Fairest: A Memoir by Meredith Talusan (English) Paperback Book

Description: Fairest by Meredith Talusan Finalist for the 2021 Lambda Literary Award for Transgender Nonfiction "Talusan sails past the conventions of trans and immigrant memoirs." --The New York Times Book Review "A ball of light hurled into the dark undertow of migration and survival." --Ocean Vuong, author of On Earth Were Briefly GorgeousA love story with the heart of Austen classics and a reflective journey of becoming that shift our own perceptions of romance, identity, gender, and the fairness of life.Fairest is a memoir about a precocious boy with albinism, a "sun child" from a rural Philippine village, who would grow up to become a woman in America. Coping with the strain of parental neglect and the elusive promise of U.S. citizenship, Talusan found comfort from her devoted grandmother, a grounding force as she was treated by others with special preference or public curiosity. As an immigrant to the United States, Talusan came to be perceived as white, and further access to elite circles of privilege but required Talusan to navigate through the complex spheres of race, class, sexuality, and queerness. Questioning the boundaries of gender, Talusan realized she did not want to be confined to a prescribed role as a man, and transitioned to become a woman, despite the risk of losing a man she deeply loved. Throughout her journey, Talusan shares poignant and powerful episodes of desirability and love that will remind readers of works such as Call Me By Your Name and Giovannis Room. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Meredith Talusan (she/they) is the author of the critically-acclaimed memoir Fairest from Viking/Penguin Random House, a Lambda Literary Award Finalist. Her essays have also appeared in The New York Times, The Guardian, The Atlantic, The Nation, WIRED, SELF, and Condé Nast Traveler, among other publications, and her fiction is published or forthcoming in Guernica, Boston Review, The Rumpus, Grand, and BLR. She has received awards from GLAAD, The Society of Professional Journalists, and the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. She is also the founding executive editor of them, Condé Nasts LGBTQ+ digital platform, where she is currently contributing editor. Review Selected as a Most Anticipated Book of 2020 by:O: The Oprah magazineBitchThe MillionsLitHubElectric LitBuzzFeedThe RumpusPaste Asian JournalOne of O magazines Best LGBTQ Books 2020 People Pick for JuneOne of Logo/NewNowNexts "11 Queer Books We Cant Wait to Read This Spring""By painting her life in such exquisite detail, Talusan breathes new life into the well-worn body of the transgender life story, showing the reader deep wells of complexity where, in a less truthful or less talented writers hands, oversimplification and cliché might reign."—The Boston Globe"A marvel of a story wrought with near-archeological precision and deep inquiry into history, hope, joy and human redemption. An artists statement that offers new ways to think and feel in bodies cast ashore, Fairest is a ball of light hurled into the dark undertow of migration and survival. It is also funny, utterly alive, and fashioned with care and hope." —Ocean Vuong, author of On Earth Were Briefly Gorgeous "A searching, rigorously self-examining memoir, Fairest grapples beautifully and seriously with questions of gender, race, colorism, migration, colonialism, queerness, privilege, class, and belonging. A debut luminous with insight."—R.O. Kwon, author of The Incendiaries"Fairest is a powerful panoptic memoir which frames the totality of a life being lived, not just the fractions of it. Its a love story, a queer story, an immigrant story, an American story, a coming of age story—a revolutionary story. A most necessary and important book in a world which aims to other us from not just who we are, but who we are meant to become." —Amber Tamblyn, author of Era of Ignition"Meredith Talusan has written a truly brilliant memoir with sparkling sentences, navigating incredibly complex questions of privilege with ease and candor. Everything here feels true and necessary--a rare literary accomplishment. Ill recommend this book to my queer family and my Arkansan family alike, and to students who want to know why we continue to believe in the power of memoir." —Garrard Conley, author of Boy Erased "Fairest is a deeply humane, beautifully powerful memoir that resists easy categorization. It is a story, after all, about Talusans heroic refusal to accept simplistic and harmful narratives about the body--as a trans person, an immigrant to America, and a white-skinned Filipina. Talusans acrobatic feat here is to create an accessible and sophisticated negotiation of identity on a national and geopolitical scale that hews beautifully to a nuanced, coming-of-age story of love and loss and finding oneself in the wreckage that will surely resonate with readers of all backgrounds. A gorgeous and necessary memoir." —Thomas Page McBee, author of Man Alive and Amateur"Meredith Talusans Fairest is a story of crossing boundaries—of race, of gender, of convention. In this wise and brilliant memoir, she travels from one side of the globe to the other—but more profoundly, she takes us to the center of her passionate, fiery heart. Fairest is a gorgeous, gnarly addition to the canon of transgender memoir."