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Casey Plett

Dream of a Woman, A

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Casey Plett’s 2018 novel Little Fish won a Lambda Literary Award, the Firecracker Award for Fiction, and the Amazon First Novel Award (Canada). Her latest work, A Dream of a Woman, is her first book of short stories since her seminal 2014 collection A Safe Girl to Love. Centering transgender women seeking stable, adult lives, A Dream of a Woman finds quiet truths in prairie high-rises and New York warehouses, and in freezing Canadian winters and drizzly Oregon days.
In “Hazel and Christopher,” two childhood friends reconnect as adults after one of them has transitioned. In “Perfect Places,” a woman grapples with undesirability as she navigates fetish play with a man. In “Couldn’t Hear You Talk Anymore,” the narrator reflects on past trauma and what might have been as she recalls tender moments with another trans woman.
An ethereal meditation on partnership, sex, addiction, romance, groundedness, and love, the stories in A Dream of a Woman buzz with quiet intensity and the intimate complexities of being human.
Este libro no está disponible por el momento.
262 páginas impresas
Publicación original
2021
Año de publicación
2021
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Citas

  • Nast Huertacompartió una citahace 2 años
    Gemma’s drunk for real now. She continues, “To cut yourself off from the world. It makes you resistant to outside forces, yes. But narrowly. Not in a way that is strong. Like a tree that grows only upwards, never outwards. Is a poplar not easier to fell than an oak?”
  • Nast Huertacompartió una citahace 2 años
    The temptation to remove oneself from the world does not lack for appeal,” she says. “The idea does not need a Scriptural mandate to accrue power. Anybody who doesn’t feel accepted within the world—which is most people, regardless of whether it’s actually true—can be excited by this desire.”
  • Nast Huertacompartió una citahace 2 años
    Vera realized her selfhood was sutured with these women from her life, that the only lie about the old him dying was that the skin of the person she’d stepped into wasn’t a cis lady she’d conjured from the air but a blanket fashioned from a kaleidoscope of them, shards and spackles that lived in her like bacteria, like DNA, joyous and ailing, a double helix of protection and illness.

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