ericawrites's review against another edition
4.0
The best parts of this book are her as an adult and seeing how she approaches her work. Which means it took me a while. The book ends with her work around Occupy Wall Street, Gitmo, and Syria, which felt surreal today.
melaninny's review against another edition
4.0
Listening to this book was a journey for me, in a way that I'm unused to. Molly Crabapple is a wonderfully outspoken artist and activist, with an illustrative art style and an eviscerating writing style.
When I started listening, I thought I hated her. She writes about her teen years in a painfully arrogant way. Crabapple does not deal judgment on herself for the way she thought, felt, or acted in her past--she does not analyze, or excuse, or apologize for who she was, except with a few poignant lines once in a while. When speaking of wearing her visits to Morocco as a sort of badge of honor, she says that she was using "other people’s homes as a proving ground." It took me a while to realize that this was a painfully honest way to represent her past self, and creates an authentic story of growth.
Crabapple is in her early thirties now, which means she grew up in the 90s. This is the first piece of writing I know of that treats this time period with the same nostalgia that others now ascribe to days long past. She romanticizes the past like her greatest writer heroes, creating a gritty world, as distant as it is memorable, as real as a fading photograph. Its a strange and fascinating lens with which to look at the world only twenty years past.
She talks about art as a lifeline, as real to her as her own blood. Linearly, she talks about her lovers, abortion, botched friendships, and sorry attempts at gallery openings. She's an angry and avid feminist, and treats the way women are undervalued as fact rather than speculation. It is fact, of course, but it's so rare to have someone speak about our struggles so blatantly. "When I thought of every proposition or threat that I got just walking down the street in my girl body, I decided I might as well get paid for the trouble," she says of her entry into sex work.
Over the course of the narrative Crabapple evolves from an arrogant and unhappy teenage traveler, to a struggling artist working in the sex industry, to an activist in her own right. She extols and admires her journalist friends, and in so doing, she becomes one, and makes that identity her own, becoming the inspiration that she found in others.
I listened to the audiobook, and Jorjeana Marie does an admirable job of translating the gravitas of the memoir to her narration style. I found her imperfect, however, and it was difficult to get used to her voice. Her nose sounds largely blocked and it stilts the words. If I ever return to Drawing Blood, it will probably be to physically read it, not listen this version again.
When I started listening, I thought I hated her. She writes about her teen years in a painfully arrogant way. Crabapple does not deal judgment on herself for the way she thought, felt, or acted in her past--she does not analyze, or excuse, or apologize for who she was, except with a few poignant lines once in a while. When speaking of wearing her visits to Morocco as a sort of badge of honor, she says that she was using "other people’s homes as a proving ground." It took me a while to realize that this was a painfully honest way to represent her past self, and creates an authentic story of growth.
Crabapple is in her early thirties now, which means she grew up in the 90s. This is the first piece of writing I know of that treats this time period with the same nostalgia that others now ascribe to days long past. She romanticizes the past like her greatest writer heroes, creating a gritty world, as distant as it is memorable, as real as a fading photograph. Its a strange and fascinating lens with which to look at the world only twenty years past.
She talks about art as a lifeline, as real to her as her own blood. Linearly, she talks about her lovers, abortion, botched friendships, and sorry attempts at gallery openings. She's an angry and avid feminist, and treats the way women are undervalued as fact rather than speculation. It is fact, of course, but it's so rare to have someone speak about our struggles so blatantly. "When I thought of every proposition or threat that I got just walking down the street in my girl body, I decided I might as well get paid for the trouble," she says of her entry into sex work.
Over the course of the narrative Crabapple evolves from an arrogant and unhappy teenage traveler, to a struggling artist working in the sex industry, to an activist in her own right. She extols and admires her journalist friends, and in so doing, she becomes one, and makes that identity her own, becoming the inspiration that she found in others.
