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The Backwards Hand: A Memoir
Fear. Disgust. Pity. The cripple evokes our basest human emotions—as does the monster.Told in lyric fragments, The Backwards Hand traces Matt Lee’s experience living in the United States for more than thirty years with a rare congenital defect. Weaving in historical research and pop culture references, Lee dissects how the disabled body has been conflated with impurity, worthlessness, and evil. His voice swirls amid those of artists, criminals, activists, and philosophers. With a particular focus on horror films, Lee juxtaposes portrayals of fictitious monsters with the real-life atrocities of the Nazi regime and the American eugenics movement. Through examining his struggles with physical and mental health, Lee confronts his own beliefs about monstrosity and searches for atonement as he awaits the birth of his son.The Backwards Hand interrogates what it means to be a cripple in a predominantly ableist society, deconstructing how perceptions of disability are—and are not—reflected in art and media.
272 pages, Paperback
Published May 15, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
July 10, 2024
“How old were you when you first stumbled across the invisible boundary separating normal from other? Man from monster?”
Lee was born with a rare physical defect: bilateral radioulnar synostosis or for those that haven’t heard of it—like me—a fusing of the bones in the forearm. In this memoir, he explores horror pop culture and their “freaks” and creatures as a way to navigate disability and otherness. What was remarkably fascinating in premise felt, unfortunately, poorly executed.
The writing in this memoir is fragmented which only resulted in an elementary feel for me. The main downfall of Lee’s writing in this memoir is the jump between experiences from his personal life to the comparison to horror pop culture and the history of disability. Any cohesive transition lacks and the aforementioned “comparison” between his life and that of the pop culture that he explores is thin and not fully fleshed out. The onslaught of information provided is done so chaotically and in a brash manner.
The Backwards Hand is an interesting meditation on disability: how society defines it, the expectations that we place on those who are disabled, and the way we treat those who are disabled. And while there is certainly engaging information to be found within these pages, it ultimately fell flat for me and was a real chore to get through.
Thank you Northwestern University Press and NetGalley for the digital copy in exchange for an honest review. Available now!
Lee was born with a rare physical defect: bilateral radioulnar synostosis or for those that haven’t heard of it—like me—a fusing of the bones in the forearm. In this memoir, he explores horror pop culture and their “freaks” and creatures as a way to navigate disability and otherness. What was remarkably fascinating in premise felt, unfortunately, poorly executed.
The writing in this memoir is fragmented which only resulted in an elementary feel for me. The main downfall of Lee’s writing in this memoir is the jump between experiences from his personal life to the comparison to horror pop culture and the history of disability. Any cohesive transition lacks and the aforementioned “comparison” between his life and that of the pop culture that he explores is thin and not fully fleshed out. The onslaught of information provided is done so chaotically and in a brash manner.
The Backwards Hand is an interesting meditation on disability: how society defines it, the expectations that we place on those who are disabled, and the way we treat those who are disabled. And while there is certainly engaging information to be found within these pages, it ultimately fell flat for me and was a real chore to get through.
Thank you Northwestern University Press and NetGalley for the digital copy in exchange for an honest review. Available now!
May 9, 2024
Let me start by saying that I love the cover on this book. It caught my eye. And the book itself kept me engaged all the way through. I will say that the writing style was initially off-putting because of the frequent change from memoir, to disability information, to stories of others who have disabilities and how they handled it. Once I figured out the rhythm, it got a bit easier to follow along. Matt’s journey from birth to adulthood is filed with bullying, self-deprecation, anger, loathing, self-destructive, and ultimately, acceptance. It gives outsiders a glimpse into the struggles of those born with being born as someone who is not considered “normal”, and how that can breed fear and pity in those around them. Matt also provides frightening truths about those who believed in the purity of the human race, and wished to discard and destroy anyone deemed inferior. And as he grappled with his place in the world, his overall bleak view is a gut punch for a society that still isn’t sure how to treat those with disabilities. You won’t find Matt’s journey pleasant-in fact, you may be disgusted with his actions most of the time-but he accepts what he did, who he hurt, and why. His point is you can be the monster they think you are, or you can embody the worth you possess, if you can believe yourself to be worthy.
