Books Change Our Lives!
We share the books that marked turning points in our lives.
Committee Member Johnathan Lay shares his thoughts about a book that changed his life…
“Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.
Not only did I find her use of language, hearing the dialect of southern Black people, amazingly nuanced and rich, but as a Black man meeting those male characters had me reflect on who I was as young person and ask the question/s: what type of man did I want to be? How did I want to show up for the people in my life, for the women in my life? Basically, how could I be a better man to the ones I love? Hopefully, those around me think I answered those questions well.”
Perry Brass, Co-founder of the RBF shares memories about three books that changed his life…
“The Unexpurgated Arabian Nights. When I was either eight or nine years old, my father gave me a copy that had been his at my age. I learned: nothing is as it appears to be, there are genies, wizards, charlatans, and angels behind everything, some, by today’s insight, definitely queer.
Uncle Tom's Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe. From my father again, at nine. I cried so hard when Uncle Tom was beaten to death by Simon LeGree that I was inconsolable. I still am.
Prater Violet, Christopher Isherwood. A short novel with one of the most rapturous passages about gay love ever written—in code. Isherwood's lover is called "J." “
Sarah Chinn, RBF’s Readings, Panels, and Events Coordinator says these books changed her life…
“Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990)
I know that most people don’t count works of queer theory as “changed my l life” kind of books, but Gender Trouble certainly changed mine. I read it when it first came out — I was a first year grad student and I have clear memories of sitting down to read it as though I was entering into a new, mysterious way of being and thinking. Gender Trouble convinced me that the things I’d been thinking about my whole life were worthy of serious analysis. And it was a kind of “open sesame” to the emerging field of Queer Studies, where I met other grad students as on fire with ideas as I was. I still have my original battered, taped up copy and the cover photo alone evokes that difficult, thrilling period of my life.
Audre Lorde, Zami (1982)
I think I first read this in college and at this point I’ve taught it probably a dozen times. Zami is at its core a loving and generous book that gives its readers a kind of road map of how to experience desire in a woman-loving female body, as well as a radically different history of the 1950s in the US. It’s deeply sexy and politically sharp at the same time. If Gender Trouble gave me a way to understand myself as a queer intellectual, Zami reminded me that the intellectual, political, and emotional can never be separated from how we live in and through our bodies.”
Darrell Perry, RBF’s Digital Media Coordinator says this book changed his life…
“The New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology by Robert Graves (first published in 1959).
I was nine when I discovered the witchcraft, religion and mythology sections of the school library. Stories of gods and goddesses from all over the world captivated me. I read greedily about their love, lust, and pairings. Same-sex pairings were frequent, and most of the male gods were bisexual and prolific in their couplings. These gods had passionate, humanlike feelings of anger, jealousy, and envy. They were quick to exact revenge on humans and gods alike. The material was a lot different from what I was learning in Sunday school! I would read anything I could get about Greek, Roman, and Egyptian mythology and talk about it all the time. Then, I remember on my tenth birthday, my mom handed me a big box. I opened the box, and there was this heavy tome! It was the New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology, by Robert Graves! It was a large, beautifully illustrated book filled with mythology and historical passages, adorned with stunning color and black-and-white photos of art that depicted gods both familiar and unfamiliar to me. It was a heady book that I frequently lost myself in as a young boy, finding it difficult to comprehend his teenage body and my strong same-sex attraction. I treasured that book. I read every page of it. I thumbed it many, many times. The spine had worn away, and 55 years later, last year, I finally decided to toss it in the recycling bin—ritually, of course—and ordered a brand new hard copy from Amazon. From time to time I thumb through it, and I get the same thrill I got over half a century ago.