Aleksandra Steppuhn Steppuhn من عند Playa Blanca, كوبا من عند Playa Blanca, كوبا

For several long years I intended to get started on Middlesex. The book won the Pulitzer Prize for Christ's sake... what was stopping me? I borrowed and returned a copy unread and then picked up my own for $.50 at a book fair. It sat for a long time. Initially the length was the primary turn off -- I'm not scared away by lengthy fiction, but when one day I opened up my copy and read the intro pages, the style turned me off to a 500+ page investment. After I felt I'd waited long enough, and when my selection of next-books-to-read-on-hand got terribly thin, I finally read it. Maybe I didn't get it. I took a "Sexuality in Literature" course and a 400-level discussion course in college about gender and sexuality in America and felt like those discussions and papers combined with my worldly views and my liberal disposition set me up nicely to really accept a book about a hermaphrodite and their life and struggles. What I got what some version of an incestuous, three-generation family history sprinkled with tiny peeks into adult Cal's life living as a man. Once Cal's section of the book comes alive, I wanted to get more about her experiences growing up in a conflicted body. They're there of course, but limited. I guess my expectation was too high? Maybe I was anticipating something more pornographic, or voyeuristic? It just fell flat with me for the most part. When Cal travels to New York my interest was renewed and then quickly faded away again when she leaves shortly thereafter. Considering it is a novel with such praise (again, re: Pulitzer) and the recommendations I'd heard, I was disappointed that I didn't enjoy it. It made me feel less intelligent -- did I miss something? -- what's the hype!?! -- is a problem of relation? On the plus, it was so eloquently written (even if it left me wanting) and it ignited a new interest in Detroit (Middlesex's back drop and maybe even a character in and of itself as it changes significantly over time). At least I can tell myself I read an award winner.