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livbarry's review against another edition
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
2.0
“I used to run a blog” ….. yes Lena Dunham incarnate, we could tell.
I don’t even know where to begin. To start with the good: I thought that the passages about the author and her mother were profound and really beautiful. Grief is almost always striking to me, and this was no different. As someone raised Catholic, religious extremism and being LGBTQ+ will never not interest me as a writing topic. However, this was one of the very few compelling moments. I also quite enjoyed the conclusion - lesbian bars are necessary, and are thus spreading - but I think anymore with a brain who undertook this project could’ve come to the same conclusion.
The author almost seemed like a social recluse with how out of touch she was with modern LGBTQ+ audiences, to be honest. She chalks this up to COVID, but that’s not much of an excuse when her prose reads as if she is a terminally online, judgmental millennial who constantly gets into petty discourse. The judgment present took me aback; I didn’t expect this to me a travel book/memoir from its marketing, and none of the memoirs I’ve ever read have had this severe judgment passed against TOTAL STRANGERS present simply because she surrounded herself with people who treated her poorly. I don’t even know where to begin in this regard… every instance became more egregious than the next….assuming a random person in community with the owners of a black establishment would say the n-word… assuming any masculine person would automatically be “femmephobic” (venmo me $15 to know what my real thoughts on that are, because I will not be publishing that for free on the internet)… the TWO PARAGRAPHS dedicated to “pin gays” (??????!?!??). I am astounded how this passed through an editor. Eventually, her assumptions about ’ racism and biphobia eventually just reads as if she is the one who actually believes those things. I won’t go into any real detail about this publicly (I’ll gladly discuss if I actually know you), but her perception of identity is somehow lesphobic, biphobic, and transphobic at the same time.
It is exhausting to read this brand of millennial’s thoughts on anything, let alone when this book is marketed as JOURNALISTIC NONFICTION. As a journalist, there are only so many times I can read about someone lamenting their fear of approaching strangers before I just get intensely BORED. Find some new material. Please. Write a memoir! Keep publishing your blog! For the sake of all journalists - TELL YOUR PUBLISHERS TO STOP ADVERTISING THIS AS INFORMATIONAL!!!!!!
I don’t even know where to begin. To start with the good: I thought that the passages about the author and her mother were profound and really beautiful. Grief is almost always striking to me, and this was no different. As someone raised Catholic, religious extremism and being LGBTQ+ will never not interest me as a writing topic. However, this was one of the very few compelling moments. I also quite enjoyed the conclusion - lesbian bars are necessary, and are thus spreading - but I think anymore with a brain who undertook this project could’ve come to the same conclusion.
The author almost seemed like a social recluse with how out of touch she was with modern LGBTQ+ audiences, to be honest. She chalks this up to COVID, but that’s not much of an excuse when her prose reads as if she is a terminally online, judgmental millennial who constantly gets into petty discourse. The judgment present took me aback; I didn’t expect this to me a travel book/memoir from its marketing, and none of the memoirs I’ve ever read have had this severe judgment passed against TOTAL STRANGERS present simply because she surrounded herself with people who treated her poorly. I don’t even know where to begin in this regard… every instance became more egregious than the next….assuming a random person in community with the owners of a black establishment would say the n-word… assuming any masculine person would automatically be “femmephobic” (venmo me $15 to know what my real thoughts on that are, because I will not be publishing that for free on the internet)… the TWO PARAGRAPHS dedicated to “pin gays” (??????!?!??). I am astounded how this passed through an editor. Eventually, her assumptions about ’ racism and biphobia eventually just reads as if she is the one who actually believes those things. I won’t go into any real detail about this publicly (I’ll gladly discuss if I actually know you), but her perception of identity is somehow lesphobic, biphobic, and transphobic at the same time.
It is exhausting to read this brand of millennial’s thoughts on anything, let alone when this book is marketed as JOURNALISTIC NONFICTION. As a journalist, there are only so many times I can read about someone lamenting their fear of approaching strangers before I just get intensely BORED. Find some new material. Please. Write a memoir! Keep publishing your blog! For the sake of all journalists - TELL YOUR PUBLISHERS TO STOP ADVERTISING THIS AS INFORMATIONAL!!!!!!
