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A review by tigger89
Pageboy by Elliot Page
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
4.5
Elliot Page's memoir, told in nonlinear format, covers topics ranging all the way from his emotionally-exhausting childhood in Nova Scotia to the fallout of his coming out publicly as trans at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. A unique blend of queer and celebrity memoir, we follow Page as he explains how his identities as both a queer person and as a boy(later a man) being forced into a straight, feminine role both on- and off-screen put him in a position of constant crisis. Something had to give, and it did, first in 2014 when he came out as queer and again in 2020 when he came out as trans.
As far as the queer memoir side of things go, this was a satisfying, illuminating read. Obviously Page's experience isn't everybody's experience. He admits that he's privileged in many ways, but he isn't ashamed — nor should he be — in recounting his lived experiences. I was particularly interested in his depiction of life as a closeted queer person, secretly dating women while working in the film industry, as well as how his childhood experiences shaped how he interacted with the world as an adult. I would caution readers that there are many passages — particular pertaining to sexual assault and gender dysphoria — that read as incompletely-processed trauma. There's not a lot of shielding on the emotions. Page provides content warnings at the front of the book, so please, take them seriously.
For the celebrity side of things, I don't really feel qualified to judge. I primarily know Page from his activism, and also I watched Juno. So mostly I was interested in how the celebrity stuff interacted with the queer stuff, and all the names just washed over me. The experience worked for me, but I can also understand someone who might want more anchoring being frustrated at the lack of explanation of who most of these people were. And of course there was the obligatory discretion, where "a member of crew" or "an acquaintance" did horrible things. I have no idea who those people were. In a way, the facelessness works. They could be anybody and we wouldn't know, which is the reality, since we know the list of people who have faced consequences for their behavior is woefully limited.
I personally loved the nonlinear format. The chapters are each gathered around a theme, concept, or state of mind, though it's not always obvious when you start off. Sometimes I had to flip back through, looking at the chapter title, before I spotted the connection and understood why the things were arranged the way they were. Another thing that will bother some people is Page's writing style. He frequently emphasizes or describes by stringing together several short sentence fragments. Distinct, painting a picture, individually striking. While Page is guilty of blatant comma abuse, I actually liked it. But I completely understand why it made some readers' skin crawl.
Important question time: do the dogs die?Page owns two dogs over the course of the book. The first is alluded to as passing offscreen, and the second is still alive and well as if the end of the book.
As far as the queer memoir side of things go, this was a satisfying, illuminating read. Obviously Page's experience isn't everybody's experience. He admits that he's privileged in many ways, but he isn't ashamed — nor should he be — in recounting his lived experiences. I was particularly interested in his depiction of life as a closeted queer person, secretly dating women while working in the film industry, as well as how his childhood experiences shaped how he interacted with the world as an adult. I would caution readers that there are many passages — particular pertaining to sexual assault and gender dysphoria — that read as incompletely-processed trauma. There's not a lot of shielding on the emotions. Page provides content warnings at the front of the book, so please, take them seriously.
For the celebrity side of things, I don't really feel qualified to judge. I primarily know Page from his activism, and also I watched Juno. So mostly I was interested in how the celebrity stuff interacted with the queer stuff, and all the names just washed over me. The experience worked for me, but I can also understand someone who might want more anchoring being frustrated at the lack of explanation of who most of these people were. And of course there was the obligatory discretion, where "a member of crew" or "an acquaintance" did horrible things. I have no idea who those people were. In a way, the facelessness works. They could be anybody and we wouldn't know, which is the reality, since we know the list of people who have faced consequences for their behavior is woefully limited.
I personally loved the nonlinear format. The chapters are each gathered around a theme, concept, or state of mind, though it's not always obvious when you start off. Sometimes I had to flip back through, looking at the chapter title, before I spotted the connection and understood why the things were arranged the way they were. Another thing that will bother some people is Page's writing style. He frequently emphasizes or describes by stringing together several short sentence fragments. Distinct, painting a picture, individually striking. While Page is guilty of blatant comma abuse, I actually liked it. But I completely understand why it made some readers' skin crawl.
Important question time: do the dogs die?
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Eating disorder, Emotional abuse, Homophobia, Rape, Self harm, Sexual assault, Transphobia, Stalking, and Dysphoria
Moderate: Cancer, Car accident, Outing, and Alcohol
Minor: Animal death, Pregnancy, and Pandemic/Epidemic