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A review by jonscott9
My Pinup by Hilton Als
4.0
After reading a couple ill-informed, ill-thought (if-thought) reviews on here for this slender memoir, my vigor for Goodreads is waning. It's autobiography, folks; it's not a biography of Prince or any specific experience, album, song or writing process he had. Not for you? If it's so taxing for you, then just shut up and find a different 46 pages to read instead of leaving an insipid, low-star review.
This little jam of "a paean to Prince" (its subtitle) got me thinking and feeling in major keys. From the solo music of Durand Jones to serpentwithfeet to this music-laced memoir, from James Baldwin to Saeed Jones to Brandon Taylor, I have been focusing a lot in the last many months on the Black male/queer experience. That was unwitting until pondering this book, but I am indebted to them for having my perspective broadened by learning about the depth of Black queer joy and pain. Often it's joyful pain. One can hear or read it in the voice of each of these and others who give us so many gifts in words and melodies.
This relative pamphlet-essay begins with a truly cringe-inducing dissection of an extended joke delivered live by Jamie Foxx, on a 2002 standup-comedy special, about Prince's presence, his aura and effeminate ways. Dear reader, it sucks. Jamie Foxx sucks.
Prince's ways of shifting as needed in the culture and in business, code-switching his Blackness and queerness at times to be more palatable to the most mainstream (white) audiences of the time is something that Hilton Als, who interviewed Prince and observed him a lot over time, addresses at length here. With emotional and skillful abandon, he rather deftly parlays The Purple One's ways into an autobiographical requiem for a relationship he himself had, with the dance floor and with a man, that went south in the AIDS era.
These four dozen pages are illuminating, challenging and compelling. Thanks to Hilton Als. Thanks to Prince (who could be a lot to work with or know; just read Sinead O'Connor's memoir for that chapter, oof), and thanks to all the folx aforementioned here. I will keep studying and listening. I will find more such voices and learn from them, too.
This little jam of "a paean to Prince" (its subtitle) got me thinking and feeling in major keys. From the solo music of Durand Jones to serpentwithfeet to this music-laced memoir, from James Baldwin to Saeed Jones to Brandon Taylor, I have been focusing a lot in the last many months on the Black male/queer experience. That was unwitting until pondering this book, but I am indebted to them for having my perspective broadened by learning about the depth of Black queer joy and pain. Often it's joyful pain. One can hear or read it in the voice of each of these and others who give us so many gifts in words and melodies.
This relative pamphlet-essay begins with a truly cringe-inducing dissection of an extended joke delivered live by Jamie Foxx, on a 2002 standup-comedy special, about Prince's presence, his aura and effeminate ways. Dear reader, it sucks. Jamie Foxx sucks.
Prince's ways of shifting as needed in the culture and in business, code-switching his Blackness and queerness at times to be more palatable to the most mainstream (white) audiences of the time is something that Hilton Als, who interviewed Prince and observed him a lot over time, addresses at length here. With emotional and skillful abandon, he rather deftly parlays The Purple One's ways into an autobiographical requiem for a relationship he himself had, with the dance floor and with a man, that went south in the AIDS era.
These four dozen pages are illuminating, challenging and compelling. Thanks to Hilton Als. Thanks to Prince (who could be a lot to work with or know; just read Sinead O'Connor's memoir for that chapter, oof), and thanks to all the folx aforementioned here. I will keep studying and listening. I will find more such voices and learn from them, too.