| Title | : | The Call-Out |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | - |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 144 |
| Publication | : | First published November 8, 2022 |
| Awards | : | Lambda Literary Award Transgender Fiction (2023) |
A fast-paced, debut tragicomedy of manners written in verse about queer (mostly trans) women that is funny, literary, philosophical, witty, sometimes bitchy and sometimes heartbreaking.
Anvi, Kate, Bette, Keiko, Gaia, and Day are six queer, mostly trans women surviving and thriving in Brooklyn. Visiting all the fixtures of fashionable 21st century queer society—picnics, literary readings, health conferences, drag shows, punk houses, community accountability processes, Grindr hookups—The Call-Out also engages with pressing questions around economic precarity, sexual consent, racism in queer spaces, and feminist theory, in the service of asking what it takes to build, or destroy, a marginalized community.
A novel written in verse, The Call-Out recalls the Russian literary classic Eugene Onegin, but instead of 19th century Russian aristocrats crudely solved their disagreements with pistols, the participants in this rhyming drama have developed a more refined weapon, the online call-out, a cancel-culture staple. In this passionate tangle of modern relationships, where a barbed tweet can be as dangerous as the narrator’s bon-mots, Cat Fitzpatrick has fashioned a modern novel of manners that gives readers access to a vibrant cultural underground.
The Call-Out Reviews
-
"The Call-Out" is a comedy of manners, in verse, based loosely on the Russian novel "Eugene Onegin," about trans drama in NYC. It completely delivers on this setup. Honestly if that alone doesn't make you want to read it what the hell would? But I'll spend a little more time on this review.
A novel in verse in 2022 is ambitious. Cat Fitzpatrick is more than competent enough as both a poet and a storyteller to make it work. This novel is as funny as you would expect, but it also surprised me with how poignant it was. Some well-placed softer moments, along with insights about transness or youth or life, give us a chance to really care about the characters and hope they make it through the mess of drama they find themselves in. And that mess of drama is sad and funny and frustrating and accurate.
Communities are hard.
ARC provided by Seven Stories Press through the bookstore where I work. -
"but care's not a substance. It's an action we do."
-
the fact that someone can write an entire novel in rhyme is insaaaane to me!! it was so well written and gripping…
the actual story has so many wonderful layers and all these expertly crafted contradictions. the characters feel real and alive and their struggles raw and frank!! I loved it -
This just felt very….forced? I think the rhyming pushed it over the edge for me.
-
A novel in verse is a hard sell for most (including me). But this managed to keep me hooked and even enjoying the format. It's difficult to read at times, and all the protagonists are so achingly flawed, but it's also light and funny. What a feat Fitzpatrick has pulled off.
The book follows seven women, either trans or trans-adjacent, living in the Big Apple and figuring out their lives. It takes place as blog posts (something that only feels justified in the epilogue) written in rhyming scheme which mirrors that of Eugene Onegin, from here:
Seattle Opera educational resources:
Pushkin’s verse poem Eugene Onegin consist of
some 100 14-line sonnet-like stanzas written in iambic tetrameter, with a rhyme scheme of ABAB; CCDD; EFFEGG.
The verse is very easy to read and stops feeling like a gimmick quickly. It's most effective during transitions between one couple and another the narrative being swept along in the movement of the stanza.
The content itself was deeper than I expected from the rom-com cover and marketing. It's explores how understanding gender/race/relational identity is different to living it and applying it. It explores cancel culture. It explores stewardship and mentoring. It explores consent and morality and punishment.
I don't think it has many answers but it certainly raises a lot of questions and it would be incredible material for a book club - there are so many ideas to unpack here. What I really enjoy is how different the characters are and how none of them have figured out the right answer yet.
There are many points of view in this that I didn't share, but honestly that made it all the more interesting to read.
I kind of wish it was a full-blown novel because I really want to hear the characters expand on their views and tell me more about their internal journey.
Recommended.
On an unrelated note, this was my sixth bookbox from SF's Green Apple Books Apple-a-month bookclub. Check them out
here.