I listened to the audiobook, and Jorjeana Marie does an admirable job of translating the gravitas of the memoir to her narration style. I found her imperfect, however, and it was difficult to get used to her voice. Her nose sounds largely blocked and it stilts the words. If I ever return to Drawing Blood, it will probably be to physically read it, not listen this version again.
idrees2022's review against another edition
5.0
A riveting memoir by the incomparable Molly Crabapple. As a portrait of the artist as a young woman, this surpasses Patti Smith's "Just Kids" since unlike Smith, whose stories are brought to life by celebrity cameos, Crabapple's is made compelling by the earthiness of the mostly ordinary people and their various personal or political struggles. Where Smith's book is insular, at times parochial, MC's scope is broader, ranging from the deeply personal to the global and political. The stories are presented as a succession of vignettes crafted with the same attention detail that is characteristic of MC's art. (The book is illustrated with some of her finest artwork). Once you pick it up, you'll find it impossible to put down.
audaciaray's review against another edition
4.0
Wow. There are so many different things for me to say about this book. It was an odd reading experience because Molly is a peer I have a lot of respect for, and during a chunk of years she writes about we traveled in nearby circles (full disclosure, I make a brief appearance in the book). We had slightly different experiences of the same time period but I loved seeing the early 2000s NYC through her eyes. The main thing I've been chewing on in the days since I finished reading the book is the prominence of girl loves and inspiring female artist peers in the book, it's worth the read just for the writing about those relationships - but really it's also so so much more.
jawjuhh's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars. Molly Crabapple has had an immensely interesting life and I quite enjoyed the illustrations.
storiwa's review against another edition
4.0
I'm not sure how long I've been a fan of Molly Crabapple's work. It was prior to her Week in Hell project. I think I must have stumbled across her on Twitter and began following her because of her smart and sharp Tweets. I was also interested because of the subversive and glamorous aspect of what her life seemed to be like as revealed by her art of that time.
Reading her book has only solidified my high regard for her and the way she creates. It details her transition as an artist and as a person. The book is also a powerful glimpse into our recent history, mostly in America but also abroad.
Reading her book has only solidified my high regard for her and the way she creates. It details her transition as an artist and as a person. The book is also a powerful glimpse into our recent history, mostly in America but also abroad.
graventy's review against another edition
5.0
Another great biography of a person I knew nothing about! Crabapple is a feminist artist who has lived a fascinating life. I wish it had more art, as frequently it was referencing things that she would sketch or draw and not show pictures!
elisecoz's review
5.0
I knew this would be a staff pick for me well before page 100. This is one of those books that caught my attention fast and hard. The cover caught my attention as I shelved it. I see hundreds of books everyday, but this one just begged to be read. On the clock, there really isn't time to peruse the shelves, so I didn't even have time to read the flap copy fully. Still, I'm so happy I bought this book. First off, it's a book that reminds you of the fact that books are investments in a sense. They are objects, and they should be beautiful in their own right. Molly Crabapple's status as an artist makes that idea all the more important. The end papers are gorgeous too. You can tell that the designer and Crabapple worked hard on every detail, and I really appreciated it.
Moving on to what's in the book. Molly Crabapple has accomplished something pretty significant and incredibly difficult. She touches on many polarizing subjects throughout Drawing Blood, yet her writing never feels preachy. Could that be because I agree with her on essentially everything she wrote on? Absolutely. Still, I found it impressive how she never felt condescending when she clearly knows so much about topics of which I know little. Rather, her descriptions on the Occupy movement were accessible. Her language was always appropriate for the subject, using higher diction when necessary, but sticking mostly to lower diction and conversational tones.
Additionally, I was impressed with how many topics she touched on. Her art functioned as the connective tissue for all the different parts of her life she drew: the sex trade, 9/11, feminism, Occupy, Guantanamo, traveling, and the recession, among other topics. If you told me all of those elements could live within one book successfully, I would not believe you, but here I am, sitting in my bed, just having read the exact book to accomplish that feat.
On a line by line basis, Crabapple is a gorgeous writer. She flexes different muscles depending on the topic at hand. She can be tragically romantic or precisely journalistic. Through it all, her art makes this memoir stand out as one I'm sure I won't forget. When I read Jonathon Safron Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I loved the book, but I found myself skimming over the graphics a bit. I know from friend's stories that that was not the case for everyone, but I guess I tend to shy away from illustration and graphics in longer works. But in this one I found myself studying each image, eyes darting around to new, undiscovered details, trying to absorb it. I loved how Crabapple's illustrative style carried through the novel, bringing the different pieces together and always feeling appropriate for the accompanying writing.
