Kiese Laymon does it again. I have read Heavy by him, along with Long Division. His writing is so honest, heartfelt and poignant as ever as being a Black man in America. He writes about America in a raw way that sticks with you for a long time, analyzing the history of America as a whole in comparison to his lived experience as a Black man in the south with a mother he loves. Would read anything Laymon writes for years to come.

Breathtaking - the vulnerability and pulse in every single sentence made this an incredibly moving and profound read. I devoured Heavy when it was released, and now am even more excited for Long Division after all the references to the writing process in this. What a talent and what a mark Laymon is making on the literary landscape!

Kiese Laymon is the writwe that makes you believe he is your beat friend. His vulnerability is palpable in this revised collection of essays. As a black woman and lover of black men, I felt a great sense of pride knowing that he reclaimed ownership of his work and was able to present the way he envisioned. Much like his memoir Heavy, I felt privileged to have a glimpse into the mind of the black man. So often he his not allowed to be imperfect, feel weak, or encouraged to ask for help and the various essays presented shouts to black men that it's okay to be human. America doesn't give you the right too much of anything when you are born on parole based on the color of your skin but you are a human with feelings and expectations. You will fall but you always stand up. Thank you Kiese, the publisher and NetGalley for this copy in exchange for an honest review.

If there was any doubt that this would be a showstopper, let it be allayed. Laymon brings another poignant, insightful, and scintillating work to bear for the perfect moment.

I hadn't read the original version of this essay collection, but I knew that Kiese Laymon is a genius and that his writing is stunning. That in mind, this collection STILL utterly blew me away, and I appreciated its updated structure that began with COVID-19 reflections and all its consequent horrors. (Thanks to NetGalley for the eARC.)

A revised and rereleased collection of essays from Kiese Laymon that reckon with life and love and radical friendships.

Kiese can write. This collection is really good. The essays function fully on their own and relate to each other in ways that enhance the text and the reader’s experience of it. While the topics are ranging there is a feeling that vibrates through out. The ways in which Laymon interrogates his reality is thrilling to read. I wish my brain worked like his.

I read the previous version of this book and really enjoyed it. The first version was messier. It was scrappier. It dealt with public figures in a way that this revision does not. It felt very 2013. I’m not sure the essays were as good last time, but I’m not sure better essays necessarily make a better collection. This revision has a confidence that you can feel. I trusted Laymon more. I was curious about his choices and changes. The essays are broader. Bigger. More in touch with a feeling versus a time.

I've read about anti-racism, America's racist history, possible solutions to our race issues, and fictional books centered on racism and black lives, and Kiese Laymon's writing hits deeper than most. He writes so well, with such compassion and vulnerability about his own life, and what it means to be a black man in America. "Heavy" laid heavily on my heart in a way few other books have. These essays placed a knot in my gut and tears in my eyes. We talk about race in America like it's an unsolved math equation, these essays are a good reminder that it's a human problem with real, ongoing consequences.

I received a reviewer copy of How To Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America by Kiese Laymon from the publisher Scribner from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review

What It’s About: This is a reissuing and revision of Kiese Laymon’s earliest essay collection before Heavy came out. In this collection he comes to terms with moving back to Mississippi, the hardwork of his grandmamma, the beginning of his conversations with his mother for Heavy, and thoughts on New York Hip Hop versus Southern roots.

What I Loved: Kiese Laymon is so talented. I’ve been learning this year that I can enjoy work that wasn’t written for me. Kiese is writing for the Southern Black man who grew up like him. I can certainly tell that this book is written for a different audience, but anyone can appreciate this beautifully written collection. Laymon is raw and honest (like Heavy) and has a gift with words. One of the essays that stand out to me the most is the story of trying to get his novel published and the deep prejudice included in the publishing process and the destruction this caused him. They tried to publish this so it was less startling to White People and fuck that, this book did not need to be comforting to White people and Kiese has done everyone a service by fighting for his words. Other standout essays are about pledging allegiance to a flag that stands for your oppression, how to support a community of Black people at an institution that has constantly hurt them, and a piece about living in rural Pennsylvania.

What I Didn't Like So Much: In an essay collection there are always going to be essays that you’re not wild about but the book is worthy and my not understanding the essay shouldn’t take away the power of the collection.

