I started reading Call Me By Your Name about a week ago. So when we started Autobiography of Red, I could not help but notice the resemblance. We have two main characters that long for this figure who pulls them in and pushes them away at the same time.
Similar to how Elio finds his life changed by Oliver as soon as they meet, something similar happens to Geryon. “Then he met Herakles and the kingdoms of his life all shifted down a few notches.” (39).
I find the language of this paragraph interesting, “kingdoms” gives this sense of importance, but how could someone he just met cause a change in what he found important. As if he knew that Herakles would be a prominent figure in his life.
A similar thing happens with Elio in the beginning pages, he says “It is the first thing I remember about him, and I can remember it still today.” That feeling of someone becoming a prominent figure in his life.
I put these two quotes together in my mind because it is a very personal feeling. One that I hope I do not come to regret sharing. Others will find it silly that upon meeting someone you know that for better or for worse they will be a prominent figure.
When I met my partner, I realized very quickly that I had no intention on being friends. I realized, perhaps seconds later, that they were now on the list of people that I found most important. And to this day, I stand by the fact that if (knock on wood) our relationship takes a turn for the worst, I will never forget them.
I don’t yet know how this ends for Geryon, or Elio, but it is a tale all to familiar to the LGBTQIA+ community. Being held to the Earth by one person and them leaving. It is a theme seen in the best queer novels, and to close this out, perhaps the reason they are the best is because of this theme the queer community knows all too well.
I really appreciate how you made the connection between Call Me By Your Name and Autobiography of Red. I hadn’t thought about how similar Elio and Geryon’s experiences are, but you’re absolutely right. That immediate, almost gravitational pull toward someone, and the way it shifts your whole world, is such a powerful moment in both stories. I also admire how you connected this to your own life, I feel very similarly. I think you’re spot on that this feeling resonates deeply within the queer community, especially because of the intensity and vulnerability that often come with those early relationships. There’s this blend of wonder and fear that feels so true to meeting someone you have no idea will change you life forever.
I really appreciated reading your triangulation of Autobiography of Red, Call Me By Your Name, and your own lived experiences. Particularly due to Autobiography of Red’s focus on the personal narrative, its parallels to lived queer experiences fascinate me. Carson has never explicitly identified herself as queer—which is not itself a definitive claim to heterosexuality or cisgender identity—but given this fact, her ability to connect to real and similar fictional queer narratives is astounding. What exactly about Autobiography of Red do you think makes it so relatable as a queer young adult?
Hey, I really appreciated your post—it hit on something I’ve been thinking about too while reading Autobiography of Red. That moment when Geryon meets Herakles and everything “shifts” really stuck with me. It’s like his whole inner world reorients itself, even though they’ve barely spoken. And I agree—“kingdoms” is such a powerful word. It gives this almost mythic weight to the experience of falling for someone, which is fitting considering the epic undertones of Carson’s writing.
I love the connection you made to Call Me By Your Name, especially how Elio immediately recognizes that Oliver is going to matter, deeply. It’s not about time or logic—it’s that instant, overwhelming gravity someone can have over your life. The quote you chose from Elio really gets at that permanence, even before anything has really begun. It reminds me that sometimes you don’t fall in love gradually—you just know, even if it makes no sense at all.
Also, thank you for sharing that personal piece about your partner. It’s so moving and honest. I think your reflection actually captures what’s so resonant about these stories for the queer community—this intense, often sudden emotional attachment, and the fear of loss that can come with it. There’s so much vulnerability in queer longing, especially when it feels like everything is riding on a connection that may or may not last.
I’m curious to see where both stories go too—and whether that early “knowing” is a gift or a kind of curse. Either way, I think you’re totally right that it’s part of what makes these novels unforgettable.