-
The first bit of this book seems aimed at an extremely specific audience: promiscuous, disaffected, young people in NYC. Like everyone else can read the words but won't get much of the context and references.
Fortunately, that doesn't last long. Soon you are following several very distinctive and interesting characters through their interactions and relationships, hook-ups, misinterpretations, regrets, so much to digest!
The tribulations are a lot like what every group of young people might go through, except that the author continually shows us how much harder it is to navigate your life when you are simultaneously having to deal with your most basic concept of your identity shifting around under you. And when most of society either hates you or just finds you inconvenient.
The one central controversy is very good indeed, and draws us in, making us feel just how small the community is, and thus how important it is that they navigate this without breaking into estranged cliques. When the showdown that interests everyone can be held in a single apartment living room, it is plain that nobody there has the luxury of choosing peer groups.
The story is so interesting that you soon forget it's being told in rhyme, except when an occasional unusual word or odd sentence order draws your attention to it. -
I had the absolute pleasure of hearing Cat read from this! She's so funny and clever.
The book is great, and ridiculous. It deals with a pretty serious and frustrating classic tale that many of us have been involved with, with respect for the complexity of dynamics as well as a lightness and humour. The characters feel recognisable, the dynamics infuriatingly familiar, and there's a shit load of trans in jokes that feel really....fucking pleasurable to read about.
I'm not sold on the sonnet form. I would have loved more of the characters and stories without it being squeezed into a particular shape, but also the narrator seems self aware of how ridiculous this is and it's part of why the book is so funny. Tbh one of my fave parts is the self awareness of the narrator. -
Cat Fitzpatrick's cutting, tender, funny novel in rhyming verse about trans intercommunity relations deftly reveals the ways we are bound to each other despite how we fail, cause harm, or consider ourselves above the drama. Thought-provoking and hilarious even when it caused a wince of painful recognition, The Call-Out is a love letter to the messiness of community and how we still need it, despite its mess. I appreciate most of all the formal and creative risks taken in the capable hands of this wonderful poet.
-
Oh, I did not expect this. So smart. It's not peppered with theory but drenched in it, but the bodily and the interpersonal are not lost. To the contrary, what transpires between these trans women acquires even more heft given the theoretical concerns. And to adopt such a form in this context - brilliant.
-
Tore through this queer riff on Eugene Onegin. So much fun.
-
I admire the work that went into the structure of this novel it's a great style experiement, but it really wasn't my vibe.
-
Generally, yeah! The rhyme scheme seemed purposely kind of odd and it often doesn't scan, but you know what, it's still a fun idea and an interesting accomplishment. I should quote some of my favorite bits---the stanza about Philly Trans Health makes the cut of course---when I have it on hand.
-
I was thrilled to learn, some months ago, of The Call-Out's publication. I had the privilege of reading it first in serialized form, on an email list, as it was being drafted over the course of 2018 to 2019. While it was fascinating to interact with the writer and watch the artistic process and narrative unfold, it is only more satisfying to re-read it and experience it as a complete work of literature.
It's hard to know which aspect of The Call-Out to gush about first. Of course, there is my general unceasing glee at trans lit being a thing at all. Almost a decade since first reading Plett's A Safe Girl to Love, I still haven't quite gotten used to the fact that we get to have stories written by us, about us, and for us, with an inimitable specificity. The conference, with its readings and picnics! The fucked up accountability processes! The stoned gamers, flirtatious weirdos, and special-interest intellectuals! These are trans women like those I know and love and can't stand.
Not only is it authentic, it's also genuinely very good. The Call-Out has all the elements of a great tragedy. There's an ensemble of vivid characters, each with their fatal flaw, and an arc toward an inevitable fall (mirrored by the arc of the year). The "omniscient" narrator delivers us the dramatic irony via the conceit of an internet call-out post, within which the central call-out (or call-outs) of the narrative are nested. (Hypocrisy and cynicism in the pursuit of justice within an unjust world seem to me to be major themes.)
