Time Is the Thing a Body Moves Through

paperback, 152 pages

Published June 4, 2019 by Coffee House Press.

View on OpenLibrary

4 stars (5 reviews)

How do the bodies we inhabit affect our relationship with art? How does art affect our relationship to our bodies? T Fleischmann uses Felix Gonzáles-Torres’s artworks―piles of candy, stacks of paper, puzzles―as a path through questions of love and loss, violence and rejuvenation, gender and sexuality. From the back porches of Buffalo, to the galleries of New York and L.A., to farmhouses of rural Tennessee, the artworks act as still points, sites for reflection situated in lived experience. Fleischmann combines serious engagement with warmth and clarity of prose, reveling in the experiences and pleasures of art and the body, identity and community.

1 edition

"It's taken a lot of resistance, that I want to leave my gender and my sex life uninscribed—that it took me years to consider the fact that I did not have to name my gender or sexuality at all"

4 stars

I had a weird-for-me experience of really enjoying this book while having several critical feelings about the writing. I think because it's experimental and meandering, with verse sections and fragmentation, and I wanted them to push on those aspects harder. Many beautiful/dirty images and thoughts and moments and I would recommend it. Maybe too obvious a comparison but I found it interesting to read this after having read Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl. Both situate a gender/sex narrative amidst cultural artifacts—for Paul, mostly 80s and 90s alt-pop music, and for Time, Felix Gonzales-Torres's and Roni Horn's sculptures—and the formal outcome of each book seems to turn on (or at least relate to) those choices.

Review of 'Time Is the Thing a Body Moves Through' on 'Goodreads'

3 stars

I really longed to like this more, not least because the title embodies everything I think literature I live us about. And there are raw gems of brilliance in this book which I think make it worth reading, but at least 80 percent are just a slog, that feels like it just throws edgy queer sexuality in your face on repeat in a way to implicate placated emptiness in life all over. It just feels gratuitous and uninspired.

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4 stars
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5 stars
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4 stars