This was unexpected in many ways. Mostly because I had thought, I’m not sure why, that this would be a sort of mock 19th Century novel set in England and probably about people getting married. So I had that feeling you get when you take a sip of your coffee and realise you are drinking from the wrong glass and have a mouthful of chi latte instead of espresso. That this was a book about a Greek American family between about 1900 to about 1980 and told by an intersexual child was just about as far away from what I was expecting as it is possible to get.

I find I’m increasingly wondering about the point of literature lately. And this is a good example of my worries. The parts of this that I thought worked remarkably well where the bits where the book was fairly clearly based on some version of the author’s family’s experience. The story of a Greek couple coming to America, marrying on the ship on the way over, starting a family and then all of the complications of their lives and loves was beautifully crafted and told with an almost Beat Gen urgency that the whole thing raced along and was pure pleasure. The other stories, of incest and of a little girl becoming an adolescent boy, didn’t really work as well for me. I think the kind of magic realism of a lot of this worked against the story in some ways too.

Right, let me explain. I think if you are going to write about someone seriously unusual – and someone doing a Tiresias (a comparison that is used throughout the book, with the main character being compared to Greece’s most famous sex-change artist) then you probably need to make the rest of the novel as normal as possible. The Tiresias comparison is really interesting – Tiresias having perfect vision of the future, our narrator having perfect vision of the past. Oddly enough, I found the stuff at the start – the brother and sister getting married – much more believable then the stuff at the end. The running away and ending up in a kind of swimming porn peep show was all a bit too bizarre for me, I’m afraid.

Even though I’ve warned you there will be spoilers in this review I don’t want to tell you too much as I am a bit worried that people might read go on to read this book anyway, and I really don’t want to overly spoil it for you – I must say there really were lots of things I loved about the book – but some of the twists were just too neat. I spent a lot of the last part of the book thinking I’d had a brain fart and had missed how the grandmother had died. I didn’t like how the Negro silkworm factory story became a family story or how the kidnap story resolved itself – I found both so improbable that they nearly stopped me reading.

But parts of this novel really tasted of saganiki, others of deep fried white bait, I could smell the tang of lemon throughout and sometimes even the woody flavour of Retsina – I mean that, the Greek parts of this book are so nice that I forgive the rest for all else.

Which brings me back to where I started. I really didn’t believe the story of the hermaphrodite, it didn’t ring true to me at all (and there’s another thing – I’ve read Ovid and yet didn’t remember the Hermes and Aphrodite connection – which is very, very strange given the name – if I don’t remember that what do I remember?). But other parts of this were magical.

Exactly the flawless masterpiece you've heard it is. I've read hundreds of novels in my day, & this is in the top 3 (On equal shelf with "A Confederacy of Dunces" & "Blonde." (My own personal trifecta perfecta: The THE the best novels of ALL TIME!)) I will never stop lauding this book. Unbelievable, mythic; the stuff from the Gods to anyone with an eye & brain to receive from the way-up up up heights.

This is LIFE AFFIRMING literature that's meant to be treasured for the rest of your blessed life. The main character will stay with you until the day you die...

Alright, it’s high time I review this hermaphroditic little masterpiece.

Being a pseudo-biochemist (pseudo in the sense that I only pretend to be a biochemist, whereas in reality I write scientific development reports and other documents that no one will ever read but which I’ve convinced myself are just as fulfilling as doing real science), I find the premise of this novel to be incredibly interesting.

5α-Reductase deficiency is an autosomal recessive disorder; autosomal meaning that the gene coding for 5α-Reductase is not located on a sex chromosome (X or Y), and recessive meaning that one would need two copies of a mutated form of the gene in order to express the disease trait. Since we as a biological species inherit one copy of every gene from each of our parents, it would not be enough to have only one mutated form of this gene because a single “good” copy is all that’s required for proper function. Because of this, the proper-functioning gene is considered to be completely dominant over the mutated form in terms of phenotypic expression.

Here is a Punnett square showing basic concepts of Mendelian genetics:

n  n  
n  Each form of the gene is called an allele: “B” represents the dominant allele, or the healthy gene form; “b” represents the recessive allele.n  
n

If both parents are phenotypically “normal,” the only way they would be able to have any offspring with this disease is if they were both carriers, meaning they each have one dominant and one recessive allele. In this way, they are said to be heterozygous for this trait, the genotype of which is represented as “Bb.” For any child they conceive, there would exist a 25% chance of that child inheriting two recessive alleles. This is referred to as being homozygous recessive, the genotype of which is represented as “bb.” Only homozygous recessive children will express the disease.

