<i>Dream House as Sodom
Like Lot’s wife, you looked back, and like Lot’s wife, you were turned into a pillar of salt, but unlike Lot’s wife, God gave you a second chance and turned you human again, but then you looked back again and became salt and then God took pity and gave you a third, and over and again you lurched through your many reprieves and mistakes; one moment motionless and the next gangly, your soft limbs wheeling and your body staggering into the dirt, and then stiff as a tree trunk again with an aura of dust, then windmilling down the road as fire rains down behind you; and there has never been a woman as cartoonish as you—animal to mineral and back again.</i>

With a brave and daring honesty, Machado lays out her relationship in an open book, using short vignettes or sequences, piece by piece, she bares her soul. I wouldn't add, subtract or modify a word of it. 5 stars.

"I received a free review copy from the publisher in exchange fro my honest unedited feedback."

With thanks to Serpents Tail and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this book.
#IntheDreamHouse
#NetGalley

I enjoyed Her Body... a lot, but ITDH is a phenomenal piece of work. As an account of an abusive relationship, it's compelling and gut-wrenching; it's also a fascinating exploration of the psychology behind abusive dynamics, specifically within queer relationships. It is a valuable addition to the canon of writing on the subject of queer abusive relationships, as both a resource and a contribution in its own right. It is also, on a linguistic, formal, and narrative level, a deftly written book, which is an intellectual joy to read even while it speaks of horrific abuse and pain.

★★★✰✰ 3 stars

Part of me definitely admires Carmen Maria Machado for having not only the strength to tackle such a difficult subject matter but to do so by sharing her own personal experience with her readers. And yes, I also can't help but to recognise that In the Dream House: A Memoir is definitely the most innovative memoir I have ever read, I would be lying if I said (or wrote) that it was flawlessly executed. I'm definitely glad to see that many other reviewers are praising it and or have clearly found it to be an emotional and striking read...nevertheless I will try to momentarily resist peer pressure and express my honest opinion instead, which is that In the Dream House: A Memoir struck me as a rather disjointed amalgamation.
On the one hand we have pages and pages chock-full of quotations from secondary sources discussing the way in which American society tends to dismiss or not acknowledge that sexual, emotional, and physical abuse within the queer community is possible. These sections seemed to adopt an essayist's language. However, while these sections used certain academic terms (possibly not accessible to a wide readership) and were structured like essays of sorts they didn't really develop Machado's initial argument (that abusive queer or LGBTQ relationships are often called in to question since many consider the idea of a woman abusing another woman unbelievable). I didn't agree with some of her readings of certain queer films nor did I find her own brand of queer criticism all that compelling.
The other segments in this memoir draw from Machado's personal history with an abusive relationship. Her partner (a woman) emotionally and psychologically abused her throughout the entirety of their relationship. Machado deviates from the usual recognisably 'memoir' way of presenting one's own story offering us instead with fragments of her time in this abusive relationship. She addresses this past 'self' in the secondary person, so there are a lot of 'you' this and 'you' that, and her abuser as the woman in the Dream House. Here her language becomes even more flowery and the imagery and metaphors were rather abstract. These sections seemed snapshots more than anything else. The style seemed to take on more importance than the story she way telling.
I also was not all that keen on the way she traces past conversations and incidents back to folklore. She seems a bit too ready to connect every single moment of this awful relationship back to Jungian archetypes. It was weird and it made some aspects of memoir seem a bit artificial.
Also while I get that sometimes including graphic or deeply personal moments is horrifyingly necessary when discussing abuse (such as Isabelle Aubry does in her memoir where she talks in detail about the horrific sexual abuse her father inflicted upon her) here we had these random sex scenes which seemed to be included merely to be subversive.
Overall I just couldn't look past my dislike for Machado writing style. Still, I'm definitely in the minority on this one so I recommend you check this one out and see for yourself whether you are interested in reading this.

I couldn't put this down. In the Dream House was haunting and gut wrenching. I'm just...Wow! Machado is absolutely brilliant. Nothing I write here will capture what this book did to me. Trust me READ it. 5 Stars
Thank you, Netgalley & Serpent's Tail for gifting me this copy. I am forever grateful.

Wow! I was expecting to enjoy (not quite the right word, given how harrowing the subject matter, but also Machado's prose is so shamelessly pleasurable) In The Dream House, having loved most of Her Body And Other Parties, but I was still taken aback by how breathtakingly confident and assured and effective it is. The kaleidoscope of genres employed sharpen and refract Machado's point rather than obfuscating it, and both her wide and playful frame of reference and her detailed research are worn lightly. The employment of stylistic tricks like the folklore type footnotes and the Choose Your Own Adventure (!!!) chapter are both devastating and wildly enjoyable to witness. Recommended, unequivocally.