Then there's the poetic form, which one might expect to feel dated. My previous experiences reading narratives in verse have mostly been in English textbooks, and were mostly written by Poe or some such 19th century cis straight white man of the canon; perfectly enjoyable pieces, but far removed from contemporary life, and in their narrowness of identity, perfectly inadequate to representing the full breadth of human experiences. So it is additionally gratifying that Cat Fitzpatrick lays claim to this format for telling her story about messy trans women, and our messy apartments, messy non-monogamous relationships, messy internet feuds, messy theory, messy praxis – as if to say that we, in all our messiness, are also worthy subjects of "high art."
But apart from its perhaps incidental political achievements, the book is, simply put, delightful to read. At many points, even on the second read, I laughed out loud, or felt compelled to turn to my partner to read them a particularly clever passage aloud. (Me: "the contents of the local thrift store / have been requisitioned, then dumped on the floor." Them: "I think I know that apartment.)
I think this is what impresses me most about this ambitious novel: that it all actually works. The subjects, the rhyme scheme, the satire, the tragedy, the humor – all have been ingeniously woven together, so that my strongest reaction is one of awe. I eagerly await whatever Cat Fitzpatrick does next, but in the meantime, I will be pestering all of my friends and loved ones to read The Call-Out. -
This was so short and fun that I suggest it.
I thought the rhyming was quite interesting because in some stanzas, Fitzpatrick was cramming complex trans theory and classic references into a simple rhyme pattern. In other stanzas, heightened emotion was reduced to a singular rhyming word. I think this restriction kept this read fun and fresh; are you gonna get life or death drama in a couplet or a silly, watered-down rhyme scheme? Despite being fun, this restriction that called for severely heightened or “unheightened” retellings felt like a metaphor for the trans experience; you are in this box and you must tell your story in this pre-given frame and people may or may not like/ understand it.
I loved seeing my fellow non-cis NYC-er’s being centered, especially from an AMAB perspective. I loved the content in this because it showed that we are not a monolith. We’re a tiny community but everyone disagrees even if everyone knows each other. There’s dichotomy in our lives. And just when you think you’ve received the opinionated and only message of the narrator, you get an opposing view.
Definitely suggest! Taking 1 star away for how often I was confused by who was speaking (maybe user error) and 1 star away for general pizzazz. I didn’t put this book down feeling “wow”. But please read it regardless, it’ll take no time and is a nice break of pace. -
I'm always afraid that 'a novel in verse' will feel gimmicky but it certainly didn't in this case. While there were a few lines that felt shoehorned into the form, most of it flowed really well and there were quite a few lines that were utterly delightful because of their rhyme and rhythm. I will say that a physical copy probably would have been better than an electronic copy for formatting purposes. There were a few times when I wasn't exactly sure which character was speaking but I think proper formatting from a physical copy would have helped. All in all, it was impressive how much complex dialogue the author was able to capture in verse.
It was special to have the entire cast of characters be trans women. Instead of a cast with a single trans character whose entire personality is just being trans, the women in this group got to show off how wide the range of personalities and views can be even in a relatively insular community. I'm normally not a big fan of drama, especially from the collapse of relationships, but the women were all fully realized in their flaws and strengths so I found it compelling rather than annoying. -
""Um. I have a Nintendo Switch.
I just got Smash Bros." -- "Oh my god, you bitch
invite me over. I will totally whip you
If I play as Samus."
Just an amazing delight. While covering a lot of how it is to exist as a trans woman socially and intracommunal dynamics, its fictionalized enough to be enjoyable. While not taking itself too terribly seriously, it still engages with a lot of different ideas, and how people use certain scripts to justify actions, within a short number of pages. Funny, tightly written, and Cat herself is an absolute joy to have talk.
Even with books like
Detransition, Baby, there's a lot of tendency to still show trans suffering, albeit in a more complex way than cis people show it. While about drama, call-outs, and dissatisfaction, I weirdly have to say this still felt like a breath of fresh air, maybe due to its format or use of characters that are a mix of archetype and reality.