Who Should Read This: People who loved Heavy. People who loved Just Us by Claudia Rankine. People who love powerful essay collections. People who want to read more diversely (Kiese Laymon is so talented).

Quick Summary: A powerful essay collection that’s been revised and reissued.

As with many other essay collections, there were some that really stuck with me and others that didn't speak to me nearly as much, but that's to be expected as these essays aren't for me specifically. I appreciate Laymon's unique voice and way with words, and admire how forthright he is with his love, especially for his fellow Black men. In a world that tries to paint them as aggressive and hyper-masculine in a yucky patriarchal way, Laymon proves it is not so by showing us what love and care between Black men looks like.

Kiese Laymon has updated his previous book of essays to include a powerful one on the beginning of the Covid-19 epidemic and a few others. He is rapidly becoming one of the most articulate of the Black writers' community and this short book of essays is similar in the vein of his writing. He focuses on his development of his psyche as a Black gay male in Mississippi, his education and need to write, his time living in Poughkeepsie, NY as a teacher. His grandmother and mother feature heavily in his writing and he refers to the lessons they taught him.

The essays begin in 2020, with the beginning of Covid, and then the time immediately after the 2016 election, and so on going backward in time.

The author used his own experiences to write a deeply personal and impactful collection of essays. I felt a range of emotions as I read and feel as if I learned a lot along the way!

With six new essays, the revised edition of 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢 by writer and cultural critic Kiese Laymon offers unvarnished, sometimes painful, and always insightful observations on family, race, politics, and popular culture.

He interrogates his experiences and his reactions so honestly and communicates so powerfully and creatively, it’s impossible to be unaffected by his prose. The writing style here is similar to that in 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺, his celebrated memoir, so if you liked it, you’ll enjoy this as well. If you haven’t read Laymon before, this essay collection, which can be read in any order, offers an excellent entre into his work.

From Mississippi, Laymon positions himself as a Southern writer, and his revelations about the Mississippi state flag and confederate flag showed how hurtful these symbols and others like them can be. A bit of good news is that Mississippi voters approved a new flag design last week. Changing the symbol is only a first step.

In another essay, he notes that after an encounter with the police, he realized that “blackness is probable cause.” Until the institutions and systemic racism that enable such attitudes from police, changing symbols is important, but still only a superficial act, just as how Biden’s election opens a door to change but in itself solves nothing.

The revised edition goes on sale tomorrow, and I encourage you to add it to your reading list.

This breathtaking essay collection is a revised edition of Laymon’s 2013 release of the original. There are 13 essays in the collection, six new, 7 from the original edition. The collection is a unique walk through the author’s life, Southern American culture and critiques of American society. Each essay is written in a format that fits the subject. For instance the essay, Hey Mama is unfolded over an exchange of emails between Laymon and his mother. The influence of the author’s family is felt throughout the collection as he recounts conversations and interactions with his grandmother, uncle, mother, aunts and cousins. Each of these memories leads to a greater concept that the author explores in the essay.

The collection is engrossing and had me hooked from the first page. I consumed 3 essays during my first reading. I had to slow my pace to read only one essay per day so that I could enjoy the experience.

The title of this collection is also the binding theme. In each essay, Laymon skillful examines how death/killing is affecting individuals in America i.e global pandemic, police brutality, crime, etc.

Anyone who is a fan of Kiese Laymon’s memoir, Heavy will enjoy this essay collection. Many people and incidents mentioned in Heavy are discussed and presented in a different way in this collection. Also, lovers of essay and nonfiction will enjoy this collection.

I was given the opportunity to review an advanced copy of this book via NetGalley.

Kiese Laymon's collection of essays are personal and powerful. I've read several earlier in other magazines, and it's telling that I still remember them today. I loved his memoir "Heavy" and enjoyed seeing some of the same characters in these essays. Readers get a sincere glimpse into Laymon's world, a world of some good white folks, some horrendous white folks, and how they affect and connect with his black world, the world of grandmothers and mothers beating sons reminding them their lives mean nothing to white folks, and then how similar all boys are when it comes to farts. I've read about Laymon's experience with his first publisher earlier, and was interested in how he began this collection talking about buying back his two earlier books, which makes me curious to read "Long Division" next.

In many ways, "How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America" was THE book I needed to read this year.

