2017, Penguin Random House
Paul has the superpower I wanted when I was a kid: shape-shifting. And Paul uses it the way I would have: gender bending to fully experience all genders.
Paul Polydoris (richly dowered, in ancient Greek) is callow, queer, hedonistic, and narcissistic. Like Bowie or Frank-N-Furter before them (my choice of pronoun), they're hot AF. Lawlor describes them as a flaneur, and, yes, I had to look that word up. Paul's life revolves around drinking, anonymous sex, and insubstantial jobs that finance, but don't interfere with, those pursuits.
We first meet Paul as they morph into Polly for a night out with dyke friend Jane. Whether Paul or Polly, they're adept manipulators of lovers. I knew I was invested in this book early on in a scene where Paul seduces frat boy Dallas. Dim and stoned, with but one thought in his head, Dallas sits listening to Paul rattle off a dazzlingly thorough dissertation on how song covers can queer the lyrics. Paul is encyclopedic, but superficial and (duh) changeable.
Paul then embarks on an inadvertent odyssey to America's queer hubs: the Michigan Womyn's Festival, P-Town, San Francisco. Each stop deepens not so much our understanding as our appreciation for why they are as they are. Which gender presentation is truer to the core of their being? Are they capable of real feelings? Are they running from something?
The pull quotes for this novel are one word blurbs: tight, hot, deep, and smut. Funny and eye-catching on the bookstore display. They're not wrong. 43.78% of this book is erotica, and well-written at that. See the Mmmm cited above. But it's also an insightful examination of gender and sexuality. And I enjoyed it thoroughly.
Last thought: This book leans heavily on music references. I took the liberty of compiling them into a Spotify playlist, which is in heavy rotation right now. Love it!
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