—Jennifer Finney Boylan, author of Shes Not There and Good Boy "Gorgeously written, exquisitely perceptive, and flagrantly new, Fairest tells of a life in pursuit of beauty— of the flesh, of literature and music, and the beauty of becoming ones self in all complexity. Meredith Talusans coming of age story is also a coming of identity, as she navigates her life first as a gay man, then as a trans woman, and always as a white-passing, albino Filipino-American, refracted through the eyes of others and ultimately through her own. There is much to learn here about identity, and so very much pleasure in the written word." —Alex Marzano-Lesnevich, author of The Fact of a Body"Talusan is one of the most stellar essayists writing today, and one of the very best at examining the many different meanings of transition."—O: The Oprah Magazine"An award-winning journalist tells the story of how she came to terms with a complex identity that forced her to navigate issues of gender, race, and class…. The author examines queer otherness with relentless honesty, and she investigates how accidental whiteness did not automatically lead to the fairest outcomes, either for herself or others. A captivatingly eloquent memoir."—Kirkus"This elegant memoir examining whiteness, womanhood, and the shaping of identity will resonate with readers of any community, LGBTQ or not."—Publishers Weekly, starred review"Meredith Talusans Fairest is a poignant, powerful, poetic triumph of a book. Talusan breaks up and remakes her world, expands and contracts time; her childhood in the Philippines as a sensitive child with albinism; her gender transition; her bildungsroman as an essayist; her staggering reflections on race, class, and sexuality. Especially salutary is the incisive final essay, Lady Wedgwood–an honest, heartbreaking honoring of a love that ran its course, a love that enfolds and enfloods despite its ending."—Mira Assaf Kafantaris, The Millions"In this journey across gender, Talusan communicates the captivating story of what it means to be true to ones self"—Bethanne Patrick, The Washington Post"Talusan masterfully traces the narrative of her life"—Los Angeles Review of Books"tender, fierce and illuminating"—Kim Hubbard, People"Fairest is a beautiful, riveting read. Perfect for these times."—Washington Blade"In this coming-of-age memoir, Talusan writes of her extraordinary life — from being raised in the Philippines with albinism to immigrating to America, being seen as white, attending Harvard and transitioning to a woman. Gender, race, identity, love, art. Its no wonder Talusans book is a finalist for the 2021 Lambda Literary Award for Transgender Nonfiction."—CNN.com"The title Fairest takes on many forms in Meredith Talusans debut memoir….Talusan gives a stellar and engrossing account of her immigration and transition, inviting us to consider what looks like fairness in our own personal lives."—Esquire Review Quote Selected as a Most Anticipated Book of 2020 by: O: The Oprah magazine Bitch The Millions LitHub Electric Lit BuzzFeed The Rumpus Paste Asian Journal One of O magazine s Best LGBTQ Books 2020 People Pick for June One of Logo/NewNowNext s "11 Queer Books We Cant Wait to Read This Spring" "By painting her life in such exquisite detail, Talusan breathes new life into the well-worn body of the transgender life story, showing the reader deep wells of complexity where, in a less truthful or less talented writers hands, oversimplification and clich Excerpt from Book 1. Among my people, it is a widely held belief that an infant would become whatever its mother had craved-sugar and a child would turn out sweet, for instance, or plantains and the baby would grow sturdy. Pregnant women were therefore advised not to spend too much time in the sun and certainly not to stare at it directly, for fear that their baby would be born anak araw, a sun child, the strangest creature whose skin was so pale it glowed, and who couldnt open its eyes except to squint, destined to be nearly blind, an affront against nature. Yet on the long bus ride from my parents house in Manila to my hometown of