Thank you NetGalley and Curbstone Books for my ARC. My opinion is my own.
Thank you NetGalley and Curbstone Books for my ARC. My opinion is my own.
May 9, 2024
"The Backwards Hand" isn't just a straightforward memoir— it plunges into the depths of disability, identity, mental health, and societal perceptions with unapologetic rawness. This book is a genuine and uncomfortable examination about how we view disabilities and those who live with them through equal parts memoir, historic reference, and pop culture. Through his life, relationships, studies, and eventually introduction of his son, Lee unveils to readers the trauma too often faced in disabled spaces further unearthing the potential of the pain one may endure, or inflict, on themselves and others. While this read packs a punch, Lee's writing style remains heavily fragmented— disfigured in its own way. This may not be for everyone at first, intentionally, but it presents an unfiltered portrayal of one's lived experiences and sparks needed conversations.
The cover of the book caught my eye immediately when first choosing to read this. It perfectly set the tone for what turned out to be an enlightening and authentic read as well as expounding on the monstrous theme. Not only those who perform monstrous acts, but how we become monsters ourselves.
One of the most impactful aspects of the memoir is Lee's exploration of disability through the lens of horror films and historical contexts. I found it fascinating to discover so many disabled historical figures and their need to hide their injuries or disabilities as well as their treatment of, and by others. In film & art Lee skillfully, and playfully, examines how disabled individuals are used to portray the darkest aspects of human nature or less than human, prompting us to question ingrained stereotypes and biases. Why are they the monsters in your movies? The thing that keeps you up at night? What is it you really fear….
What stood out to me most was Lee's dedication to highlighting the erasure of disabled individuals throughout history, including chilling references to programs like the T4 program used by the Nazis. He also briefly touches on the intersectionality of disability with factors like race, socioeconomic status, and access to resources, underscoring the multifaceted challenges faced by the disabled community and the families that care for them.
While I appreciated the historical research and Lee's inward approach, I found myself torn in other aspects while reading. Some parts of the book—particularly repetitive discussions around sex and relationships—felt somewhat redundant. Lee never denies his treatment of those around him, forcing the reader to expand our perspective on how we view him as a disabled man. He wasn’t the best guy, but he was a son, a brother, and now he’s a husband and a father. He is a man, he is human. He can cheat, he can lie, he can sleep around. People change, we shapeshift. We all have that superpower I guess. Did his disability stop him from dating? Did you assign him pity too early? I found this to be an interesting lesson in judging a book by its cover. I left seeing Lee’s interactions with women as an introspective exploration of his inner monstrous perception and inability to see himself as someone worthy of being loved. Although, through alternative lenses one could see his use of women, relationships, and sex to have control—something he often in his life, and the lives of many disabled people, don’t have, fight for, or is taken from them within their disability identity.
Settling up, "The Backwards Hand" is a compelling and thought-provoking memoir that invites readers to reconsider their perceptions of disability and reflect on broader societal issues. It's a book that will leave a lasting impact, urging us to break down the question whether we are born monsters or if society's gaze shapes us into what we fear the most.
Huge Thanks to NetGalley, Matt Lee, and Northwestern University Press for access to this ARC!
The cover of the book caught my eye immediately when first choosing to read this. It perfectly set the tone for what turned out to be an enlightening and authentic read as well as expounding on the monstrous theme. Not only those who perform monstrous acts, but how we become monsters ourselves.
One of the most impactful aspects of the memoir is Lee's exploration of disability through the lens of horror films and historical contexts. I found it fascinating to discover so many disabled historical figures and their need to hide their injuries or disabilities as well as their treatment of, and by others. In film & art Lee skillfully, and playfully, examines how disabled individuals are used to portray the darkest aspects of human nature or less than human, prompting us to question ingrained stereotypes and biases. Why are they the monsters in your movies? The thing that keeps you up at night? What is it you really fear….
