This brilliant new essay collection on grief, colonial violence, joy, love and queerness from the youngest ever winner of the Griffin Prize touches upon his personal history and demonstrates the power of words to both devastate and console us. Original. - (Baker & Taylor)

Lambda Literary Award, Finalist / "A Best Book of 2020" —Kirkus Reviews, Book Riot, CBC, Globe and Mail, Largehearted Boy.

"Stunning... Happiness, this beautiful book says, is the ultimate act of resistance." —Michelle Hart, O, The Oprah Magazine
The youngest ever winner of the Griffin Prize mines his personal history in a brilliant new essay collection seeking to reconcile the world he was born into with the world that could be.

For readers of Ocean Vuong and Maggie Nelson and fans of Heart Berries by Terese Marie Mailhot, A History of My Brief Body is a brave, raw, and fiercely intelligent collection of essays and vignettes on grief, colonial violence, joy, love, and queerness.

Billy-Ray Belcourt’s debut memoir opens with a tender letter to his kokum and memories of his early life in the hamlet of Joussard, Alberta, and on the Driftpile First Nation. Piece by piece, Billy-Ray’s writings invite us to unpack and explore the big and broken world he inhabits every day, in all its complexity and contradiction: a legacy of colonial violence and the joy that flourishes in spite of it; first loves and first loves lost; sexual exploration and intimacy; the act of writing as a survival instinct and a way to grieve. What emerges is not only a profound meditation on memory, gender, anger, shame, and ecstasy, but also the outline of a way forward. With startling honesty, and in a voice distinctly and assuredly his own, Belcourt situates his life experiences within a constellation of seminal queer texts, among which this book is sure to earn its place. Eye-opening, intensely emotional, and excessively quotable, A History of My Brief Body demonstrates over and over again the power of words to both devastate and console us.

The youngest ever winner of the Griffin Prize mines his personal history in a brilliant new essay collection seeking to reconcile the world he was born into with the world that could be.

For readers of Ocean Vuong and Maggie Nelson and fans of Heart Berries by Terese Marie Mailhot, A History of My Brief Body is a brave, raw, and fiercely intelligent collection of essays and vignettes on grief, colonial violence, joy, love, and queerness.

Billy-Ray Belcourt’s debut memoir opens with a tender letter to his kokum and memories of his early life in the hamlet of Joussard, Alberta, and on the Driftpile First Nation. Piece by piece, Billy-Ray’s writings invite us to unpack and explore the big and broken world he inhabits every day, in all its complexity and contradiction: a legacy of colonial violence and the joy that flourishes in spite of it; first loves and first loves lost; sexual exploration and intimacy; the act of writing as a survival instinct and a way to grieve. What emerges is not only a profound meditation on memory, gender, anger, shame, and ecstasy, but also the outline of a way forward. With startling honesty, and in a voice distinctly and assuredly his own, Belcourt situates his life experiences within a constellation of seminal queer texts, among which this book is sure to earn its place.

Eye-opening, intensely emotional, and excessively quotable, A History of My Brief Body demonstrates over and over again the power of words to both devastate and console us.

Booklist Reviews

Poet and 2016 Rhodes Scholar Belcourt applies his prodigious talents to this book of personal essays. Living in Canada as an Indigenous (NDN) person from the Driftpile Cree Nation, Belcourt focuses on the historical and continued oppression of First Nations peoples by the Canadian government and how this oppression affects not only the political but also the personal. For instance, it arrives in his bedroom in the form of Grindr hookups who only sleep with NDNs, or who bashfully tell him he is their first NDN, as if ticking off a box. While he uses his writing to navigate pain, he also uses it to record joy, a form of resistance: "With joy, we breach the haze of suffering that denies us creativity and literature. Joy is art is an ethics of resistance." Belcourt's writing is poetic and philosophical, and often meanders in lovely and thought-provoking ways, whether he writes of colonialism, his grandmother, or his queer/NDN identity. Clearly a student, too, he includes words of other writers, particularly Ocean Vuong and Maggie Nelson, but his voice is distinctly his own. This timely and intriguing collection would make a great read-alike for Saeed Jones' How We Fight for Our Lives (2019). Copyright 2020 Booklist Reviews.