“Bluets”, Maggie Nelson
Published October 1, 2009
Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color . . .
Since 2009, when it first published, to today, Bluets has drawn scores of readers with its surprising insights into the emotional depths that make us most human—via 240 short pieces, at once lyrical and philosophical, on the color blue.
A lyrical, philosophical, and often explicit exploration of personal suffering and the limitations of vision and love, as refracted through the color blue, while folding in, and responding to, the divergent voices and preoccupations of such generative figures as Wittgenstein, Sei Shonagon, William Gass and Joan Mitchell. Bluets further confirms Maggie Nelson’s place within the pantheon of brilliant lyric essayists.
“It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one’s solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem.”
Bluets was recommended to me (indirectly) by Leonie, and I couldn’t be more grateful to her. This is one of those books that defies genre; I was trying to figure out what it is but it’s not quite poetry, not quite memoir, not quite essay, but something luminous in between. Written in 240 fragments, Maggie Nelson builds a meditation around the color blue that expands into grief, love, loss, longing, and the act of writing itself. What begins as an “obsession” with blue becomes a way of cataloging experience, as if every shade of the color holds a memory or a philosophical question. The fragments are short, sometimes only a sentence or two, but each lands with precision, like little shards of glass—sharp, beautiful, and cutting. Reading this was the best hour of my Tuesday afternoon.
FUN FACT: The author confesses that she had been accidentally on purpose mispronouncing the title of the book, so I have been pronouncing it like it is spelled. Take it up with her.
What makes Bluets so powerful is how it feels both intimate and expansive. Nelson weaves together her own heartbreak with quotations from philosophers, poets, and artists, creating a tapestry of thought that feels deeply personal and yet universal. It’s a book about color, but also about depression, desire, solitude, and survival. In fact, I want to look up other books of this kind, and perhaps build a library of color-centric tomes. Reading Bluets is like eavesdropping on someone’s inner life while recognizing pieces of your own reflected back. It’s not linear, and it’s not meant to be; it’s a collection you dip into slowly (within the hour, because it was almost time for me to leave the office), letting each fragment resonate (I plan on purchasing a hard copy because the I have to sadly return my loan to Libby).
Bluets is quiet, devastating, and beautiful—a book that lingers in your mind like an afterimage, tinted blue.
Content Warnings
Note: This is not an exhaustive list of content and trigger warnings.
sexual content • ableism
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