Content Warnings
Graphic: Biphobia, Transphobia, and Lesbophobia
reedingthroughtheyear's review against another edition
5.0
I am writing this review through honest-to-God-tears, after having stared blankly at the last line of this book and my kindle screen for five minutes.
This book was enthralling. I came to this book — as a lesbian, as someone who lives in Chicago, and is friends with two of the lesbian bar owners here — with my own pre-conceived notions about lesbian spaces. Krista Burton’s Moby Dyke affirmed some notions, dispelled and challenged others.
Moby Dyke invited and welcomed me into all of these diverse yet universal queer spaces around the country in such a way that I became addicted. I devoured this book in two days. I laughed along with her witty repertoire of insights throughout, yet also found myself crying at some of the more tender parts of this work.
As a woman who left Christian extremism (and a religion, who as Krista so eloquently stated, was more cult-like than not), leaving behind a family system that often feels like a gaping wound, those moments of personal disclosure around the writer’s own family dynamic felt particularly poignant.
Who gets to access spaces meant for lesbians and queer individuals? What does “all are welcome” truly mean and how do we keep these spaces safe for those that have so few spaces left? I am not sure this book answers this as I’m not sure there is a byline there to give. The closest it comes is this passage that was particularly affirming for me:
“It is a lesbian bar. To not call this a lesbian bar does a disservice to the reason the bar was created. This bar was built decades ago to be a safe space for lesbians. This is not a gay bar. This is a lesbian bar, and to ignore that is erasure.”
I felt it encapsulated what I want the answer to be — that being inclusive and welcoming to other identities does not mean we forget the need for lesbian community. It’s history, the fight for visibility, and belonging. Or, the ways in which lesbian women, both white and in particular lesbians of color, are treated currently, even by our sibling identities within the LGBTQIA community.
Let’s just say I have a few lesbian bars added to my travel wish list. I was additionally delighted to read of all the lesbian bar openings that were announced in the epilogue. How hopeful — and important. Which, is how I feel about this book. It is ultimately, so hopeful and important.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Simon & Schuster for an ARC of this title.
This book was enthralling. I came to this book — as a lesbian, as someone who lives in Chicago, and is friends with two of the lesbian bar owners here — with my own pre-conceived notions about lesbian spaces. Krista Burton’s Moby Dyke affirmed some notions, dispelled and challenged others.
Moby Dyke invited and welcomed me into all of these diverse yet universal queer spaces around the country in such a way that I became addicted. I devoured this book in two days. I laughed along with her witty repertoire of insights throughout, yet also found myself crying at some of the more tender parts of this work.
As a woman who left Christian extremism (and a religion, who as Krista so eloquently stated, was more cult-like than not), leaving behind a family system that often feels like a gaping wound, those moments of personal disclosure around the writer’s own family dynamic felt particularly poignant.
Who gets to access spaces meant for lesbians and queer individuals? What does “all are welcome” truly mean and how do we keep these spaces safe for those that have so few spaces left? I am not sure this book answers this as I’m not sure there is a byline there to give. The closest it comes is this passage that was particularly affirming for me:
“It is a lesbian bar. To not call this a lesbian bar does a disservice to the reason the bar was created. This bar was built decades ago to be a safe space for lesbians. This is not a gay bar. This is a lesbian bar, and to ignore that is erasure.”
I felt it encapsulated what I want the answer to be — that being inclusive and welcoming to other identities does not mean we forget the need for lesbian community. It’s history, the fight for visibility, and belonging. Or, the ways in which lesbian women, both white and in particular lesbians of color, are treated currently, even by our sibling identities within the LGBTQIA community.
Let’s just say I have a few lesbian bars added to my travel wish list. I was additionally delighted to read of all the lesbian bar openings that were announced in the epilogue. How hopeful — and important. Which, is how I feel about this book. It is ultimately, so hopeful and important.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Simon & Schuster for an ARC of this title.
strawbrifieldsforever's review against another edition
funny
hopeful
informative
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
4.25
paigewajda's review against another edition
4.0
A kind of sapphic true-life Hallmark story, Moby Dyke does get a bit repetitive and the writer is very much hung up on everyone's ages (the phrase 'baby dyke' is written about 9000 times) but like a cup of soup on a sick day, I found that this really warmed my soul. It's charming, in-depth, funny, and full of lovable bartenders and patrons, and it really makes me want to visit the Midwest, which is a sentence I never thought I would type. I particularly like the injections of memoir we get periodically; Burton relays tales from her childhood, coming out, and the slow reconcile with her Mormon parents, which was particularly tender and well-written.
luckyonesoph's review against another edition
slow-paced
1.5
I had such high hopes for this, but I was so disappointed.
