Futuristic Brazil, bisexuality, art and death in the lush world of The Summer Prince.
Quotes from The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson
“You’re an artist,” I say. “And I don’t think anyone but me truly understands what you mean by that. Not that you paint or you sculpt or you see the world in colors. You mean that you manipulate, that you express yourself on objects and use them to express you. You mean that when you chose to be the summer king, you chose to use your own body as a canvas that no one could ignore.”
I'm an artist, after all, and I live for spectacle, for the construction of emotional states and evocation of suppressed feelings.
She loved me enough to let me go and I loved her enough to stay.
Gil's shoulders sag in relief. I can't think of anyone less suited for mods than Gil. He's so very physical and human — I try to imagine him in a data stream, without the slick of his sweat after a dance, that pungent musk of earth and youth. A disembodied collection of data can dance forever, but how much would that be worth without the tension of pushing up against the limits of the body?
They haven't transcended the body as they say. Of course they haven't. Who wouldn't rather be neurons and synapses and electrochemicals and sweet, sticky orgasms? They live in their data streams because their bodies won't have them.
My body won't have me.
Power has responsibility, that's what they tell me. They should say that power has guilt and guilt has grief and no mod but death can take that away.