The only reason this was four stars was because it still felt exhausting to read about this constant discourse a bit, though the structure and playfulness of the rhyme certainly mitigates that. Also, I'm waaay too generous with 5-star reviews. -
The people in this novel-in-verse live lives very different from mine. That's fine. But it was hard for me to relate to. I'm not part of the young and very-online culture that they are in. The characters frequently refer to academic theory (Judith Butler, Andrea Dworkin, etc.) which I have little interest in. I didn't even know what the title "call-out" meant.
I'm no great fan of poetry either. And yet, I enjoyed much of this. The words flow easily and after I while I was able to read it fluidly, almost as prose. (And after finishing, the prose I read seemed sorely lacking rhymes and rhythm!)
Still, my favorite novel-in-verse (of the mere handful I've read) remains
Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish. I don't need to know about "Theory" to understand that one. -
I was hesitant about a novel in verse, especially rhyming verse. But it blew my mind-- Fitzpatrick told a real, raw, funny, and heartbreaking story, with multiple flushed out characters (that I actually feel like I got to know) over an entire year in rhyme. I did not expect it to be so effective and engaging. Of course, there were limitations from the verse format and there was a lot I wanted more of and was left wondering about. But honestly on of the best reasons to not give five stars is because I was left wanting more.
-
I finished this a few days ago, and it’s been one of those books that has sat in my brain ever since.
I’m a trans woman. A recently hatched egg. And while I don’t live in NYC now, I did, and have spent a lot of time there in general. A lot of time thinking about the idea of what it means to be “queer in New York”.
Cat Fitzpatrick does a phenomenal job of pulling on her own experiences, while simultaneously presenting issues within the trans community without pretending to know the answers to them. The resulting story is one that feels very real and true, without giving up its charm. This is one of my favorite novels I’ve read in quite a while.
It’s a quick read, but not an easy one. If you’ve enjoyed this at all, I highly recommend you listen to Fitzpatrick’s appearance on the Gender Reveal podcast. That’s how I found the book, and I’m so glad I did. -
I read this one in chunks. Novels in verse are not my thing and I knew my brain would turn to mush if I attempted to plow through this one like a typical novel. I read 1-2 chapters a sitting and found this one to be such a gem.
While I don’t typically love reading in verse, I can recognize that it was very well done here. The cohesion and flow of the narrative, the fluidity of the dialogue, we’re all very impressive to me. I won’t say it’s converted me but I did thoroughly enjoy this one and definitely recommend readers give it a try. -
A lot of fun, The Call Out follows a bunch of trans women living in Brooklyn, sleeping around and causing drama. It’s messy, it’s funny, and in Fitzpatrick’s capable hands, it’s well told and well told in rhyme. I liked it a lot. It’s a trans Onigen; maybe someday we’ll get a trans Byronic Don Juan.
-
Fitzpatrick faithfully captures the way Twitter discourse becomes reality in the world of trans dykes in Brooklyn. What I like most about this novel is not the playful verse, nor even her wit, but her ability to see the good in her characters while they are ripped apart for their flaws.
-
A serious romp, a kind of reverse fanfic, and one of the most thoughtful takings account of the promise and disappointments of queer community and its rituals. I’ve read it alone and now want to read it aloud to friends.
-
refreshing in form, forced in reality. this book of verse is funny and fun to read, but the rhyme scheme had too strong a hold on the narrative and in some cases, felt infantilizing. good representation, though
-
between this and detransition baby i’m starting to think i will never understand the inscrutable new yawker. frankly i was not a fan of the rhyming, but credit where credit’s due for doing something I haven’t seen before
-
Honestly, this book is perfect
-
oof. she got us good.
-
what a load of tosh this was
-
Ah! So much fun! Agonising sometimes! Every character is right and wrong constantly. Leaves you with no answers. Cool book.
-
Transexual women fucking up. So awesome. Loved it!
