Scan barcode
donut_holer's review against another edition
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
whatsontheshelf's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
joensign's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content and Transphobia
Moderate: Alcohol, Homophobia, and Drug use
conoraflynn's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
funny
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
iconic - truly unique narration and really enjoyed seeing the world through the lens of paul's boundless narcissism. lots of fruity parts read clandestinely on the tube, ending felt a little bit neat but this was really entertaining and gripping throughout
senyook's review against another edition
funny
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
snigdha1's review against another edition
mysterious
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
aplpaca's review against another edition
funny
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content
Moderate: Classism, Homophobia, and Terminal illness
opossumble's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
tdavidovsky's review against another edition
5.0
According to Ancient Greek and Roman myths, Tiresias lived as both man and woman at various points in his life. He later declared that sex was nine times more pleasurable as a woman. A couple thousand years later, Paul Polydoris has a similarly genderfluid life. He is a shapeshifter who likes to alter his sexual characteristics, and his gender seems to be loosely tied to these biological markers, though his actual identity is never pinned down.
Unlike Tiresias, Paul is entrenched in the American queer community of the 90s, which affords him opportunities to engage in an array of gender and sexual experimentation. The book opens with his decision to find out what it’s like to have sex as a girl. (Afterward he doesn’t claim that it’s nine times better than sex as a man. He seems to enjoy almost any kind of sex.) From there, the story only gets more unapologetically queer and sexual.
In this modernization of the Tiresias myths, the story becomes more of a sexy and satirical fairytale than the kind of epic that the Ancient World was famous for (and it’s probably not a coincidence that fairy is another word for gay.) It also takes explicit inspiration from other modern stories about genderfluidity. Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, for example, gets referenced in the book.
Despite modern subversions, styles, and influences, the book leaves the impression that progress still awaits. The gay scene in the 90s is no magical utopia. Paul is the one with magic, and he doesn’t fit in. Because he’s a shapeshifter, he can’t find a label that works for him permanently. He becomes an infiltrator in every community he joins, though he usually refuses to apologize for it. He puts on a performance in many queer spaces in order to be included. While he’s aware that gender is performative, others aren’t ready to embrace this idea. In particular, his lesbian contemporaries would feel deceived or taken advantage of if they were to find out about his shapeshifting, which is why he engages in the deception in the first place. He wouldn’t have to hide the truth if being a shapeshifter were an accepted identity.
Paul seems only slightly bothered by the fact that he has to closet part of himself. For him, hiding is part of the fun, a good challenge. Queerness doesn’t exist without being queer—different, other, strange, deviant. Paul is othered, partially closeted, and forced to consciously perform. He thus embodies queerness more than most. He is determined to enjoy it. He doesn’t always succeed, but he tries his best by adopting a hedonistic lifestyle that involves parties, sex, romance, drugs, music, fashion, petty crime, and experimenting with gender and sexuality.
The book too is stylistically and narratively experimental. Brief fables and fairytales are sprinkled throughout, and there’s some transitioning—pun intended—between perspectives. The result is a fun mess, much like Paul. The book doesn’t have a plot beyond a series of sexual and romantic escapades, and Paul doesn’t grow, learn, or change. His story lacks a satisfying or cathartic conclusion. Without knowing anyone else who experiences gender the way he does, he starts and ends the book lonely.
One other shapeshifter does appear in the story—Robin. Paul variously chases after, pines for, thinks about, and catches glimpses of Robin, but he never finds what he’s looking for. Robin tells Paul that he's asking the wrong question. As a result, Paul can't get answers about who or what he is. The promise of a better future is always just out of reach. For readers in the twenty-first century, it’s obvious that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel for Paul: He’s only a few years away from when nonbinary gender identities become popularized, which might help him find others like him.
To be clear, Tumblr didn't invent gender neutral pronouns, and queer college students in the 90s should at least be able to theorize that gender is a spectrum. However, once he does access the internet, it's likely that Paul might finally be able to find validation, clarity, and community. His own identity is never revealed, but had Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl been set a few years after the 90s, Paul—like author Andrea Lawlor—would probably use gender neutral pronouns. Parts of this book are clearly autobiographical, so it’s not a stretch to make this assumption.
However, as tempting as is to assume, Paul’s identity doesn’t matter. As Robin says, it's not necessarily a questions that needs to be answered. Perhaps Lawlor’s biography can offer modern insights and interpretation of Paul’s story (in the same way that Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl is a reinterpretation and reimagining of the Tiresias myths), but maybe not. At times, Paul wants a label, but he doesn’t need one. He also doesn’t owe anyone an explanation of his identity. Though he is fictional, he resembles enough nonfictional individuals, author included, to make too much speculation about him feel intrusive.
Therefore, if Paul wants to be directionless and uncategorizable for the rest of his life, he can be. While it goes against capitalistic sensibilities about achievement, Paul does not need or want to be fettered by capitalism. The semiautobiographical nature of his story means he isn’t even fettered by the pages themselves, but the author’s biography does not need to determine what his life looks like in the future. Lawlor might live among people who acknowledge, even celebrate, nonbinary individuals, but reality today is no more of a utopia than it was in the 90s. (The world that birthed the Tiresias myths tolerated homosexuality and genderfluidity more than many modern societies, and it does well to remember that the future does not imply progress. The term utopia comes from the Greek word for nowhere. Perhaps such a society only exists in Greek myths.)
