studeksbooknook's review
1.0
We all know that the pandemic has changed so so much in our lives – and relationships, especially romantic relationships, are certainly no exception. Love in the Time of Contagion: A Diagnosis purports to look at the ways in which covid and its restrictions and isolation and the incredible amount of time that people are suddenly spending with their partners/families/cohabitation buddies has impacted relationships of all stripes.
COVID-19 has produced new taxonomies of love, intimacy, and vulnerability. Will its cultural afterlife be as lasting as that of HIV, which reshaped consciousness about sex and love even after AIDS itself had been beaten back by medical science? Will COVID end up making us more relationally conservative, as some think HIV did within gay culture? Will it send us fleeing into emotional siloes or coupled cocoons, despite the fact that, pre-COVID, domestic coupledom had been steadily losing fans?
Honestly, I wish I had DNFed this one. The early publicity info the publisher says that this is a “darkly funny investigation” into the above questions, but it just comes off as disjointed, like it was written by the stereotypical angry feminist undergrad who’s trying so hard to be edgy and provocative that they just end up stringing together random thoughts and missing the point of the assignment all together.
That’s not a trope that I use lightly. Look, I have two masters degrees, so I’m used to heady works, including those that can push the envelope, and given my fields of study, feminist literature and theories weaved into my grad work often. This isn’t a context with which I am unfamiliar. But I just couldn’t shake the feeling of that trope all the way through the book.
Kipnis spends a great deal of time on #MeToo, but doesn’t really make the connection between the movement and its resulting impacts and the main thesis of the book. Yes, the movement gained major traction before the pandemic and we’ve all had lots (and lots) of alone time to think on it over the last two years, but ultimately, bringing it up feels like nothing more than a venue for railing on “ugly” old men that Kipnis finds to be worthy of public berating. Yes, it’s great that “an international plague of shitty men was being exposed and dethroned,” but the manner in which Kipnis takes this on just felt juvenile and vindictive – not educated and empowered and actionable.
It felt like Kipnis expects that every hetero female out there to be disgusted by the “male-female thing.” I mean, yes, there are definitely parts of the socially-constructed hetero relationship that need to change (and have changed), but not every hetero female is “in a conflicted position” over their relationships and wants to wash their hands of it or “choose queerness.” Umm, what? I’m not even sure where to start with that last gem.
And I’m sorry, but the last chapter just felt like I was reading a trashy rag. I hate the phrase, but I just can’t even…
Be provocative. Push boundaries. Get angry. Make people uncomfortable. That’s often what research and writing is about. But please, make a cogent point.
So, long story short, I want my two days of reading time back. I’m sure this book will find an audience with which it resonates, but this was a massive swing and a miss for me.
COVID-19 has produced new taxonomies of love, intimacy, and vulnerability. Will its cultural afterlife be as lasting as that of HIV, which reshaped consciousness about sex and love even after AIDS itself had been beaten back by medical science? Will COVID end up making us more relationally conservative, as some think HIV did within gay culture? Will it send us fleeing into emotional siloes or coupled cocoons, despite the fact that, pre-COVID, domestic coupledom had been steadily losing fans?
Honestly, I wish I had DNFed this one. The early publicity info the publisher says that this is a “darkly funny investigation” into the above questions, but it just comes off as disjointed, like it was written by the stereotypical angry feminist undergrad who’s trying so hard to be edgy and provocative that they just end up stringing together random thoughts and missing the point of the assignment all together.
That’s not a trope that I use lightly. Look, I have two masters degrees, so I’m used to heady works, including those that can push the envelope, and given my fields of study, feminist literature and theories weaved into my grad work often. This isn’t a context with which I am unfamiliar. But I just couldn’t shake the feeling of that trope all the way through the book.
Kipnis spends a great deal of time on #MeToo, but doesn’t really make the connection between the movement and its resulting impacts and the main thesis of the book. Yes, the movement gained major traction before the pandemic and we’ve all had lots (and lots) of alone time to think on it over the last two years, but ultimately, bringing it up feels like nothing more than a venue for railing on “ugly” old men that Kipnis finds to be worthy of public berating. Yes, it’s great that “an international plague of shitty men was being exposed and dethroned,” but the manner in which Kipnis takes this on just felt juvenile and vindictive – not educated and empowered and actionable.
It felt like Kipnis expects that every hetero female out there to be disgusted by the “male-female thing.” I mean, yes, there are definitely parts of the socially-constructed hetero relationship that need to change (and have changed), but not every hetero female is “in a conflicted position” over their relationships and wants to wash their hands of it or “choose queerness.” Umm, what? I’m not even sure where to start with that last gem.
And I’m sorry, but the last chapter just felt like I was reading a trashy rag. I hate the phrase, but I just can’t even…
Be provocative. Push boundaries. Get angry. Make people uncomfortable. That’s often what research and writing is about. But please, make a cogent point.
So, long story short, I want my two days of reading time back. I’m sure this book will find an audience with which it resonates, but this was a massive swing and a miss for me.
thecatherineread's review
1.0
Absolutely terrible. Possibly one of the worst books I've ever read and still finished. It felt like the author sanctioned her own rant on the practices of modern sexuality and monogamy and then indulged herself in every possible way.
The book was difficult to follow, though not particularly complex in verbiage or structure. It was phrased in a way that should have been shocking, but the lack of cohesive narrative negated any impact it might have had.
The book barely seems to address it's core question- what happened to intimacy during the pandemic- and instead became a travelogue of the author's thoughts and experiences. It is profane without being impactful and is in DESPERATE need of an editor. Kipnis would have to radically change her writing process for me to consider reading anything she writes in the future.
The book was difficult to follow, though not particularly complex in verbiage or structure. It was phrased in a way that should have been shocking, but the lack of cohesive narrative negated any impact it might have had.
The book barely seems to address it's core question- what happened to intimacy during the pandemic- and instead became a travelogue of the author's thoughts and experiences. It is profane without being impactful and is in DESPERATE need of an editor. Kipnis would have to radically change her writing process for me to consider reading anything she writes in the future.
stevierae5's review
3.0
A pretty uneven collection of essays. Some were interesting, while some dragged on far too long and seemed to ramble without much point. Overall, the interesting was interesting enough to bring up the average.
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