Due to a sudden, unexpected passing in the family a few years ago and another more recently and my subsequent (mental) health issues stemming from that, I was unable to download this book in time to review it before it was archived as I did not visit this site for several years after the bereavements. This meant I didn't read or venture onto netgalley for years as not only did it remind me of that person as they shared my passion for reading, but I also struggled to maintain interest in anything due to overwhelming depression. I was therefore unable to download this title in time and so I couldn't give a review as it wasn't successfully acquired before it was archived. The second issue that has happened with some of my other books is that I had them downloaded to one particular device and said device is now defunct, so I have no access to those books anymore, sadly.

This means I can't leave an accurate reflection of my feelings towards the book as I am unable to read it now and so I am leaving a message of explanation instead. I am now back to reading and reviewing full time as once considerable time had passed I have found that books have been helping me significantly in terms of my mindset and mental health - this was after having no interest in anything for quite a number of years after the passings. Anything requested and approved will be read and a review written and posted to Amazon (where I am a Hall of Famer & Top Reviewer), Goodreads (where I have several thousand friends and the same amount who follow my reviews) and Waterstones (or Barnes & Noble if the publisher is American based). Thank you for the opportunity and apologies for the inconvenience.

"We became mothers because we no longer had mothers of our own."

This is a fictional account set in New York City in the 1990s that focuses on five middle-aged House Mothers who are undertaking a silent protest on the steps of City Hall in memory of the children missing from their houses.

The story is told from three POV - One of the mothers; One of their former children, Teddy, who now works for the City; and a Caller at a Vogue ball.

I'll start by saying that this isn't the book I thought it was. For some reason I thought it was non-fiction - but there's an authenticity to it that makes it feel very genuine and real.

The Caller's chapters are essentially just category after category or one word repeated over and over again but there's a sort of poetic charm to it, it's very evocative.

I think I enjoyed Teddy's chapters the most (the Chanel story broke my heart) - he speaks so well about going from a child role to a parental role, trying to look out for the mothers and use his influence in his job to try and protect them during their protest.


The protest itself was incredibly sad. It was a silent representation of the complete lack of interest shown to missing people just because of their gender, race, and/or sexuality. These children were going missing regularly and nobody gave a damn.

I found the book overall to be melancholy, reflective, and an important read about chosen family, safe spaces, and what happens when the child becomes the parent. It was also a reminder of how Black trans women are still an incredibly at-risk group when it comes to safety.

In 2019, the American Medical Association identified an "epidemic" of violence against Black trans women in the US. The rate of death has only climbed since. In 2021, between June 25th and July 3rd, six Black trans women were found dead in a brutal nine-day stretch. Brayla Stone, Merci Mack, Shakiie Peters, Draya McCarty, Tatiana Hall, and Bree Black. Countless others have been posthumously misgendered.

With thanks to @littlebrownbookgroup_uk for the arc via @Netgalley

I had high hopes for this book, but I really don’t think that I “got” it. As it was all written in the third person, I struggled to work out who some chapters were about until I was a good way into them. And considering the subject matter, the ballroom culture, the missing children, it was just quite uninspiring. Perhaps I’m just not the target audience for this book. Actually, I DON’T agree with this. I was really keen to read a book about Drag culture and to learn something from it, and to some degree, I did. I just wish there had been a bit more “oomph”. Even the scene with the gun barely raised a gasp from me - it was more of a “but why?” Maybe I missed the motivation. I don’t know. This book has a lot of 4 and 5 star reviews on Goodreads, which just goes to show that what doesn’t work for one person works really well for another. I’m glad I tried it though.

Niven Govinden is such an exceptional writer. His books, all very different, explore the relationship between art and life. This one coincidentally came out at a time of increased interest in the Ball scene in New York, with Ryan Murphy's cleaned-up Pose and a renewed look at Paris is Burning but this is a very different book.

Unfortunately, I have not been able to read and review this book.

After losing and replacing my broken Kindle and getting a new phone I was unable to download the title again for review as it was no longer available on Netgalley.

I’m really sorry about this and hope that it won’t affect you allowing me to read and review your titles in the future.

Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity.
Natalie.

My thanks to Little Brown Book Group U.K. for an eARC via NetGalley of ‘This Brutal House’ by Niven Govinden in exchange for an honest review. It was published in June 2019. My apologies for the late feedback.

“On the steps of New York’s City Hall, five ageing Mothers sit in silent protest. They are the guardians of the vogue ball community - queer men who opened their hearts and homes to countless lost Children, providing safe spaces for them to explore their true selves.”

A number of the Children have gone missing but the authorities are ignoring this situation and the police are not investigating. The Mothers are desperate to change this. They are assisted by Terry, who was raised by the Mothers and is now a City clerk. Yet he gets caught between both camps when his employers ask him to broker a peace.

I only became aware of the vogue ball community after watching Ryan Murphy’s ’Pose’ and hearing related discussions on various television shows.

Even though I felt that this was an important subject, I didn’t find this a particularly easy novel to read in terms of its narrative style.

Aside from Terry and a few of the Lost Children there were no named main characters. The Mothers were just identified by that collective title rather than as individuals and their experiences are related using the first person plural.

Even though this was clearly Govinden’s intention, it made it hard for me to feel a connection with them. I wanted to know their stories rather than just see them as fulfilling the Mother archetype. Maybe ‘Pose’ has spoiled me in that respect.

There also were the two Vogue Caller chapters. The first called to mind the ‘Pose’ character, Pray-Tell, who announces: ‘The Category is:...’ at each ball. The many, many categories listed were intriguing but I felt swamped! Then the second chapter was page after page of the word ‘Walk’. Certainly both chapters caught my attention and interjected some fun into this tragic tale but I found them a little disjointed.

Overall, I feel that Govinden engaged with these themes with sensitivity and his writing was beautiful but that his experimental style proved challenging for me.

Reading interviews with him it’s clear that while ‘This Brutal House’ is fiction it draws on Govinden’s own experiences with New York’s drag scene. He explains: “It’s very much a product of lived experience and going out and consuming culture,”. Certainly it feel authentic and has the ‘realness’ sought by those taking part in the balls.

I was grateful to have the opportunity to read and review it. It is a novel that is hard to rate because it won’t be to everyone’s taste and my own response was mixed.

It was difficult to rate but settled after much deliberation on 3.5 stars rounded up to 4.

This Brutal House is a stylish and stylised account of the Vogue 'mothers' of New York. Covering similar territory to last years The House of Impossible Beauties, This Brutal House explores the lives of the house mothers and the boys that they take in. There is an incantatory style to the writing as the story of the mothers is told in the first person plural, which works very well. The other main character Teddy, is a boy who grew up with the mothers but now works in City Hall. When the mothers take a protest to the City Hall steps, he finds himself caught in the middle.
The plot gets a little lost towards the end, but the book contains some fine characterisation and writing, particularly the 'Vogue Caller' sections.
A good read in tandem with The House of Impossible Beauties.

A stunningly and beautifully written piece of art. If “Paris is burning” was a book. The story might seem too lyrical at first but the words just mesmerise you like a mythological mermaid.

This Brutal House by Niven Govinden is set in New York in 1980s/1990s, with a look at the balls drag queens would hold, think RuPaul's Drag Race for the commentary as they each walk the floor, showing off their looks.

We also see a silent protest held outside City Hall, where drag mothers are sitting, waiting for someone to care enough to look into the disappearances of their drag children that has been going on for years.

I did find this an unusual read. The story flows around the protest, and telling us about how life was, and I don't think there was ever a conclusion, which is probably a telling fact that some things are still the same.

This book did make me think about the challenges of people being 'other', whether that is intelligent, gay, drag queen, or unhappy with their lives. It was immersive, and I felt like there should be a play list to go with each chapter.

This Brutal House was published on 6th June 2019, and is available to buy on Amazon and on Waterstones. I've found a link to where you can search for local bookshops, including independent!

I was given this book for free in return for an unbiased review, so my thanks to NetGalley and to Little, Brown Book Group (the publishers) for this book.

Check out my GoodReads profile to see more reviews!