I think this is the first memoir of its kind and it is incredibly clever. Interspersing the narrative of a queer relationship with domestic violence and utilizing other forms of metaphor such a fairytales, horror and pop culture references, this novel is captivating throughout.
Carmen speak about important subject matter that is at times difficult to read, however the writing keeps you invested, as does the other elements woven in. I actually loved the way that it was told in fragments, as someone that prefers shorter chapters this was even better.
I highly recommend reading this powerful novel and I hope it wins lots of awards.

Memoirs of bad relationships aren't normally a genre that appeals to me, but when it's told in the same fractured style, at once allusive and elusive, as Machado's fiction, it seems silly to let a little thing like actuality get in the way. And for all that it's laced with footnotes pointing out correspondences to folkloric motifs at least as old as time, in a sense this isn't the same old story, because where one would normally expect Bluebeard to be, instead there's a girlfriend – albeit one who, it is suggested, may have learned dangerous things from her own father's treatment of her mother. Still, notwithstanding the recent revival of enthusiasm for demographic essentialism, I've always suspected the world's main problem was simply that people are very good at being shitty to people, and much of the outline remains familiar. There's the slow slide from endearing manifestations of possessiveness to the sinister sort, the impossibility of putting one's finger on where a line has been crossed from messiness to bad behaviour, bad behaviour to abuse. A section on lines on the map, Machado's fascination with liminal spaces, butts up against one where the girlfriend says that despite how they got together they'll be monogamous, and that was an alarm bell for me but would doubtless seem like perfectly sensible new relationship housekeeping to many. It shouldn't need saying that it's not an easy read; I think I'd be wary of anyone who didn't find it upsetting at least in places, from one or another end, or even both. But it's an excellent piece of writing, always aware both of the particularities (the legal history of domestic violence in lesbian relationships; the way in which fear is mingled with embarrassment at the girlfriend playing to all the worst stereotypes of homophobes) and the more depressingly general landscape of which it's a part. And I really should have guessed before Machado says as much, but it makes perfect sense when she reveals that that very fractured, haunted style which first drew me to her stories, and hence around to this, was itself a product of living a life which could at any moment erupt into nightmare.

(Netgalley ARC)

The story - abuse in a queer relationship - is something I have never read before and it's something I needed to read. I didn't know what to expect and I got the unexpected. The form is unexpected and extraordinary shifting from the second person, sliding through genres - from fairy tale to choose your own adventure to what feels like an academic textbook. By writing her story she has made it real, she refuses for it to be erased. And her dedication - If you need this book, it is for you - tells you exactly why she wrote it. Everyone should read this book. Right now.

My first read for #nonfictionnovember was Carmen Maria Machado's phenomenal memoir about same sex domestic abuse In The Dream House. Thanks to @serpentstail for the advance copy.

Nightmarish and fragmented, In The Dream House uses an innovative form exploring Machado's former abusive relationship through folklore, popular culture, and legal history, repeatedly trying to find a way to make sense of the incomprehensible reality that the woman who said she loved her also waged a campaign of terror against her. Machado talks about wanting to bring hidden abuse into the light, challenging the tempting idea that lesbian relationships are utopias (something that I've always struggled with), and the pressure to be a perfect model minority and not reveal anything that lets the queer side down.

She writes beautifully about the difficulties of escaping, the degradation of self, and the psychological traps of domestic abuse, and while this all sounds grim as hell its also a thought-provoking, powerful read by a brilliant author. While described as a memoir it often reads more like Mercado's fantastical short stories, and was a perfect companion to Kirsty Logan's Things We Say In The Dark in it's magical realist exploration of the horrors of intimate relationships.

CW for emotional, verbal, psychological, sexual and physical abuse

Machado writes in the afterword for this novel,

"In The Dream House is by no means meant to be a comprehensive account of contemporary research about same-sex domestic abuse or its history”.

And yet that is in a way what she has created.. More powerful because of the memoir format in which it is presented.

There are parts of this memoir where you can viscerally feel the fear that Machado feels. The slow grinding down of her spirit from the constant verbal, psychological, and physical violence that she experiences.

I was an instant fan of Machado’s writing after reading her debut, a collection of short stories, "Her Body and Other Parties”. I am happy to write that her beautiful style of writing remains. As well as a powerful piece of literature to bring reader’s attention to queer domestic abuse, it is a joy to read. In no way does this feel like a flat, black and white memoir. Machado lets the metaphors fly.

