Both wonderful and an often-heavy read. It is the e-mails of two transsexual artists, one Spanish and the other Portuguese. Their correspondence is raw, erotic, cultured, subversive, out of tone, real and revealing. I personally think the texts should have been more extensively revised and that probably no one needed 620 pages of e-mails full of orthographic mistakes, but their intention was to preserve untouched any wordplays the authors originally made.
Their relationship is complicated. For a good chunk of the book they haven´t yet ever met in person. They know each other through a common friend. They quickly start using this correspondence as some sort of dialogue with themselves. They feel sistered by similar experiences and by the possibility of shameless pure self-expression with one another.
I used to have this ongoing discussion with a then friend of mine who´s none no more. It was a variation of other discussions I had had in the past. My point was, in all of those discussions, that language is a form of communication more than it is a form of expression. I even argued that thoughts didn´t properly exist until put into words. I don’t think I support this view anymore. I´m sure a more cultured individual could quote many language theorists and philosophers that have had similar discussions prolonged in time in the past.
Point being, communication and expression are not the same, and it is indeed seldom that people feel comfortable to freely communicate what they need to express. We tweak and fold and shush and hide and highlight and perform, perform, perform. And though these women perform in every other aspect of their lives, personal and professional, and though I´m sure they still care about form, they seem to have found a conversation in which their thoughts can be shared almost untouched, only slightly beautified. It is a privilege to be let in their precious, intimate conversation.