Talacsan in the province of Bulacan, my grandmother Nanay Coro told me that as soon as she held me in her arms, she was sure I was a blessing. She refused to allow anyone to talk about me any other way, especially because I was destined to live in America, the richest of countries, where Mamas father, Lolo Bert, had settled, full of people who looked like me. And anyway, I wasnt like other anak araw. My mother stayed away from the sun when she was pregnant but craved sweet corn, and so that was how I must have ended up with corn silk hair and fair skin. Though I did burn in the sun, I wasnt near blind like I was supposed to be, only nearsighted, which was lucky since I wouldnt have known what to do with myself if I couldnt read. As our bus sped across the highway through an endless series of rice paddies, which I perceived as patches of yellowish brown since it was April and the fields had been harvested, my grandmother assured me that I was meant for a better future than her and our ancestors, farmers who had tilled soil in the fields surrounding our village for generations. "This is because you are fair and beautiful," she said, "not dark and ugly like me." I learned not to protest because Id heard similar words many times before, not just from her but from other relatives and neighbors in Talacsan, where I lived until I was three. Id spent the last two years going to school in Manila and only making weekend visits back to the place I still considered home, but after my grandmother discovered that Mama had been locking me in my bedroom to go out after I fell asleep, and having learned that a distant cousin had died in a fire in the middle of the night, she insisted that I return to Talacsan and wait another year to start first grade with other kids my age. "There are people in Manila who think I look abnormal," I said. "Theyre just jealous they dont have a child like you." I looked forward to living in Talacsan again, where no one found me strange. We eventually got to the bus station in Baliwag, the closest city to our municipality, where Nanay and I walked to the jeepney stand for our town. There were no jeepneys when we got there, which meant that it would be at least a thirty-minute wait, so Nanay Coro decided to stop by the dry market to get some supplies. On our way, we passed by a store that sold cassettes, and I asked my grandmother if she would buy me one. Papa owned cassettes back in Manila, but Id never had one of my own. We came in from the afternoon light, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of that tiny stall, where a woman sat over a glass cabinet filled with cassettes. We were in a hurry, so Nanay Coro asked the store owner to suggest a tape for me to buy. The woman contemplated for a moment, then opened the cabinet to pull out a cassette titled "Small Voice," with a picture of a girl in pigtails named Lea Salonga. "Shes not as white as you but her voice is beautiful," the woman said. The vehicle was nearly full when we returned to the stand, but people made room. The jeepney had padded seats and open windows on two sides. In the middle were various goods obtained from Baliwag-fruits and vegetables, sacks of rice, even an actual chicken in a wire cage. There were murmurs once we got on, and I sat on Nanay Coros lap. "Your skin is so white!" the woman next to me exclaimed as she touched my arm. The jeepney rumbled then began to move, and I looked out the window to observe the path to my village. We turned onto a dirt road that led to our municipality, San Rafael, Bulacan, and drove through a succession of villages-Caingin, Pantubig, Poblacion-groups of mostly wooden houses with thatch roofs, the larger ones raised one story high to protect them from floods, with a few newer ones made of concrete blocks piled on top of one another, filled with cement, then painted in bright, pastel colors. Our route took us by the vast Angat River, visible down a slope, past trees and rows of raised wooden houses near its bank. I craned my neck to see the other side of the river as the jeepney passed, just a flurry of green and brown patches, and I asked Nanay Coro whether there were boats that traveled across the water. "Sometimes," she replied. "But most people just go by land." "They could build a bridge." "The river is too wide here," she replied. "They can only do that in America." Everything seemed easier in America-easier to live, easier to travel. As I gazed across the river, I recognized that even though I loved it here, there was another part of me that was so curious about elsewhere, and I would always have to pick between my riverbank or the other, home or away from home, the Philippines or America. The thought of it left me with a sadness Id never felt