“It is the early months of 2011; marriage equality is smouldering, catching fire in some states, doused with water in others.”

“She has a raspy voice that sounds like a wheelbarrow being dragged over stones.”

“but she touches your arm and looks directly at you and you feel like a child buying something with her own money for the first time.”

“She leans away and looks at you with the kind of slow, reverent consideration you’d give to a painting. She strokes the soft inside of your wrist. You feel your heart beating somewhere far away, as if it’s behind glass.”

Beautiful vivid writing that continues through the whole memoir.

We find that at thirteen, Machado was a devout Christian. In her own words, “obsessed with sexual purity”, She not only went to church, but enjoyed it, and firmly believed that Jesus was her saviour.
Then when she was sixteen along came a new associate pastor, Joel Jones. Joel Jones slowly but surely built up a strong bond between himself and Machado. Increasingly they would meet at venues, like diners at two in the morning, just the two of them. Machado, young and innocent fails to see that Jones has broken down the walls that should stand firm and solid between them. The walls of minister/congruent, adult/teenager, teacher/student. When Machado leaves for college, we find out that Jones has been fired as pastor for having an affair with a parishioner. He finally answers Machado’s phone calls to tell her he is alright, and Machado never hears from him again. Did Jones ever stop for a minute to realise the damage he had done to Machado? The mental torture that he put her through. Did he ever consider the destructive impact his actions would have on her life? Did they have any?

At college she meets and falls in love with another female student. Things could not be any better until one day when she leaves the class to go to the bathroom, she finds a girl weeping and she finds out that the girl has been raped. Machado stays with the girl for two hours talking and comforting her. When Machado and her girlfriend drop the stranger home, things start to go
sideways. Her girlfriend erupts violently screaming at her to never do that again and that she did not know where she was. She pounds the dashboard with her fists to emphasise the point. Machado is at first more bewildered than afraid. Where has this violence come from?

As time goes on, it only gets worse. The girlfriend is obsessed.

After they have met their respective parents. Things slowly get worse. One day the girlfriend pinches her arm and maintains the pinch getting stronger and more painful. The girlfriend has taken the first step crossing the line from emotional abuse to physical abuse. However, it is the psychological abuse that is the most destructive.

For me this almost feels like an avant-garde form of memoir with Machado approaching each chapter from a wide variety of different perspectives. Exploring events from her past in the form of films, novels, science fiction tv series. At times it feels bizarre, but it works amazingly well. With each chapter you feel like Machado has hammered another point home about the lack of exposure, the scarcity of archival records of queer domestic abuse. With each chapter she seems to be emphasizing that this abuse is happening even if is not recorded, and that why should there be any difference from heterosexual abuse or any form of abuse anyway.

I loved this book, I think that it is brilliantly written, and that Machado is an extremely intelligent and gifted writer, delivering a powerful and important message. 4 Stars!

Thanks to Serpent's Tail for providing the ARC.

A frank, innovative and deeply moving memoir of domestic abuse in a same-sex relationship.

Machado writes with intelligence, warmth and wit on a troubling subject, and she gives a means of expression to those who struggle to put their experience into words.

The memoir’s chapters, some of them no more than vignettes, take the form of different literary genres. A storyteller of exceptional talent, Machado relates her own story to novels, folklore and popular culture, so that we understand. She explains her narrative choices: from the second person point of view, and the avoidance of cliché (it flattens the impact of a thought or experience), right through to the neat ending. Her examination of story theory reveals that the stories we tell ourselves explain who we are.

Meticulously researched and referenced, In the Dream House stands as a testament to all whose verbal, emotional, psychological and physical abuse at the hands of their partner has been swallowed by history.

An important and remarkable work.

My thanks to NetGalley and publisher, Serpent's Tail, for the ARC.

<i>For years Carmen Maria Machado has struggled to articulate her experiences in an abusive same-sex relationship. In this extraordinarily candid and radically inventive memoir, Machado tackles a dark and difficult subject with wit, inventiveness and an inquiring spirit, as she uses a series of narrative tropes—including classic horror themes—to create an entirely unique piece of work which </i>is destined to become an instant classic.

<i>In The Dream House</i> is an exceptional book. Bringing her precise and brilliant prose style to writing memoir, Machado navigates the complexities of abuse in queer relationships. On top of exploring her own experience of the highs of love and desire to the torment and horror of abuse, both overt and insidious, it displays how far people are willing to go in regards to dealing with - or even ignoring - suffering as it is lived.

