2024~X1 In The Dream House

Carmen Maria Machado. 2019.

The prose in this memoir was remarkable, with many of the sections reading more like long poems than short chapters.  The memoir itself was poignant, recounting the author's experience in a Queer, poly relationship that was controlling and abusive.  I found the description of the complexity of the psychological abuse to be both unique in the world of abuse memoirs, but in many ways lacking as she dodged details in a way that left me feeling not only curious, but a bit guilty for wanting to understand more about the dynamics of the relationship. 

Some of her self-reflections are raw and reflect themes that I have heard from many survivors over the years of working with them:

"Afterward,  when she will not stop trying to talk to you or emailling you with flowery apologies on Yom Kappur and when people will not believe what you tell them about her and the dream house, you will wish that she had hit you  .Hit you hard enough that you would have bruised in grotesque and obvious ways, hard enough that you took photos.  Hard enough that you went to the cops.  Hard enough that you could have gotten the restraining order that you wanted.  Hard enough that the common sense that evaded you for the entirety of your time in the dream house had been knocked into you.  You have this fantasy, this fucked up fantasy, of being able to whip out your phone and pull up some awful photo of yourself looking glazed and disinterested and have your face is covered in a pulsing star.  This is, as you said, fucked up,  There are millions of people on the blunt end of a lover's fist who pray for the opposite daily or even hourly and to put that wish out into the universe is demented in the extreme.  You will wish for it anyway."

She just didn't shy away from writing about some of the things that are generally not shared, particularly around how survivors are supposed to be grateful that things weren't worse or having to put their own abuse on a scale of ranking abuse by focusing on how much harder others have it.  I found these to be her most powerful passages. 

The prose switched from first person "I" to second person "you," which was her "I" talking to her younger self as if some of the story was being told to and about her "you."  I found this distracting at times, but also an interesting way of conveying a sense of dissociation.
The author is aware of the uniqueness of her story, knowing that narratives of abuse in Queer relationships are not a part of the abuse memoire genre:

"I knew so few Queer people and most of them were my age, still figuring things out themselves.  I imagine that, one day, I will invite young Queers over for tea and cheese platters and advice and I will be able to tell them, you can be hurt by people who look just like you.  Not only can it happen, but it probably will because the world is full of hurt people who hurt people.  Even if the dominant culture considers you an anomaly, that doesn't mean that you can't be common, common as fucking dirt."

One of the things I particularly loved with the author's use of pop culture, particularly references to things I know well, like 80's pop music and Star Trek. Her discussion of the episode Chain of Command was a brilliant analysis of psychological torture, gas lighting, and brain washing in the context of intimate relationships. 

​Recommend. 

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