before. Though I grew happy again when I registered the long stretch of fields that led to our village, as the jeepneys motor emitted a soft roar on its way up the long hill, our family house near the top, a wooden structure raised on a foundation of stones. I was home. I ran up the stairs and told my younger aunt Tita Nanette, a plump girl only three years older than me, that Nanay Coro got me Lea Salongas cassette. My grandmother took out a portable tape player from inside a dresser, as the three of us sat on the wooden bench in our common room and listened to the tape for the first time. I was unprepared for the beauty of Lea Salongas voice-clear and resonant as a church bell-so it took me some moments to notice that she sang in English, and I didnt fully understand her. But once I did recognize the language her songs were in, I sensed that Lea didnt sing in English like other Filipino singers Id heard on the radio, because she sounded actually American, in a way I couldnt describe. My grandmother and aunt left me to prepare dinner, but I stayed on that bench and listened to the entire album, then listened to it again, and so many more times over the following days and weeks that my family teased me about having a crush on Lea. Id been exposed to English through TV shows and American pop music on the radio, but when I listened to that girl, I felt an urge to learn the language like her, so I could sing her songs as well as she did. I tried to copy her pronunciation, and over time, I too became aware of vs and ths that didnt exist in Tagalog, and that my tongue needed to relax so I could pronounce Englishs softer sounds. If a Filipino girl like Lea could develop the ability to perfect her English and sound American, then I became hopeful I could someday learn English so well that everyone would just think of me as an American boy, that no one would ever know where I actually came from. One night, I figured out that I could listen to Lea Salonga in the dark before bed, even when my grandparents and aunts slept with me on the seagrass mat in our common room, under a giant mosquito net. If I pressed my ear against the tape recorders speaker, I could play "Small Voice" low enough that I wouldnt disturb them but loud enough that I could hear. I mouthed Leas words when she sang and found to my wonder that the direct contact between the speaker and my ear formed a connection between Leas voice, my mind, and my mouth, so I felt the eerie sensation that Lea was singing through me, as those wondrous sounds vibrated inside my body. For a moment, it felt as if I was Lea Salonga herself, and that feeling made me want to be her, so much that I wouldnt mind being a girl if only I were blessed with her voice. The next afternoon, after she had finished her chores and the sun was no longer too punishing, Nanay Coro took me to see relatives on the other side of our village. My grandmother used an umbrella to protect me from the sun, as we left our house and walked down the dirt road that ran through our hamlet of a few hundred people. We passed the town chapel, a couple of sundry stores, and porches where mostly men and a few women whiled the day away playing billiards or cards. Nanay Coro greeted everyone and encouraged me to do the same, though I tried not to be overly enthusiastic so we wouldnt end up lingering too long. Our neighbors were used to me by then, not like in other towns, where children and their mothers often ran after me to touch my hair and skin. Still, several women we passed exclaimed, "Hes so white!" when they saw me. Id learned to take my special place in our village for granted, how I could command attention just by showing up, make people squeal or clap with a cute expression. One of the houses on our path belonged to Nanang Lita, a distant cousin of my grandmothers, who had a twelve-year-old son named Jembong. We found him sitting on top of his mothers cement porch balustrade, in bright blue shorts and a thin, sleeveless shirt, one leg on the railing and another swinging down to the ground, supporting himself with one hand behind him like one of those pinup girls Id seen in Papas magazines. "Have you found a boyfriend yet?" Nanay Cor Details ISBN0525561323 Author Meredith Talusan Short Title Fairest Pages 320 Language English Year 2021 ISBN-10 0525561323 ISBN-13 9780525561323 Format Paperback Subtitle A Memoir Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2021-06-08 NZ Release Date 2021-06-08 US Release Date 2021-06-08 UK Release Date 1900-01-01 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Publication Date 2021-06-08 Imprint Penguin USA DEWEY B Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:132224407;

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