More so it's a curation of an archive of sorts. Archiving, she says, is political, it's about power: who gets to shape the narrative of histories. Stories such as hers are largely excluded and so it makes her work all the more significant.

A tough read, but really brilliant blend of prose prowess and memoir that tells her story all the more powerfully.

I didn't realise how unusual this kind of memoir was until I started reading it- same sex abuse is not something that is often written about. It's a hard read but definitely worth it. It's upsetting in places and I imagine it was difficult to write. It's the story of how a woman fell in love and then went through physical and psychological abuse at the hands of her partner. The way it is written details how difficult it is to see what is happening for yourself when trapped in a relationship like this. A very worthwhile read.

This is a quick read but is alive with intelligence, insight and empathy, detailing how a young woman finds herself, unexpectedly, in an abusive relationship. Machado is honest about her emotions: her vulnerability and desire for love, her retreat in the face of the gradual uncovering of the inner nature of her lover, her pretence and self-deception, her attempts to encourage her lover to get professional help, her final escape.

As well as detailing an intensely personal story, this is also a book which is in self-conscious dialogue with other cultural narratives. The overwhelming story, as Machado points out throughout, is about the patriarchal male oppression of women as seen through everything from myths and fairytales through to contemporary films. But increasingly we are aware that men can be victims, and women can be abusers, and that these narratives, too, need to become mainstream.

Machado's particular interest is in queer abuse - a story that is both horrifyingly familiar even while it has some differences. The abuse suffered is primarily not physical but emotional and psychological.

So a brave unveiling of emotional turmoil, written in precise and emotive prose. I can't think of anyone that I wouldn't recommend this book to.

Honest open intimate raw a true story of the authors abusive relationship.with the woman she falls in love with.Told in a unique style Carmen shares the relationship she jumps into how it deteriorates to a point where she is always being tormented,At times difficult to read as she is put through this emotional roller coaster.I found myself scared for her hoping she’d be able to escape this relationship.Thisbis a book that draws you in as you feel the pain the anger hard to put down highly recommend.#netgalley#serpentstail.

In this intimate, formally experimental memoir, Machado recalls how she survived an abusive relationship, but gives her own experiences a wider context: As she illustrates by giving examples from real life, art and scientific texts, violence in lesbian relationships has rarely been acknowledged and discussed, thus rendering the victims almost invisible and making them even more vulnerable. With "In the Dream House", Machado wants to add to the archive of stories about the human experience, turning the phenomenon of abuse between queer women into a topic to be considered, to be pondered. To talk about queer people as abusers is in fact, Machado states, an act of liberation: "We deserve to have our wrongdoing represented as much as our heroism, because when we refuse wrongdoing as a possibility for a group of people, we refuse their humanity."

Machado met her unnamed ex-girlfriend when she was studying for an MFA in Iowa, and with time, "the woman in the dream house" became more and more controlling, passive-aggressive and also physically violent, gaslighting Machado, insulting and diminishing her and playing with her insecurities, until Machado finally found the strength to exit the relationship that had become a prison. The mechanisms Machado depicts will probably be recognizable for many people, but I have to admit that before the author pointed it out to me, I hadn't actively thought about the fact that there are hardly any texts that talk about abuse in a queer context, which means that queer people in these situations do not find themselves represented in (real and fictional) stories and are thus deprived of a language to express what they are experiencing. And although Machado explicitly states that it is her goal to change that, the situations and effects she depicts are in many respects universal. Machado is just a fantastic psychological writer with keen sensibilities, and she finds highly evocative words and images to convey her own past.

This main narrative thread is not only split in multiple short chapters, it is also interspersed with flashbacks, scientific research on the topic as well as examples from literature, music, films and real life that support Machado's argument that violence in lesbian relationship has long been a taboo. These paragraphs also paint a wider picture of American society as a whole, about dynamics that aim to "other" minorities and to control female sexuality. This multi-layered approach is also mirrored in the metaphor of the "dream house", which not only refers to the actual house in Bloomington the ex-girlfriend used to live in, but also to "a house that was not a house and a dream that was no dream at all", a (self-)deception with multiple different rooms and scary surroundings (think Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher, where the house is also much more than an actual building). To convey her alienation, Machado refers to her abused self of the past as "you", which is a particularly tricky narrative choice, and I've rarely seen an author pull this perspective off so effortlessly and effectfully.

All in all, I liked this much better than Her Body and Other Parties (which I already found rather impressive), and once I started reading, I couldn't put it down. Some parts were slightly too fragmented for my taste, but this memoir is a real achievement and deserves all the praise it currently gets.