Nimrods: A Fake-Punk Self-Hurt Anti-Memoir

In this raw mix of poetry and prose, Guillermo (All Flowers Bloom) chronicles his early life and experiences in academia as a bisexual, mixed-race man. The prevailing tone is dark: Guillermo discusses enduring casual racism from his own family (“It’s the white cousin asking you at your own grandmother’s funeral how you learned to speak English”), navigating his father’s alcoholism and suicidal depression (“binge; clock in; binge; clock out; binge; wife leaves; binge; she’s probably out with some guy; binge”), and facing sometimes violent pushback from strangers and confidants about his sexuality. He presents these musings in an uncompromising, confrontational style, with handwritten chapter titles and crude collage art that can give the proceedings the feel of a zine or a chapbook. But between the broken lines and flashes of adolescent humor is an affecting, unmistakable narrative: one in which Guillermo catalogs his difficulties, considers their effects (“Dear counselors and therapeutics /In answer to your question, “Are you still having suicidal thoughts?” /Noooo.....? Heh... why... of course... not... /Not really, but I’ve been tugging on its roots”), and learns to find hope anyway. Though not for the faint of heart, this chaotic, fascinating self-portrait lingers. (Sept.)