I think the best novels say as much in their form as well as in their content. Niven Govinden’s new novel “This Brutal House” is about a silent protest staged by several mothers from different drag houses in front of NYC’s City Hall. For years these mothers housed many queer children who were forced to leave the homes of their biological families. But when these children have gone missing the police force haven’t taken their disappearances seriously and even used these losses as an opportunity to harass and interrogate the lifestyle embodied by these drag houses. Frustrated and tired of trying to form a dialogue these mothers sit in silent protest because “we are past words.” The author conveys the complexity of this political act in a number of ways. Govinden invokes their collective voice to capture the tenor and sweep of their emotions and experiences. But he also relates the story of Teddy, a child from these drag houses who now works in City Hall and is caught between these two very different social spheres. By switching between these points of view and relating large sections through dialogue Govinden allows us to wholly feel this complicated situation and hear everything that’s left unspoken in the midst of these drag mothers’ mute resistance.

There was a long period during which drag was seen as a fairly niche section of the queer community where the only far-reaching understanding of it came from the vital documentary ‘Paris is Burning’. But, in recent years, it’s become more popular with the advent of TV shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race and ‘Pose’ as well as some excellent fiction such as Joseph Cassara’s “The House of Impossible Beauties”. Govinden doesn’t seek to create a guide to understanding the form and rules of drag houses in this novel. Those who know nothing about drag will no doubt feel disorientated when they start reading it, but that shouldn’t deter book lovers who appreciate engaging and imaginative fiction. Instead of explaining the author immerses the reader in the attitudes and social dynamics of drag houses showing how they are in their essence and very existence a political phenomenon. These are the voices of children who often provide an alternative to the dominant narrative of the largely white, heterosexual and patriarchal society they’ve been born into. By inhabiting the art, fantasy and cut-throat competition of drag balls or immersing themselves in the capitalist dreams of high end stores they find “bubbles which envelop and shield you from real life.” In doing so they discover succour, kinship and vitality amidst a society that seeks to stultify or erase those who are queer and refuse to conform to its pervading values.

Govinden intelligently conveys the essence of this community by indulging in the rich pleasures, fierce attitudes and humour of the drag ball scene. Several pages are narrated from the perspective an MC calling out a multiplicity of drag categories – everything from “backstreet dancer realness” to “Miami Jewish matron” realness. Through this repetition with endless variations and a keen ear for the irreverent we feel how these individuals can simultaneously inhabit and play upon the full spectrum of identity: “The balls were heaven as we divined; a right we would give our last breath for.” In the exactitude of criteria there is an ironic freedom to be found from all categories of being and a liberation from all the boxes which society tries to put people into. I loved how Govinden’s framing of the scene conveyed both the celebratory joy and the heartrending sincerity of these balls and their expression of realness. This is tribute to the craft and excruciatingly hard work which goes into drag as an artform. I especially enjoyed when the author likened drag families preparing for a ball to soldiers preparing for war: “Weeks of preparation! Through that time life was somehow lived, yet this took over everything. Soldiers readying for battle clean their gun and polish boots. They run ten miles, expelling yet withholding the energy they will need. They’re drugged up to the eyeballs, fucking comfort women in conflict zones. No different to us: method and masculinity shared.”

The novel conscientiously gives space to the collective voices of the drag mothers, their children and the police force. Between these groups there is the friction of misunderstanding or opposition. But spaced throughout the novel Teddy’s experiences and dilemmas give a personal weight to these fraught groups as he invokes his own understanding of the city. Perhaps one of the most admirable things about this novel is how Govinden refuses to give a simplified and one-sided view of the drag scene - which in some recent popularised iterations has become more about catty indulgence rather than politics. The mothers in “This Brutal House” are queens worthy of reverence but they are not saints. Some of their children have become lost due to illness or violence, but others wilfully left out of rebellion or because they simply grew up and moved on. At one point the children say of the mothers “Their mania for taking our money? They were our bosses. Gang masters in drags.” Just like in many biological families the propensity for parents dominating and exploiting their children (and vice versa) is just as prevalent in drag families. But because there aren’t legalized social structures to give credence and support to drag families it can more often lead to isolation. This is aptly summarised in the haunting lines: “Drag is nothing but family. Drag is everything but family. Remember this.”