I immediately fell in love with the concept of this book, and the introduction chapter introduces some really interesting questions about the changing landscape of queer spaces, about how queer people are perceived by other queers, and about how welcoming (or not) queer spaces can be depending on identity expression. Unfortunately, I think the author was trying too hard to do too many things at once. She tried to combine her memoir with a travelogue with an academic-ish study of queer spaces, and the end result is just a poorly executed version of all three. Any attempt at analysis was extremely surface level, to the point that the author seemed ignorant at best, prejudiced at worst. And, i found that a lot of discussion surrounding queer culture was so broad that certain practices/elements were incorrectly presented as immutable fact, rather than given the nuance they deserved. Writing a book that is supposedly about queer culture and lesbian spaces at a community level, and then making it mostly about yourself and your experiences and your understandings, is not an effective way to connect with your audience.
I immediately fell in love with the concept of this book, and the introduction chapter introduces some really interesting questions about the changing landscape of queer spaces, about how queer people are perceived by other queers, and about how welcoming (or not) queer spaces can be depending on identity expression. Unfortunately, I think the author was trying too hard to do too many things at once. She tried to combine her memoir with a travelogue with an academic-ish study of queer spaces, and the end result is just a poorly executed version of all three. Any attempt at analysis was extremely surface level, to the point that the author seemed ignorant at best, prejudiced at worst. And, i found that a lot of discussion surrounding queer culture was so broad that certain practices/elements were incorrectly presented as immutable fact, rather than given the nuance they deserved. Writing a book that is supposedly about queer culture and lesbian spaces at a community level, and then making it mostly about yourself and your experiences and your understandings, is not an effective way to connect with your audience.
fedoratheexplora's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
medium-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Moderate: Homophobia, Death of parent, and Lesbophobia
elijahbit's review against another edition
funny
lighthearted
reflective
5.0
Funny. Laugh out loud so. Sweet and pretty and made me try once, in the scene with the country bar dance.
shecastspells's review against another edition
2.0
I found this book pretty disappointing. I was extremely excited to read it but the execution left something to be desired. The voice of the book read more like reading someone’s diary and was honestly exhausting to read. The descriptions of each of the bars tended to run together until there was nothing distinctive between each of the visits, and it feels like we lose the plot on why she’s doing this in the first place other than to go to all of these bars. It’s hard to pin down what type of book this is supposed to be: is it a travelogue, a memoir, investigative journalism? She introduces compelling subjects to explore in her introduction such as how will she be treated in these spaces when she is with her husband vs when she is alone, and how will her husband be treated, and this topic is never mentioned again. She spends a significant amount of time on how she believes others perceive her and feeling isolated from the queer community because she is femme presenting, and in her introduction talks about how she doesn’t care for her previous blog work because of her assumptions that everyone is gay in the same way she is, and then spends the entire book describing people in stereotypical ways and making broad statements about the queer community as a whole. Overall I found the book lacking. The most enjoyable aspects were the memoir portions, that’s were her writing shone, and I think Burton could write an excellent memoir about what it is to be queer and Mormon in the Midwest, which would resonate with so many.
coralinejones's review against another edition
The author is so fucking judgy of other queer people it's frustrating the fuck out of me. I could tell from when this began that there would be less about actual lesbian bars and more about the author's unnecessary opinions on... EVERYTHING. I don't care enough about her white, millennial, buzzfeed-like humor to slog through this.
I read other low-rated reviews and I agree with all of them; I learned what to expect from the rest of this and I'm not looking forward to it so DNF.
I would LOVE a book like this from someone else who actually has insight on journalism and interviewing.
I read other low-rated reviews and I agree with all of them; I learned what to expect from the rest of this and I'm not looking forward to it so DNF.
I would LOVE a book like this from someone else who actually has insight on journalism and interviewing.