Book Review: So Many Stars: An Oral History of Trans, Nonbinary, Gen…
From the moment I heard about So Many Stars: An Oral History of Trans, Nonbinary, Gen… by Caro De Robertis, I was intrigued. As someone who revels in the rich tapestry of oral history, I was excited to dive into a work that promised to gather countless voices exploring queerness and identity. De Robertis has proven her talent in previous works, and I was eager to see how she would navigate this complex, vibrant landscape. Unfortunately, while I admired her ambition, the execution left me longing for a more cohesive story.
Oral history is an art form that requires incredible finesse and skill. Masters like Garrett Graff and Studs Terkel have shown us how deeply personal experiences can be woven together to reveal universal truths. Ideally, these narratives resonate long after the last page is turned. So Many Stars, though undeniably full of beautiful sentiments, felt like it was scattered across the vast expanse of the universe, leaving me floating among fragments rather than anchoring me into a compelling narrative.
One of the book’s most beautiful aspects is De Robertis’s lyrical writing style. Her prose dances with a kind of musicality that is undeniably enchanting. There are moments of pure beauty that celebrate the fluidity of identity and the complexities of human experience. However, the poetic nature often overshadowed the urgency of the themes she grappled with. While I found the reflections on queerness promising, their execution felt more like wisps of thought than fully-formed explorations. Each time a voice edged toward a significant insight, we’d pivot to another fragment, leaving me yearning for a bit more depth and grounding.
The consistency of tone also began to blur my engagement with the text. Everything, though lovely, started to feel somewhat homogenous after a while. I craved variation—something to break the ethereal quality and introduce tension or humor. Instead, it felt as if I was adrift within a cloud of incense, praised for its beauty but lacking a definitive exit or clarity.
What resonates for some readers may fall flat for others. While De Robertis’s work feels like it may beautifully serve those who appreciate meditative, stream-of-consciousness poetry or philosophical journaling, for me, it lacked the gravitational pull that would keep me engaged as a reader. I could imagine picking it up for a contemplative moment, savoring a single page, but as a coherent narrative, it didn’t seem to fulfill my expectations.
At the end of my reading journey, I found myself admiring De Robertis’s bravery and voice, feeling as though I had hovered at the periphery of an experience meant to be deeply felt. Despite some fleeting moments of connection through glimmers of thought, the stars she illuminated often felt too distant to grasp.
In conclusion, So Many Stars may resonate with those drawn to poetic forms and philosophical reflections. For others seeking a more grounded narrative or clearer thematic arcs, it might leave you a little lost in the vastness. While I wished for more gravity, I still found beauty in the experience of reading De Robertis’s work. The stars are there, waiting to be touched — perhaps you just need to bring the right lens to truly appreciate their spark.
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