Author: Patti Kotrady

“Queerness is essentially about the rejection of here and now and an insistence on potentiality or concrete possibility for another world” (Munoz, 1).

Throughout the novel, Cereus Blooms at Night, characters such as Otoh and Tyler seem to share a sense of queerness with Mala Ramchandin. For example, while discussing his complicated relationship with Mala, Otoh states, “I felt as though she and I had things in common. She had secrets and I had secrets. Somehow I wanted to go there and take all my clothes off and say, ‘Look! See? See all this? I am different!'” (Mootoo, 124). In openly saying that he wanted Mala to see his androgynous body, Otoh suggests that Mala understands his unconventional, or queer, means of existence. At first, this comparison seemed somewhat unprecedented, especially with a perspective of queerness only in relation to gender and sexuality. Otoh and Tyler exemplify the complexities of gender and sexuality through their means of gender performance, and, although Mala has lived a life of anguish, she does not seem to exhibit characteristics of queerness in gender or sexuality.

Yet, upon further reading, I can now see how Mala may fit into queer discourse. As Munoz’s notion of queerness suggests, transgressions of conceptions of “here and now” can constitute queerness. Throughout the later years of her life, Mala rejects the “here and now” of the present world and often chooses to live in the past to create a possibility for another reality in which she can protect Pohpoh, punish her father, and pursue a relationship with Ambrose.

“At first I felt horribly silly, like a man who had put on women’s clothing for sheer sport and had forgotten to remove the outfit after the allotted period of fun. I felt flat-footed and clumsy. Not a man and not ever able to be a woman, suspended nameless in the limbo state between existence and nonexistence” (Mootoo 77).

At this point in the novel, Cereus Blooms at Night, Tyler tries on a nurse’s dress that Mala stole for him. Unable to explicitly articulate their gender identity, Tyler reflects on how wearing the dress makes them feel. In describing these feelings, Tyler states that they feel “silly,” “flat-footed,” “clumsy” and “suspended” while wearing the dress, suggesting a sense of discomfort and uneasiness. Combined with the phrase, “not a man and not ever able to be a woman,” it becomes apparent that the perceived femininity of the dress makes Tyler feel as though their gender does not properly align with the gender binary of man/woman. According to the societal “rules” of gender, Tyler’s thin, flat-chested body seems to not fill the dress in the “proper” ways. Due to this discordance between biological anatomy and gender perception, Tyler feels that they cannot wear the dress in accordance with prescribed concepts of feminine womanhood.

In the introduction to The Queer Art o Failure, Judith Halberstam outlines how failure can be interpreted as a positive aspect of queer life as it “allows us to escape the punishing norms that discipline behavior and manage human development…” (3). Within the passage of Cereus Blooms at Night, Tyler’s language of discomfort and nonexistence suggest that they have “failed” at navigating the “rules” of gender, and particularly femininity. Interestingly, Halberstam notes that “Where feminine success is always measured by male standards, and gender failure often means being relieve of the pressure to measure up to patriarchal ideals, not succeeding at womanhood can offer unexpected pleasures” (4). Although this idea may resonate with cisgender women, it does not seem to align with Tyler’s experiences. When Tyler fails at measuring up to feminine success, they do not feel pleasure or relief. Through Tyler’s experiences, it is evident that although gender failure may be liberating alternative for some, transgender or nonbinary people often have to live gender failure, creating a feeling of discomfort and isolation in a society that delegitimizes their existence.

“He’d used the word screwball, but I knew what he really meant. He meant I should have named my guitar Doug or Brian, or better yet, taken up the flute. He meant that if we’re defined by our desires, I was in a lifetime of trouble” (Sedaris 29).

At this point in David Sedaris’s book, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Sedaris recalls his experiences taking guitar lessons with a “midget” named Mister Mancini. After seeing people ostracizing and mocking Mister Mancini in a restaurant, Sedaris decides to come clean about his distaste for guitar and secret passion for singing. After singing the Oscar Mayer commercial in a Billie Holiday voice, Mister Mancini calls him a “screwball,” telling him, “I don’t swing that way.”

In this passage, Sedaris repeats the words “he meant” as he reflects on Mister Mancini’s reaction. This repetition connotes the significance of the implications of Mancini’s use of the word screwball to describe Sedaris. “He meant” suggests that when Mister Mancini calls him a “screwball,” he wants to say something else. By stating, “He meant I should have named my guitar Doug or Brian, or better yet, taken up the flute,” Sedaris hints at what exactly Mancini really “meant.” Since Mancini wants Sedaris to “play his guitar like a woman,” naming his guitar stereotypically masculine names, such as Doug or Brian, implies that he is sexually attracted to men. Additionally, mentioning that he should have “taken up flute” references the tendency for people to associate “feminine” things, such as the flute, to gay men. This shows that he is perceived as an effeminate gay boy, leading the reading to think that Mister Mancini means to say faggot or gay instead of screwball.

In “Queer and Now,” Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick emphasizes that the word queer can often “deepen and shift” with meaning as it intersects with different identities such as language, skin, migration, and state. Although Sedaris may have not been specifically thinking about queerness when he had this experience with Mancini, it can be applied to the situation. When he sees that Mancini is ridiculed because of his identity as a “midget,” Sedaris relates Mancini’s place as an outsider to his own experiences being marginalized due to his perceived sexuality. Although Sedaris may have felt a shared identity of “outsider” or “queer” with Mancini, his homophobic response to Sedaris’s singing shows that notions of queerness is not universal. Sedgwick states that “anyone’s use of ‘queer’ about themselves means differently from their use of it about someone else” (9). This passage therefore sheds light on Kedgwick’s ideas about the importance of first person in queer identities.

“It’s as if Louise never existed, like a character in a book. Did I invent her?” (189)

At this point in the novel, the narrator has returned from their trip to London in search for Louise. Upon returning to their home, the narrator has a conversation with Gail in which they state the above passage during an explanation of their failed journey.  Although the narrator searches for Louise to the best of their ability, they do not find her. As a result, they express that “it’s as if Louise never existed.” This could suggest that the narrator’s feelings of loss have caused them to forget Louise. Yet, due to the vast amount of time the narrator spends thinking about Louise, this does not seem likely. Instead, I propose that Louise has never actually existed in the “real world.”

The use of the word “like” in this passage establishes a simile in which the narrator compares Louise to a character in a book. When one reads a book, especially a novel with strong character development, he/she may feel connected to a character on a personal level. A reader may even develop strong romantic feelings for a character, but this all exists within the reader’s imagination and outside of the “real world.” Similarly, if Louise is like “a character in a book,” the narrator may develop strong emotions towards her, but not actually be able to interact with her in the “real world.” This does not make the narrator’s love illegitimate. Instead, it shows how love can exist in different, sometimes fictional, contexts.

The narrator then asks, “Did I invent her?” This may explain Louise’s lack of autonomy as a character. Throughout the novel, the narrator seems to talk about Louise as though she is an all-knowing, active force in the narrator’s life and, on page 91, the narrator even states that he/she thought of Louise “beyond common sense.” Yet, Louise has practically no voice in the novel, and even when she does, the narrator interprets her words. The narrator may have therefore “invented” Louise, “like a character in a book.” To the reader, Louise is indeed a “character in a book.” Through an analysis of this passage, the narrator’s awareness of her character becomes evident as well.