Review of Amplitudes: Stories of Queer and Trans Futurity
When I first stumbled upon Amplitudes: Stories of Queer and Trans Futurity, edited by Lee Mandelo, I felt a surge of excitement. I’ve always been captivated by the intersection of sci-fi and LGBTQ+ narratives. The very idea of envisioning hopeful futures for queer and trans individuals intrigued me—it’s a realm where imagination knows no bounds! However, I must admit, my initial enthusiasm was met with a profound sense of disappointment and frustration as I delved into the collection.
The premise of the anthology promised to explore "queer and trans futurity" through a hopeful lens. Yet, for me, it largely fell short of that ambitious aim. Out of the twenty-two stories included, I found only a handful that genuinely approached the concept of hope—just six that might qualify as “hopeful.” Many of the stories felt heavy, laden with themes of persecution, and echoed a stark reminder that the struggles of the past persist into our imaginary futures. One particularly disheartening tale featured a queer club in a future where violence still reigns, which felt like a harsh punch in the gut coming at the end of the book.
As I navigated through the pages, I was gripped by a conflicting mix of admiration and anger. There are undeniably well-crafted narratives; Sam J. Miller’s “The Republic of Ecstatic Consent” paints a vivid picture of a queer commune determined to carve out a better future amidst chaos. In contrast, stories like "Copper Boys" left me exasperated—how could a will-they-won’t-they Tinder scenario lack resolution in a context where we seek stories that defy the status quo?
In examining the writing style, Mandelo’s editorial choices seem both ambitious and flawed. The pacing varies dramatically, with some stories feeling like enticing teasers while others drag on without a clear direction. The collection opens with an introduction that bolsters the promise of hopeful imaginings, yet the majority of the stories feel like they’re stuck in a cyclical narrative of despair. I couldn’t help but wonder what future our authors envision when so many narratives reflect ongoing struggles rather than transformative progress.
One memorable moment emerged in "The Orgasm Doula," where we explore the dystopian idea that our emotional and physical experiences are finite, a notion that left me pondering the impact of societal perceptions on sexuality. Yet, I found myself frustrated—why was there so little representation of the fluidity and vibrancy that queerness embodies?
Ultimately, this anthology feels like an echo of current realities rather than a beacon of futuristic hope. For readers seeking solace in uplifting portrayals of queer futures, I find it difficult to recommend Amplitudes. It falls short of the transformative storytelling one might yearn for during such tumultuous times.
In conclusion, while Amplitudes contains gems that spark genuine thought, the overarching narrative feels more like a lamentation than an invitation to dream. If you’re aching for narratives that uplift, resonate, and explore expansive queer experiences, I’d recommend diving into works like Scheherazade’s Façade or Kaleidoscope instead. Those collections promise the diversity and optimism that I had hoped to find in Amplitudes.
This reading experience left me not only frustrated but also determined to seek out stories that celebrate the profound beauty and resilience of queer and trans lives.
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