This novel is saturated with a verve which made it compulsive and pleasurable reading for me, but I also savoured the author’s exactitude in his language and ear for dialogue which brought these disparate groups to life. Moreover I admire the ingenuity of its structure for conveying a social scene and section of society which deserves to be recognized and celebrated.

The more time I spend this month seeking out books specifically by queer authors, the more I notice the normalcy, the nonchalance, the sheer levels of blasé at the inclusion and centring of queer characters and identities.
And yes, I know those descriptors sound strange, as though I am placing queer identities into the outside realm of odd in a place where the straights and cis sit on their thrones of 'the ordinary' but, in a vast majority of pieces of literature created in the wider environment of a heteronormative world, queer voices are never just there; there's a point to be made, a tokenism to tick off; "is there really a point to them being queer?" we hear them all call, braying in the distance, haunting our nightmares.
But, because Niven Govinden is themself, a member of the LGBTQ+ community, there is an air of unmistakable authenticity to the voices in the novel. There is no reason, they just are; just like people are. And to be surrounded in a literary environment by that much queerness, in which queer history and community was the gravitational centre, only made my neglected heart weep with joy.
The people, the city, the time, the scene shone like a thousand stars, visible in my minds eye even when I didn't try. Where they walked, I walked; what they ate, I ate; where they danced, I danced. For, amongst the hours that I spent reading This Brutal House, I was transported back to a past I had never known; brought just out of reach by the vivid, realness of its pages.
I mean, seriously, if I ever find out Niven Govinden was, in fact, not part of the legendary Ball Scene I will probably faint from the shock.
Such is the power behind the novel's heady feeling of nostalgia; of the picking apart that it does of past decisions, past dreams, past relationships. Of the examination that it carries out on the insight that can only be gained after the fact, of the true realities and impacts of a person's actions, no matter how they may have initially intended them.
It's a visceral, unflinching look at marginalisation, poverty, found families and community, in all of their interconnected, complex glory that manages to capture an era that was filled with equal levels of beauty and strength, hate and abuse. And, after breaking my heart and boosting me up in an endless cacophony of unfathomably mixed and raw emotions, it is one that I truly believe will stay with me forever.

I was excited to read This Brutal House after having watched the BBC series Pose, I was keen to discover more of the fascinating stories around the Vogue balls and the LGBT community in New York. This Brutal House started well but it never seemed to actually get to the point of the story, as a reader I felt lost in the story never knowing what it was actually about - Teddy & his life, the Mothers & their protest or Teddy & the Mothers relationship. The Vogue Caller chapters were strange, I'm not sure what seven pages of the word "Walk" with just a few other phrases thrown in every now & then brought to the story.
The ending just left me puzzled.

I was given a copy of This Brutal House from Net Galley and the Publishers in exchange for an honest review.

It’s been a long time since I didn’t finish a book, but 40% in, and I really can’t read any more.

The Mothers (men in drag) are camped on the steps of city hall in silent protest, as the number of children they shelter increasingly disappear.

I struggled to get into this – partly because of the lack of characters, beyond Teddy, one of the boys, and Sherry, now disappeared; what finished me off was what I shall call the ‘category’ chapter – page after page after page of ‘category’ lists which did me in ☹

I had high hopes for this book: having read Niven Govinden's 'Black Bread, White Beer' a couple of years ago and been struck by his confident and alternative handling of a subject (miscarriage) so often portrayed from a mother's perspective.
However, sadly my expectations were dashed as I found 'This Brutal House' impenetrable. The narrative is relayed in the plural first person of 'we' distancing the reader from individual personalities and experiences to the extent that I found it almost impossible to follow the story arc or understand the timeline as it shifts between the protest outside City Hall and the experiences of the men and the children they took into their care when all others turned away;
"Any child who had the temerity to approach us in the street or at battles, whose hunger for what we served went beyond a passing interest, was adopted. A battalion of dancers training for war. A drag army waiting to conquer. For this we expected obedience, and loyalty; and even when both were tested, we still opened our homes."
Govinden is undoubtedly a gifted wordsmith, using lyrical language and sentence structures to hold out on one';s palm and explore from different angles. However, for me, this novel failed to create the impact it intended.

