Chlorine by Jade Song
Chlorine by Jade Song
The rundown: Ren is a swimmer, with the strong muscles and cracked skin that indicate her devotion to the pool. But she is increasingly uninterested in the human concerns of college, a good future. She dreams of chlorine and later, of salt water. Of turning into the mermaid she’s always longed to become. And she’ll do anything to transform her body and make a life where she can be free.
The review: From the moment I first learned about this book I wanted to read it, and it did not let me down. One thing that struck me while reading Chlorine and that, upon reflection, I appreciate even more is that Song presents Ren’s anger and longing and pain so candidly; they are right there on the page for the reader to sit with. Ren is both a teenage girl and not-a-girl stuck in a girl body; I couldn’t help but think about the horrors that are forced upon people in these groups by the expectations, the disdain, the hatred of the society we live in. And so to see Ren’s anger and pain depicted so bluntly seems like a refusal to hide or minimize those feelings, which feels quite revelatory to me.
I imagine some readers will interpret this book (specifically Ren) primarily through the lens of girlhood or a young athlete. I, however, see this as a book about genderqueerness first and foremost. I know that much queer horror, and indeed queer body horror, sees monstrosity as the result of violence visited upon the queer person. I do not see that here. If anything, I would say that any feelings of monstrosity come from Ren fighting against the infractions of her own body and being unable to shed her unwanted girl body. Instead, Ren longs, fiercely, to inhabit the body that she knows is her *true* body, the monstrous one. In Chlorine, monstrosity is desired. Her beautiful, strong mermaid body is freedom, is relief, is actualization of who she has always known herself to be. And oh, the frustration! the disappointment! of knowing who you truly are and not being understood even by those closest to you. How could you have said you loved me and not seen that I was always meant to have a beautiful tail? That these muscles that you so admired were only the first step in my transformation? How could you see this beautiful tail and still not understand?
Other reviews that I’ve read focus on other themes, which is one of the things I most appreciate about this book. It’s a testament to Song’s writing that so many people have identified so many different themes - queerness, intergenerational trauma, abuse, competition swimming, etc. - that resonate with them in what is, at first glance, a fairly straightforward book.
Goes well with: Check out Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang for more on young Asian American women becoming alienated from their own bodies and body horror. If you enjoyed Ren’s obsession with mermaid mythology, The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw, with its haunting, thought-provoking use of body horror, is a great next read.