Since the protagonist of this novel has unluckily inherited both recessive alleles, one from each of his parents, he ends up with the disorder. So what is this disorder, exactly? The 5α-Reductase gene codes for an enzyme which converts testosterone into a potent sex steroid called dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which plays a fundamental role in the formation of the male sex organs. Since disease subjects do not have the ability to convert testosterone into DHT, they end up with too much testosterone and not enough DHT, which in some cases leads to the formation of ambiguous genitalia.

These ambiguous genitalia form one of the many, but probably the most interesting, subjects of the novel. The author begins by tracing the history of these recessive alleles back through the family lineage before elegantly leading us to the budding of the protagonist’s crocus: his ambiguous little penis stub (yes, you should click there; and yes, you should see that movie). Perhaps not surprisingly, the historical tracing reveals some ancestral inbreeding, as well. And since the protagonist is still genotypically male (even though he doesn’t know it and neither do his parents or anybody else), the real fun begins when he enters puberty.

When I met with my book club to talk about this fantastic novel, a few pronoun choices were used for describing the protagonist: he, she, he-she-it, etc. But all joking aside, the protagonist is male. He is male by genotypic definition (he has two healthy sex chromosomes, one of which is a Y), and he sexually identifies himself as male which is consistent with other real-life sufferers of 5α-Reductase deficiency.

Ίσως δεν πρέπει να χρησιμοποιώ τη λέξη αριστούργημα παρά μόνο σε εξαιρετικές περιπτώσεις όπως αυτή. Το είχα διαβάσει όταν βγήκε, με είχε συνταράξει αλλά μετά από 15 χρόνια ακόμα και από ένα τέτοιο βιβλίο δε θυμάσαι και πολλά. Αξίζει να ξαναδιαβαστεί όπως το αξίζουν και όλα τα σπουδαία βιβλία που έχουμε συναντήσει στη ζωή μας, μια πολυτέλεια -πλέον- στην οποία δεν υποκύπτω με τόση ευκολία λόγω πίεσης χρόνου, τεράστιας λίστας to-read που προκύπτει από τη συνεχή ροή πληροφορίας στο ίντερνετ και αυξανόμενου όγκου αδιάβαστων βιβλίων στο σπίτι. Είναι από τις μεγαλύτερες απολαύσεις μου όμως και πρέπει το re-read να ξαναμπεί στη ζωή μου έστω και εις βάρος όλων των παραπάνω.
Λόγοι για τους οποίους βρίσκω το Middlesex αριστούργημα - πέρα από τους προφανείς:
1. Η ανάπτυξη χαρακτήρων. Τόσο δουλεμένη, τόσο λεπτομερής, τόσο άρτια.
2. Η γραμμική εξέλιξη της ιστορίας, κάτι που μου λείπει πολύ στα σύγχρονα φιλόδοξα μυθιστορήματα.
3. Ο επίλογος, που παραμένει για μένα το σημαντικότερο κομμάτι στα βιβλία.

#readathon18 [24/26] ~ [ένα βιβλίο που θα έπρεπε να διδάσκεται στα σχολεία]

"I think love breaks all taboos, don't you?"

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
Narrated by Kristoffer Tabori

Mr. Eugenides can do everything, or at least I am convinced of such after reading Middlesex.

I passed on this book for a long time. I kept picking it up in bookstores and putting it down. I've seen quotes from it everywhere, all of which were beautiful, and kept hearing wonderful things about it from friends. To be perfectly honest, what kept me from picking it up in the subject: a hermaphrodite. I think of myself as someone with an open mind, but the thing is that I just wasn't sure if I'd be able to relate to much in this story. I made a very foolish assumption, and I'm quite embarassed about it.

Middlesex is a slow burner (my new favorite term). It begins with the story of Cal/Calliope's grandparents, which seems unnecessary in the beginning, but which makes more sense with each passing page. The story then passes on to the parents, then Cal.

A couple pages in, Eugenides describes a rather gruesome scene, and this was my signal that this is a no-holds-barred kind of author. He goes there. (This isn't to say that the book is filled with gruesome moments, just that he's not afraid to use them when he must.)

To address the smoking gun, so to speak, yes, the main character is a Hermaphrodite. Though the reader knows it throughout the book, the main character doesn't know until they're older. It seems incredulous, but Eugenides makes it work, and makes this believable. He was smart to do things this way, because I was on the edge of my seat waiting for Calliope to discover the truth. And, most likely, he keeps a lot more not-so-open minded readers this way.

There's a very frank beauty about this book - he doesn't gloss over anything, but despite the many struggles of the three generations, he doesn't feel it necessary to make his reality very bleak, either. Even when the book is at its darkest, most depressing, you're filled with sadness, but also with hope.

The other great thing about Middlesex, aside from its incredible cast of characters is how well it captures society in history - first in Detroit in the '20s (a more bleak picture than '20s of The Great Gatsby), then the '60s. The '20s are focused on the invention of the automobile - the people putting them together as opposed to the people driving them, and the impact that being part of an assembly line and big business had on people, and of course, prohibition. With the '60s, Eugenides tackles race so marvelously - the chapter about the Detroit riots is probably the best in the book, for all of the anxiety and imagery that he evokes. This book is really just as much about middle class America and family ties as it is about sexuality.