My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for sharing an advance copy with me in return for an honest review.

I am sorry. I really wanted to like this book. I was looking forward to reading it. I could not get into it all. I really struggled with the writing style. Sorry.

Thank you to Netgalley for my copy.

I’ve been itching to read this since I first heard about its impending publication in a number of 2019 previews. This is the fifth novel for British author Govinden, which was a surprise as I read the novel assuming it was an American work.

Set around the time of the New York vogue balls which had their heyday in the late 80’s/early 90’s this book probably has the documentary film “Paris Is Burning” (1990) as its strongest influence. (If you haven’t seen this catch it on Netflix- it is outstanding). Since I read of this book in January we have had the UK transmission of Ryan Murphy’s “Pose” (BBC2) which was also very strong and touches very similar ground.
The vogue ball scene, although underground, has had a strong cultural link in the decades which have followed it influencing fashion and music particularly Madonna and “Rupaul’s Drag Race”. Central to the set up were the “houses” who competed in various dance/drag categories to win trophies and who were dominated by the “mothers” who provided support and often food and accommodation for those lost in NYC in return for their participation in the contests in order to raise their particular house to the desired “legendary” status.

The balls may have shifted into the background in this novel but those who participate in them are paramount. A group of “mothers” stage a silent protest on the steps of City Hall because of official incompetence at investigating disappearances of their “children”. Teddy, one of the few characters to be named in the book, is both one of the children made good by education and a City Hall employee placed into the middle of this situation. And plot-wise that is largely it.

It’s written with great energy and is direct and forthright throughout becoming at times almost sermon-like, an intense flow of the perceptions of Teddy and the collective group of mothers. As well as giving this novel its impetus it does also at times cause it to drag as there is not enough variation in the narrative style. The vogue-caller (think Pray Tell in “Pose”) has his section but it is merely a list of categories and pages of little more than the word “work” which would normally have me hurling the book across the room but which here due to the rhythmic nature of the piece (and because I find the subject matter fascinating) Govinden gets away with it. I think I would have welcomed another plot thread perhaps based upon the balls themselves in a more naturalistic style which would add greater potency to the elevated language of the narrative.

This book is not going to be to everyone’s taste but often if I have high expectations of a book before reading it they can be completely dashed but I found myself more or less involved throughout. It’s a story about outsiders attempting to conform but seeking their own refuge through their own special kind of family grouping and of throwing shade and shapes on the dancefloor.

This Brutal House is published by Dialogue in hardback on 6th June. Many thanks to the publishers and Netgalley for the advance review copy.

This Brutal House is moving, visceral; Govinden makes you live every moment, each line evoking a mood, a world.

You are there with the Mothers as they sit in silent protest on the steps of City Hall.

You are Teddy growing up broken but driven, learning to lie in order to fix things, to quietly ease things for the Mothers, using his position in City Hall to try to find a resolution.

You walk the floor to the shade of the vogue caller, living the chaos of the balls, the noise and heat of the dance floor.

---

Where This Brutal House fails, for me at least, is in its clarity. It's not enough for me to feel it. I need more concrete details. I have the bare bones of the story, but as Govinden throws us between the Mothers, Teddy and the Vogue Caller, it feels like information is falling between the cracks.

I'm not of this world of Mothers and Children and balls and drag. I don't know enough to understand the underlying meanings, to read between the lines. I don't have the history to fill in the blanks.

At the end of the book, I am left slightly confused. Emotional but confused.

Note: I received a complimentary copy of this book from Dialogue Books via Netgalley. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.

This was not for me. I did not engage with the narrator as it was all phrased as 'we' but I could not get enough of a grip on who 'we' were to particularly care. The prose was too dense and did not seem to be going anywhere. Sorry but I could not read this.

This is a well written book but unfortunately it was not my cup of tea as I couldn't connect and became bored.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine.

I couldn’t get into this book. It want really what I had expected from the description, so a bit disappointed l.