In 2020, a year where Black folks have been constantly confronted with reminders of our mortality, it was invigorating to not only read about the ways in which we "slowly kill" ourselves and others, but also to think about the ways in which we live and how be better to ourselves and each other.

In Kiese's literary voice, I hear not only the influence of literary giants. I hear Tupac, I hear Scarface, I hear Marvin Gaye. I also hear my uncles, my cousins, my friends, I hear the raw, vulnerable voices of black men and boys everywhere. I hear parts of myself.

Kiese's work is important because he SEES us, and consistently challenges us to interrogate our ideas of who we are, what we believe and what we've been taught about the world.

I am so grateful that Kiese Laymon and I are alive at the same time so I can read and feel the words he writes. Ooooof, this is all so good. I wish we were friends, I wish I knew him. I deeply respect Laymon's ability to share his feelings and emotions with such a deep vulnerability. His writing shows us that he is not someone who backs away from looking at himself, far beyond the point where most people would have turned around and said, "fuck this." I hadn't read the previous edition of this book, and I'm glad I hadn't until this 2020 edition was put out.

The new 2020 edition includes other essays the first didn't, and from how Laymon talks about the struggle to get the first one published, I highly recommend that those who haven't read this book yet go with this new 2020 edition over the previous.

This book is a gorgeous collection of essays about Southern Black families, children, men, mothers, grandmothers. Basketball, hip hop, education, making a living, how we hurt the ones we love most, how we hurt ourselves. All of it revolves about Mississippi, and I'm so grateful it does. Laymon loves his home, is wedded to it, for better or worse. I hope he keeps writing about Mississippi and never stops. I highlighted and saved so many portions of this book because the beauty just hurt in that good kind of way.

I feel like I've written a lot and said nothing. I can't imagine missing out on Kiese Laymon. Just don't. I first read an essay of his in the Well Read Black Girl book and I had to stop and be like, "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!" after I started Laymon's essay. It was about his grandmother and the love they share and Mississippi and Outkast and it just KILLED ME. Immediately picked up his memoir Heavy after that. It turned out to be one of the best books I've read in my life, for me writing doesn't get better than that. Then I read this. SIGH. This is just very, very, very good shit. Words fail.

Thank you to #NetGalley and Scribner for sharing a copy of this book with me in exchange for an honest review.

With the exception of his essay in The Fire This Time, I had yet to really sit down and read Kiese Laymon's writing, until now. Halfway through the essays in How To Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America, I paused to head over to Goodreads and add his entire backlist to my to-be-read list.

Laymon's writing is so commanding. Even when talking about sports (something I don't care much about), I had trouble putting this book down because, in Laymon's hands, the essay is never about "just sports"—or "just" anything. He digs in far beyond the surface and creates connections people often miss (due to privilege, lack of interest, white supremacy, or any number of reasons).

I highlighted so much in this book, but I don't have anything coherent to say about those highlights just yet. A few moments in particular:

- the phrase "the politics of American dreaming"
- describing Black boys as "being born on parole" and "growing up on parole"
- symbolic change and empty gestures versus real solutions and tangible change, and how this is connected to white supremacy/savior complexes

I have a lot of thinking to do, and that's something I'm thankful for. The way Laymon sees others, and the way he reflects inwardly, is powerful stuff. I strive to be that perceptive and honest with myself.

After years of fighting for his space in the publishing world, Kiese Laymon realized he was becoming the kind of person he hated when a friend pointed out that he was slowly killing himself and others. This new edition of Laymon's essay collection How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America looks at how an abusive relationship with publishing shaped his experience as an author. And with six new essays interwoven with seven essays from the original edition, this book is timely, sharp, and fresh. Laymon's perspective is so unique, and I'm grateful for the chance to read this collection with his added reflection since its original release.

A group of essays so well written so thoughtful. Kinsey Laymon is a gifted essayist a writer who shares his life his issues from publishing to academia to life it is such a pleasure to read his words.Highly recommending to all who treasure fine writing.#netgalley #scribner

"How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America" by Kiese Laymon is a collection of essays by the author that discuss his life, experience publishing books, and social and political commentary. I was really looking to forward to reading this book as I thought "Heavy" was such a great piece. I really did not love the essays that focused on Laymon's experience with his agents and publishers or the essay that was a series of conversations with his mom, but I really liked the other essays in the book that did not fall into these two categories. Overall, it was a good read.