Don't make the mistake that I made by continually passing on this book - read it!

I have to admit I was sorely disappointed with this book. I expected… well… greatness! It won a Pulitzer for God’s sake! I guess the Pulitzer Prize must be more political than I thought, because I cannot for the life of me understand what about this book’s writing was particularly ground-breaking. Sure, the subject matter is flashy, but I felt that the “epic scope” this novel was trying to achieve fell rather flat. The book's prose was not amazingly poetic, nor was the novel’s construction. I feel the book relied too heavily on the multi-generational back story it provides to launch it into the realm of say  East of Eden or  The House of the Spirits; but it never quite hit the same height Steinbeck or Allende achieved. The novel was only sprawling in the time period it accounts for, not in its universal appeal.

I expected more insight from such a highly acclaimed book, but as it was I found the main characters 2-dimensional and transparent. The author seems to have very little respect for his characters – they are like puppets he uses to act out the “greater moral themes” of the book, regardless of whether or not these actions are respectful of the characters’ unique personalities. A cruel and unforgiving propaganda piece; literary only at face-value.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C0txoDgrF...

An incredible modern classic. Middlesex is a sweeping family saga told from the perspective of Cal Stephanides as he muses on his family history, his gender identity and mental health as an intersex individual, and the many cultural and political events that shaped his experiences. This novel is alive with personality- animated, sassy, and philosophical, Cal is an unforgettable narrator. Middlesex is ambitious in its contents, covering wartime politics, family secrets, lgbtq+ history, the immigrant experience, and how cultural and demographics shape our perception of identity and love; yet, it is told with such wit and vibrancy that it comes together into a wonderfully chaotic tale that feels real. Funny, epic, and heartfelt, this is a novel that is worthy of its praise, and a treat to read.

Εξαιρετικό έργο, από έναν ιδιαίτερα ταλαντούχο συγγραφέα, του οποίου η ικανότητα της αφήγησης είναι εντυπωσιακή. Θίγει ένα θέμα taboo (δυστυχώς) για την σημερινή κοινωνία με πολύ ωραίο τρόπο, με τον τρόπο δηλαδή που θα έπρεπε να αντιμετωπίζουμε ως "προοδευτική" σύγχρονη κοινωνία. Είναι, επίσης, ενδιαφέροντα τα ιστορικά στοιχεία για την καταστροφή της Σμύρνης και από την άλλη μια συνοπτική περιγραφή της Αμερικής του πρώτου μισού του 20ού αιώνα.

People are always asking me what I'm reading these days. Whether I chalk it up to a need for entertainment during pandemic isolation or the usual summer read queries, I'm always happy to talk books and recommend where possible. What surprised me during my reading of Middlesex was just how often I got a "Oh, I've read that, it's great!" Indeed, as I read along I found more and more of my non-Goodreads friends, and even those who aren't huge readers, had read and loved this book. It's kind of rare for me to be on the other side of a swell of recommendations, but I'm happy to report that Middlesex definitely lives up to its well-deserved hype and wide audience.

I think the sales' pitch most people get for Middlesex centres on Calliope Stephanides evolution into Cal Stephanides, but there's a whole lot more here worth mentioning. The novel is a sprawling, detailed, and meticulously constructed multigenerational tale. Indeed, though Cal's celebrated and memorable narration snapped up my attention in the novel's opening lines, I was a little surprised to find out that Calliope isn't even born until midway through the book. Nonetheless, I was never disappointed to spend time with Lefty and Desdemona on their immigration from Greece to Detroit and always excited to see what became of the various members of the Stephanides family tree. To my scientific eye, I thought the familial tale told through a recessive gene was accurate and eloquent. If only all my medical papers were as pleasant to read!

Though the story didn't always light my hair on fire, Eugenides writing was like gas on a grass fire. Even though it can be occasionally dense, it was never a chore to get through Middlesex. Instead, it was rather like indulging in a rich delicacy, one worth savouring in small increments. Though the book works very well on a sentence-to-sentence basis, it sings over paragraphs and chapters with ornately constructed and compelling writing. Though I'm excited to read more Eugenides (this is my first), I do wonder if he is able to capture lightning in a bottle in quite the same way he did with Cal's signature omniscient style and voice.

On a personal note, Middlesex ended up being the perfect novel to read in the late days of my wife's pregnancy and the arrival of our firstborn son. The various pregnancies, births, and family structures across generations bloomed in moments of personal anticipation, trepidation, and relatability. It's always special when the right book finds you at the right time--Middlesex has been living on my shelves for years--and I think my personal circumstances enhanced my experience of the novel.

