this is a book which i first attempted to read much earlier in my journey towards existing in a vindicated state of mind and DNFed at the first major moment of trianon having the potential to disappoint oenone (a testament to the truth of this text in depicting trianon and those she stands in for). This time I was able to push through, fueled by some assurances from a friend that this was the kind of book that could change one's life. While i wouldn't go as far as say it did so in any significant manner for me, this is still a very wonderful text with a can-do attitude towards self-help sadomasochism so confidently uttered that i have no issue seeing and applauding its capability to stir up thar special something in the hearts of my peers. there are some moments of note which are to be kept in mind when reading the text as a canon work of faggot-subaltern class consciousness, notably the uncharacteristic excellence of oenone within the role of self-sufficient cis girlfriend and the ocean (ha, ha) of wealth surrounding trianon and insul, but both of these are to me perfectly understandable sacrifices to maintain the purity of the metaphor, letting trianon's actualization be based solely on the relevant thematic elements and lead neatly into just enough financial security that the emotional resolutions of the story don't fall flat in the face of material misery. no real value judgement to those calls to attention, but i think its worth noting and has the potential to alienate some perfectly "worthy" audience members from this novel.
of course, a perfectly correct morality tale only has value if it has the titillation to back it up, and i think especially in the broad strokes Serious Weakness really aces this, every scene bearing countless little erotic nuggets to garnish the forbidden fruit of knowledge promised by the pain and suffering which one comes to realize was never truly "senseless." all this with the undercurrent of a temporal setting which adds greatly to the framing when you'd least expect it, a slow-burn boon to blossom in the reader's perception apace with the romance; both are present throughout the entire novel but creep into the light with delicious caution. This worldbuilding is in no small part constructed with the assumption that many elements of the faggot-subaltern's online cultural "island" will one day seep into common parlance in society, an assumption which guides some of its most "believable as real but also specific enough for that believability to feel profound" moments, such as the emphasis on twitch streamers and "the gachalennium." however, i do think there are moments when in my opinion this assumption goes too far, and only serves to test my suspension of disbelief. am i really to believe that it was a routine fact of the penthouse party that the DJ was playing Goreshit? at its best it paints trianon effectively as a generally in-touch if mildly underground youngster who can give meaningful perspective on the setting when needed by the narrative, but at its worst it has me brushing uncomfortably with the reality that this book appeals to my cultural-islander sensibilities because its author is in all likelyhood on that island too, making the world opened up to insul and trianon at the end of their quest feel that much hollower in its prospects. a discussion of the aesthetics of serious weakness would naturally be incomplete without calling to attention its approach to moment-to-moment construction of text, a healthily eclectic mishmash of styles to match the heightened state of the various mentalities depicted. fundamental adjustments to the prose breathe strong character into otherwise seemingly mundane shifts in mood and moment. strong, and always effective, but unfortunately perhaps not always best fit. yes, i must admit that i chafed decently often against the prose and particularly the poetry, in a manner often hard to place and not too immediately pressing, like sand in my swim trunks, but this is really what kept the novel from that coveted zenith of perfection in my eyes. ill do my best to construct a coherent picture of what my issue was despite my admitted lack of true expertise on the subject.
at my meanest, id call some of the poetic bits almost rupi kaur-esque, the faux-conversatorial line breaks to emulate mental stuttering acting as an honest but perhaps just a little ineffectual tool. the fake morse code bit was to me effective, and the writing was competent enough to of course not overuse those, but i think with a bit more confidence many of the other, not quite as "money shot" bits of narrative corruption could have swung with a bit more force. some more tools in the toolbox perhaps could have been nice, subtle ones, marginally greater variance in construction letting each lapse in normality weigh down on the reader more. this fits in with the general sense that perhaps sometimes the prose wavered where i felt like it ought to have held strong, or vice versa. of course, emulating the mind, such inconsistencies are perfectly realistic and understandable, but i think a second pass with a remeasured hand could have brought a little bit more of an impression that these moments of weakness are "earned" truths of trianon's thought process collapsing in real time, rather than a doylist flourish of narration with explicit watsonian purpose. The specifics of the character of text which grated against me is in all likelihood incredibly minute, and i certainly prefer that it experiments as it does and simply falls short at times, rather than sticking to standard prose, but there's a longing within me for a work of this caliber where i do not get this nagging sense of abrasion, and i look forward to seeing if i find it in other works by this author.
i always feel when talking about this book that i am too forthright with my critiques, afraid of exeptionalizing a text which so obviously bleeds just like all others, but i truly adored getting the chance to follow through with reading it, getting to fall in love with all of its characters. The blake parts were consistently my favorite, i get so easily intoxicated by the feeling of youthful admiration and it was wonderful to swim in such a unique taste of it. it's odd to remember that there are those who would read this book without the natural familiarity i felt as i went through it, not knowing at first brush that its "boys" were never capable of being men, not remembering with a rush how insul's tenderness wounded more than her dissociation, not instinctively distrustful of the promises of anyone who isn't one of our own. I can't speak to the experiences of someone who isn't on our island when reading this novel, but i hope that there are lots who will, and get to know me that much better, i hope that there are many girls on our island who will read it too, and take a step towards developing a vocabulary with which spread the good word of soiling onesself, and i insist that if you have caught glimpses of our island, and feel tugs of curiosity as to how life could be different if you stepped foot on our shores but are just a touch too cautious, that you read this book, learn our love, and have fun tasting the rich black soil when you get pushed into the dirt with us.