secret to Superhuman Strength is in full color, and wow! The pop! I enjoyed the added depth to Bechdel’s tender, forceful line work. This book is more tactile than Are You My Mother?, and Bechdel’s more earthly themes meant my reading experience didn’t feel like a dream. I also skipped the martinis, haha. The sections on literary figures and movements brought a nostalgic smile to my face.

However, for the first time ever, I was frustrated with Bechdel. As like, a fellow person. Early in the memoir, she comments that people often don’t want what they say they do. That is to say, even when they have the time and means, people don’t take actions towards their stated goals. My mind kept returning to that phrase, because Bechdel’s living it. In her 20s, Bechdel takes some magic mushrooms and experiences an intense, overwhelming connectedness with the world. She states she loves this feeling and wants to experience it again. Until the last page of the book, she desires this “high” and, when it doesn’t happen, wails, laments, moans etc. Despite repeatedly saying she wants this experience, she doesn’t ever like…go for it?

I wanted to shake her. Girl. The answer is obvious. If you interpret that connectedness as the result of chemical reactions in the brain, take some more magic mushrooms. You’re white and live in the woods. The cops won’t get you. If you interpret that connectedness as a spiritual experience, commit to a spiritual practice. Bechdel references Buddhism and other Eastern religions multiple times in the book. She seems to have a great respect for these ways of thinking. Yet, when she meets believers, she disparages them. Though some “Buddhists” are racist cultural appropriators, others are legit. If I squinted, I guess the tone indicates she regrets her actions. These sections made me uncomfortable. The memoir’s conclusion goes so far as to say that Buddhism is wrong: there’s no nirvana, only the physical world. This assertion seems incredibly rude. She went to them for solace. And then she has the gall to insult them? Geez.

My other concern was about the exercise itself. Bizarrely, I think Bechdel needs new doctors? I know other readers were concerned about fatphobia in a book about physical fitness. Bechdel’s writing isn’t fatphobic in my opinion. However, I think she’s suffering from fatphobic care. Obviously, I’m not privy to her doctor visits or full healthcare regimen. Her mental health isn’t a focus of the memoir. What rung my alarms was Bechdel mentioning she can’t sleep if she fails to exercise intensely during the day. My friend has a similar problem. Her anxiety is so bad that she has to run twelve miles a day so she can sleep at night. She’s skinny as a stick from the running, so when she visits fatphobic doctors, they tell her to keep up the running and refuse to prescribe her anxiety medication. The potential parallels to Bechdel’s life bothered me greatly. That, and her tendency to throw herself into these intense regimens. She goes from no karate to karate every day. She ditches running to cycle for far and so fast her body runs out of glycogen. She sets out to climb a mountain without proper training, licensing, or equipment. Nature seems more an outdoor gym to her than, yanno. Nature.

As stated above, I’m not an exercise fanatic. I wouldn’t describe myself as an outdoorswoman, though I do enjoy the occasional hike and was on a sports team in high school. I don’t know all the details of Bechdel’s health, so what I felt as creeping horror may be totally normal. Generally I find it poor form to speculate on an author’s mental health with any seriousness. The reason I included my thoughts on the topic is my friend asked me to evaluate the book for fatphobia. Maybe Bechdel and I are just too different of people? She had to work through her fear of death. If I die, I die. Maybe I wasn’t in the right mindset to read this memoir because I’d just finished Erin Williams’ Commute: An Illustrated Memoir of Female Shame, which left me low-key exasperated.

Listen. The Secret to Superhuman Strength is by Alison Bechdel. Obviously, you should read it. Looking at the other reviews, my uneven experience is an outlier. Despite all the weirdness, this book more than earns its four stars.

For reference, here are my reviews of the other titles I mentioned:

Review of Commute: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/2174041b-9687-4215-b60a-b7074740e30f

Review of Dykes to Watch Out For: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/f33a620e-242c-4c24-83b8-7e596d7ba780

Review of Fun Home: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/e14f2cb6-d409-44ee-8d1c-9411dd442ecd

Review of Are You My Mother?: https://app.thestorygraph.com/reviews/c55cfd20-464d-4e7e-bada-28d3c388e031

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anna_hepworth's review

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challenging reflective slow-paced

5.0

As with Bechdel's previous memoirs, this gently paced narrative interweaves the personal with wider literary and historical references that resonate with the theme of the book. I'm only familiar with some of the references, but enough context is provided for that not to matter (although the context is not always provided with the first reference, so rereading is probably going to provide me with a better feel)

I love that Bechdel told their story of seeking for enlightenment through their serial loves for exercise regimes and sports, along with the whys and wherefores of starting and stopping each one (and that they acknowledge that there are several such that didn't make it in to the book)

In terms of difficult to read sections -- Bechdel has not shied away from discussing their maladaptive uses of alcohol, nor the trouble that being a workaholic has brought. There are also mentions of the deaths of Bechdel's parents -- one by suicide and the other to cancer.

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doggamn's review against another edition

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adventurous emotional funny informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

4.25

Approximately 10 years after reading Fun Home for the very first time, I discovered Bechdel had a new book and I picked it up from the library.
I read Are You My Mother? a few years back and loved it, relating to the interwovenness of Bechdel's life with her mother's. The Secret to Superhuman Strength was a bit less catered to me, being largely about exercise and learning about one's own strengths and limitations, but once I got past that, I started to really enjoy it.

Bechdel published this book as she neared 60, and I read it as I near 30 (a little over a year away for me). The book is part memoir, part biography, and part musings on Bechdel's place in the world and how she slots in with the rest of the planet's inhabitants/terrain. Superhuman Strength piqued my interest with its looks at athletic trends from the past decade, Buddhism and spirituality in general, discussion of the lives and vocations of famous writers, and--perhaps most of all--Bechdel's relationship with her own mortality.

As someone whose body has been at odds with themself, I related strongly to Bechdel lamenting losing the ability to perform some of her former activities due to physical strains and injuries. I recently accepted that I am disabled, with chronic pain and mental illness both contributing to many days of muddied thoughts. I've been trying lately to not resent my own body for failing me at times, keeping me couch-ridden with back pain and nausea. Raleigh and I recently started taking walks fairly regularly and I've commented to him a few times now about how frustrating it is to realize that exercise actually does help with a lot of issues. I feel inspired after reading Bechdel's book and seeing her illustrations (which still thrill me); I want to maintain a relationship to my body and nurture it by exploring. I want to spend more time outside of the city/suburbs and take in nature, allowing myself to feel small.

I want to feel more oneness with my self and the world around me, and to navigate life more thoughtfully.

Onward to the grave!

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