Even though I'm all about Middlesex, I didn't feel the red-hot poker of absolute adoration I have for some of my other favourite novels of the year. Instead I've got a continuous and even-keeled sense of enjoyment and appreciation in the hours since I finished the read. It's undoubtedly a five-star read* and is easily recommendable, but doesn't quite unseat two or three other favourites from the year. In any case, don't mind me sorting through my arbitrary personal rankings, Middlesex is 100% a novel worth your time.

*Upon further reflection, I've downgraded this one to a very solid 4-star rating. I've read some really terrific novels and short story collections in 2020 that kind of put this one into perspective a little more. Still a great and recommended read from me!

This the seventh book of my 2020 Pulitzer Challenge.

ex ovo omnia:  everything comes out of an egg.



Yowsers, there are over twenty thousand reviews of this book on this site alone, so no, cannot say that I’ve read them all, but it does get me to thinking ………..

I enjoyed this book way more than I expected.  And yet my expectations were misinformed by assumptions, most of which were my own, not the least of which was about the title.

Sometimes when reading I feel compelled to slow down, take my time.  Such was the case with this book.  It’s a marathon, not a sprint and I was fine with that. I felt comfortable with the pace and manner in which Eugenides chose to tell this story.

This story affected me deeply.
It is funny and tragic
Rich and abundant
Tender and expansive

In fact I love what Andrew O’Hehir said:
“A heart breaking tale of growing up awkward and lonely in 70’s suburbia.”

It is as much a historic and social novel of Detroit as it is about immigration and assimilation on a much grander stage and it is narrated by one of the most complex, engaging and memorable characters I have ever encountered.  I will not soon forget you Cal.

Some would say that this is an American story.
And it is.
It is also a very human one.



Pssst book junkies
I found this at one of my city's used bookstores in the downtown core. It is a beautiful hard cover, with a magnificent jacket. Love the cover design and, and , and, it is in pristine condition. Definitely leave laying about worthy!

This would have been better as an NPR story or an episode of "This American Life" than a novel. Or maybe if someone other than Eugenides had written it. An interesting idea, and a few engrossing sex scenes (I like the "crocus" and the peep-tank, and the whole long flirtation with The Object drew me in completely), and a nice two pages toward the end when Julie accepts Cal for what he is. But the prose was awful: frequent maneuvers like "And me? That's simple. I was . . . " are really unacceptable. And "Sing, Muse, of Greek ladies and their battle against unsightly hair!" is about as funny as poop.

Except for the incest, the long family-history plot was like a mashup of immigrant dramas from cable TV: Greek family barely escapes home country to make it to the United States, where they wander through 20th century history in a dull procession of unmotivated Gumpy forays into Wikipedia that have no effect whatsoever on their character development. (Now we'll shove these characters through Prohibition! mass production! the Detroit race riots! The partition of Cyprus! San Francisco hippies! the tragedy of Michael Dukakis's helmet moment! and . . . the founding of the Nation of Islam!)

The incest part of the story was good in the beginning -- the early love scenes between the grandparents are wonderful -- and then impressively tedious (Desdemona feels guilt! and then . . . she feels guilt again!). The metaphors are embarassingly bad: Cal lives on a street named Middlesex, and eventually finds reconciliation of the two sides of himself in Berlin after reunification. Why not have Desdemona live on "I Feel Guilty For Sleeping With My Brother Boulevard"?

Cal remains completely undefined as a character, except in terms of his understandably tough time figuring out his own identity; "confused" isn't much of a character. Everyone else in the book fails to exist at all. Jimmy Zizmo turns out to be the founder of the Nation of Islam? Eugenides says self-importantly that "you've probably guessed" that -- no! Not only did I not guess it, it doesn't make any sense, logical or emotional, and it's completely uninteresting. Why not have him turn out to be Richard Nixon? Uncle Mike turns out to be a psychopath who extorts his own family? Why? Who cares?

Cal's lack of voice or character is the worst thing: if your book aims to show readers what it's like inside the world of an intersex person, you should show us that world from the inside in a way that makes sense, or at least a way that's interesting. Cal has no voice, no face, no identity. What voice there is is completely inconsistent with his behavior -- the current Cal is reticent, shy, depressed, lonely, and retiring; our narrator is open, boisterous, discursive, ironic, omniscient for no particular reason, and irritatingly jokey.

And the book no more has ideas about sexuality than it does about Cal's character. As one reviewer said, the most disappointing thing about the book is it ends up reinforcing stereotyped, dumb ideas about gender (like "Breasts have the same effect on me as on anyone with my testosterone level" -- as if there were no gays). Callie's pursuit of The Object doesn't make her question categories, it just convinces her she's a boy. There is no middle sex here; there's no middle ground; it's more gawking than Tiresias-like insight.