What stood out to me most was Lee's dedication to highlighting the erasure of disabled individuals throughout history, including chilling references to programs like the T4 program used by the Nazis. He also briefly touches on the intersectionality of disability with factors like race, socioeconomic status, and access to resources, underscoring the multifaceted challenges faced by the disabled community and the families that care for them.
While I appreciated the historical research and Lee's inward approach, I found myself torn in other aspects while reading. Some parts of the book—particularly repetitive discussions around sex and relationships—felt somewhat redundant. Lee never denies his treatment of those around him, forcing the reader to expand our perspective on how we view him as a disabled man. He wasn’t the best guy, but he was a son, a brother, and now he’s a husband and a father. He is a man, he is human. He can cheat, he can lie, he can sleep around. People change, we shapeshift. We all have that superpower I guess. Did his disability stop him from dating? Did you assign him pity too early? I found this to be an interesting lesson in judging a book by its cover. I left seeing Lee’s interactions with women as an introspective exploration of his inner monstrous perception and inability to see himself as someone worthy of being loved. Although, through alternative lenses one could see his use of women, relationships, and sex to have control—something he often in his life, and the lives of many disabled people, don’t have, fight for, or is taken from them within their disability identity.
Settling up, "The Backwards Hand" is a compelling and thought-provoking memoir that invites readers to reconsider their perceptions of disability and reflect on broader societal issues. It's a book that will leave a lasting impact, urging us to break down the question whether we are born monsters or if society's gaze shapes us into what we fear the most.
Huge Thanks to NetGalley, Matt Lee, and Northwestern University Press for access to this ARC!
April 13, 2024
It's like if the 4th step was also an annotated film bibliography.
The Backwards Hand is the author's memoir, running from his birth to the birth of his child. Its story focuses on his prodigal status and general caddish behaviors, maybe from untreated mental illness, but part of the author's conclusion here is that there is not a connection between his behavior and any condition (he has congenital radioulnar synotosis: the eponymous backwards hand).
In general, the book follows the spiritual autobiography, the sinners life then redeemed, though the specific road to Damascus moment is unclear, either encountering other disabled individuals in a tutoring job or working with a great professor in grad school. A lot of the book is dedicated to how many women the author fucked and how he abused them, but I suppose the point there is to challenge views on the disabled. As the book also tells us, the disabled are not allowed to be sexy.
See, the memoir is only about a fourth of the book. The other threads are about the history of disability and of disabled persons, a series of exegesis on art with disabled characters, and a set of commentary on any of the above. At best this gets used to set up meta-commentary on what ideas are grouped how. At worst I imagined them as a VH1-style pop-up, strategically occluding the drug use and soft-core nudity.
The book is at its best when the author is willing to be wholly contradictory in his positions, and unapologetically so. Answers are not clear and things are not easy. And there are moments of real sentiment. But getting to that requires getting through so much artifice that it does not feel like it is worth it. However, this also one of those books where I feel like it is promising for the author's future work, even if it is weak in and of itself. In particular, some of the notes on film felt like there was some growing idea not quite manifest. I remain on the hunt for a book that captures the feeling of the monstrous.
My thanks to the author, Matt Lee, for writing the book and to the publisher, Northwestern University Press, for making the ARC available to me.
The Backwards Hand is the author's memoir, running from his birth to the birth of his child. Its story focuses on his prodigal status and general caddish behaviors, maybe from untreated mental illness, but part of the author's conclusion here is that there is not a connection between his behavior and any condition (he has congenital radioulnar synotosis: the eponymous backwards hand).
In general, the book follows the spiritual autobiography, the sinners life then redeemed, though the specific road to Damascus moment is unclear, either encountering other disabled individuals in a tutoring job or working with a great professor in grad school. A lot of the book is dedicated to how many women the author fucked and how he abused them, but I suppose the point there is to challenge views on the disabled. As the book also tells us, the disabled are not allowed to be sexy.