So basically, this is one of the freshest, most relevant memoirs of our current time, and one that has so many access points. I came for the art, but I know others who might have more interest in the activism. This is a book that I'm not shy about recommending because I think it manages to make bold statements yet has the power to please a crowd. Add the sex appeal of nude modeling, and there's not much more a reader could want.
A few of my favorite lines:
"After, I lay on the floor with my eyes closed, imagining each moment with Anthony falling over me like a snowflake. Some were as innocent as water. Others were acid. I wondered how they would burn."
"We love the violence in others that we cannot do ourselves. We imagine what it would be like to be that brave."
The entire section from page 169-170. She switches to the second person and it WORKS.
"Humbert's words felt as real for a nightclub as for a girl." (If you love Lolita, you will LOVE the reference in this section.)
Check out the illustration on page 250 if you're in a bookstore because it gives a great idea of her activist artwork.
"Time has to pass. And you have to look into what comes next, after ecstasy, with courage and clear eyes and a taste for infinite hard work."
"It couldn't speak, only gesture. In that moment, I hated the muteness of art."
Please read this book. You will love it, I promise. (That's bold, but I think I'm right.)
Moving on to what's in the book. Molly Crabapple has accomplished something pretty significant and incredibly difficult. She touches on many polarizing subjects throughout Drawing Blood, yet her writing never feels preachy. Could that be because I agree with her on essentially everything she wrote on? Absolutely. Still, I found it impressive how she never felt condescending when she clearly knows so much about topics of which I know little. Rather, her descriptions on the Occupy movement were accessible. Her language was always appropriate for the subject, using higher diction when necessary, but sticking mostly to lower diction and conversational tones.
Additionally, I was impressed with how many topics she touched on. Her art functioned as the connective tissue for all the different parts of her life she drew: the sex trade, 9/11, feminism, Occupy, Guantanamo, traveling, and the recession, among other topics. If you told me all of those elements could live within one book successfully, I would not believe you, but here I am, sitting in my bed, just having read the exact book to accomplish that feat.
On a line by line basis, Crabapple is a gorgeous writer. She flexes different muscles depending on the topic at hand. She can be tragically romantic or precisely journalistic. Through it all, her art makes this memoir stand out as one I'm sure I won't forget. When I read Jonathon Safron Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, I loved the book, but I found myself skimming over the graphics a bit. I know from friend's stories that that was not the case for everyone, but I guess I tend to shy away from illustration and graphics in longer works. But in this one I found myself studying each image, eyes darting around to new, undiscovered details, trying to absorb it. I loved how Crabapple's illustrative style carried through the novel, bringing the different pieces together and always feeling appropriate for the accompanying writing.
So basically, this is one of the freshest, most relevant memoirs of our current time, and one that has so many access points. I came for the art, but I know others who might have more interest in the activism. This is a book that I'm not shy about recommending because I think it manages to make bold statements yet has the power to please a crowd. Add the sex appeal of nude modeling, and there's not much more a reader could want.
A few of my favorite lines:
"After, I lay on the floor with my eyes closed, imagining each moment with Anthony falling over me like a snowflake. Some were as innocent as water. Others were acid. I wondered how they would burn."
"We love the violence in others that we cannot do ourselves. We imagine what it would be like to be that brave."
The entire section from page 169-170. She switches to the second person and it WORKS.
"Humbert's words felt as real for a nightclub as for a girl." (If you love Lolita, you will LOVE the reference in this section.)
Check out the illustration on page 250 if you're in a bookstore because it gives a great idea of her activist artwork.
"Time has to pass. And you have to look into what comes next, after ecstasy, with courage and clear eyes and a taste for infinite hard work."
"It couldn't speak, only gesture. In that moment, I hated the muteness of art."
Please read this book. You will love it, I promise. (That's bold, but I think I'm right.)