Because the book lacks a satisfying closing, it compels readers to invent one. The easy answer is to treat the page with the author’s biography as an epilogue, but readers can challenge themselves to envision something better—to invent a future that is a radically improved version of the real world.
Unlike Tiresias, Paul is entrenched in the American queer community of the 90s, which affords him opportunities to engage in an array of gender and sexual experimentation. The book opens with his decision to find out what it’s like to have sex as a girl. (Afterward he doesn’t claim that it’s nine times better than sex as a man. He seems to enjoy almost any kind of sex.) From there, the story only gets more unapologetically queer and sexual.
In this modernization of the Tiresias myths, the story becomes more of a sexy and satirical fairytale than the kind of epic that the Ancient World was famous for (and it’s probably not a coincidence that fairy is another word for gay.) It also takes explicit inspiration from other modern stories about genderfluidity. Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, for example, gets referenced in the book.
Despite modern subversions, styles, and influences, the book leaves the impression that progress still awaits. The gay scene in the 90s is no magical utopia. Paul is the one with magic, and he doesn’t fit in. Because he’s a shapeshifter, he can’t find a label that works for him permanently. He becomes an infiltrator in every community he joins, though he usually refuses to apologize for it. He puts on a performance in many queer spaces in order to be included. While he’s aware that gender is performative, others aren’t ready to embrace this idea. In particular, his lesbian contemporaries would feel deceived or taken advantage of if they were to find out about his shapeshifting, which is why he engages in the deception in the first place. He wouldn’t have to hide the truth if being a shapeshifter were an accepted identity.
Paul seems only slightly bothered by the fact that he has to closet part of himself. For him, hiding is part of the fun, a good challenge. Queerness doesn’t exist without being queer—different, other, strange, deviant. Paul is othered, partially closeted, and forced to consciously perform. He thus embodies queerness more than most. He is determined to enjoy it. He doesn’t always succeed, but he tries his best by adopting a hedonistic lifestyle that involves parties, sex, romance, drugs, music, fashion, petty crime, and experimenting with gender and sexuality.
The book too is stylistically and narratively experimental. Brief fables and fairytales are sprinkled throughout, and there’s some transitioning—pun intended—between perspectives. The result is a fun mess, much like Paul. The book doesn’t have a plot beyond a series of sexual and romantic escapades, and Paul doesn’t grow, learn, or change. His story lacks a satisfying or cathartic conclusion. Without knowing anyone else who experiences gender the way he does, he starts and ends the book lonely.
One other shapeshifter does appear in the story—Robin. Paul variously chases after, pines for, thinks about, and catches glimpses of Robin, but he never finds what he’s looking for. Robin tells Paul that he's asking the wrong question. As a result, Paul can't get answers about who or what he is. The promise of a better future is always just out of reach. For readers in the twenty-first century, it’s obvious that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel for Paul: He’s only a few years away from when nonbinary gender identities become popularized, which might help him find others like him.
To be clear, Tumblr didn't invent gender neutral pronouns, and queer college students in the 90s should at least be able to theorize that gender is a spectrum. However, once he does access the internet, it's likely that Paul might finally be able to find validation, clarity, and community. His own identity is never revealed, but had Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl been set a few years after the 90s, Paul—like author Andrea Lawlor—would probably use gender neutral pronouns. Parts of this book are clearly autobiographical, so it’s not a stretch to make this assumption.
However, as tempting as is to assume, Paul’s identity doesn’t matter. As Robin says, it's not necessarily a questions that needs to be answered. Perhaps Lawlor’s biography can offer modern insights and interpretation of Paul’s story (in the same way that Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl is a reinterpretation and reimagining of the Tiresias myths), but maybe not. At times, Paul wants a label, but he doesn’t need one. He also doesn’t owe anyone an explanation of his identity. Though he is fictional, he resembles enough nonfictional individuals, author included, to make too much speculation about him feel intrusive.
Therefore, if Paul wants to be directionless and uncategorizable for the rest of his life, he can be. While it goes against capitalistic sensibilities about achievement, Paul does not need or want to be fettered by capitalism. The semiautobiographical nature of his story means he isn’t even fettered by the pages themselves, but the author’s biography does not need to determine what his life looks like in the future. Lawlor might live among people who acknowledge, even celebrate, nonbinary individuals, but reality today is no more of a utopia than it was in the 90s. (The world that birthed the Tiresias myths tolerated homosexuality and genderfluidity more than many modern societies, and it does well to remember that the future does not imply progress. The term utopia comes from the Greek word for nowhere. Perhaps such a society only exists in Greek myths.)
Because the book lacks a satisfying closing, it compels readers to invent one. The easy answer is to treat the page with the author’s biography as an epilogue, but readers can challenge themselves to envision something better—to invent a future that is a radically improved version of the real world.