See, the memoir is only about a fourth of the book. The other threads are about the history of disability and of disabled persons, a series of exegesis on art with disabled characters, and a set of commentary on any of the above. At best this gets used to set up meta-commentary on what ideas are grouped how. At worst I imagined them as a VH1-style pop-up, strategically occluding the drug use and soft-core nudity.
The book is at its best when the author is willing to be wholly contradictory in his positions, and unapologetically so. Answers are not clear and things are not easy. And there are moments of real sentiment. But getting to that requires getting through so much artifice that it does not feel like it is worth it. However, this also one of those books where I feel like it is promising for the author's future work, even if it is weak in and of itself. In particular, some of the notes on film felt like there was some growing idea not quite manifest. I remain on the hunt for a book that captures the feeling of the monstrous.
My thanks to the author, Matt Lee, for writing the book and to the publisher, Northwestern University Press, for making the ARC available to me.
May 25, 2024
3.5 stars rounded down
Matt Lee’s memoir takes an interesting approach to being born and living with a disability by discussing the ways in which disability and monstrosity have been linked throughout history, culture, and media. I really enjoyed his insightful reflections and thought the references were well researched and fit his topics well.
I was not a huge fan of the format of this memoir. Each paragraph changes topics which leaves stories/asides spread out across the entire memoir. I found myself forgetting what had happened by the time we came back to a topic and overall wish the historical and cultural vignettes had been collected and told together.
I was also bothered by the way women in the author’s life were spoken about at the beginning of the book, however I see what the author was trying to accomplish and by the last chapter I was able to understand and see the personal reflections and growth made.
Overall this was an interesting memoir and I would recommend it to anyone interested in the portrayal of disabilities in horror and history.
Thank you to NetGalley, Northwestern University Press, and Curbstone Books 2 for access to this eARC in exchange for an honest review!
Matt Lee’s memoir takes an interesting approach to being born and living with a disability by discussing the ways in which disability and monstrosity have been linked throughout history, culture, and media. I really enjoyed his insightful reflections and thought the references were well researched and fit his topics well.
I was not a huge fan of the format of this memoir. Each paragraph changes topics which leaves stories/asides spread out across the entire memoir. I found myself forgetting what had happened by the time we came back to a topic and overall wish the historical and cultural vignettes had been collected and told together.
I was also bothered by the way women in the author’s life were spoken about at the beginning of the book, however I see what the author was trying to accomplish and by the last chapter I was able to understand and see the personal reflections and growth made.
Overall this was an interesting memoir and I would recommend it to anyone interested in the portrayal of disabilities in horror and history.
Thank you to NetGalley, Northwestern University Press, and Curbstone Books 2 for access to this eARC in exchange for an honest review!
July 11, 2024
The style of this book is truly fresh and a step away from traditional memoirs, which for me was highly appealing. The juxtaposition of life as a disabled person and society's view of disability in film, particularly horror, worked perfectly. The amount of research that went into the topics in the book was astounding. Lee does not just look too shock but to educate in a very stylized and unique fashion. I highly recommend this book to anyone looking to step out of the box and read something that is both moving, educational, and unlike anything else out there.
June 7, 2024
Thank you to net galley for the ARC of this book. Matt Lee takes turns narrating parts of his life living with a disability and citing facts about historical events, such as the lives of disabled artists, like Frida Kahlo, and the Nazi’s T4 Aktion program, to name a few. The book was both eye opening and disturbing.
June 10, 2024
Wonderfully artful memoir written in fragments. One of the most unique books I've had the pleasure of reading. With brutal honesty and biting humor, Matt Lee holds no punches. If you like experimental work and lyrical prose, you'll love this book! (I know I did.)
This was my first read but will certainly not be my last!
This was my first read but will certainly not be my last!
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July 6, 2024Thank you to NetGalley for sending me this book in exchange for an honest review. Full review to come.
July 17, 2024
3.5. wish there were more personal threads but fascinating media and history asides
May 20, 2024
A challenging and extraordinarily powerful work. A beautifully organized collage of gut-wrenching history.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews