Publishers Weekly
07/26/2021
In this sparkling debut, Winston dives headlong into a life of confusion and second-guessing her queer desire, only to realize that “maybe confusion is as queer as it gets.” As someone who grew up in the cornfields of Indiana in the early aughts, she struggled to find “sexually fluid role models” to help her understand her bisexuality. In a series of essays, Winston viscerally describes the sense of being unmoored without language to describe herself and the difficult path to finding it, all with a breezy irreverence that will enamor her to fans of millennial essayists like Samantha Irby and Jia Tolentino. One of her greatest strengths is in pivoting from acerbic wit to earnest reflection, as she does in a standout essay about the social construction of ugliness and masturbating on AIM—aptly titled “True Life: I Masturbate Wrong”—and in another about the importance of setting boundaries. Winston’s regular use of content warnings and Twitter handles may put off some readers, but those whose lives have been similarly shaped by social media will appreciate the roles these signifiers play in this story of searching for love by a writer to watch. In playfully queering the coming-of-age story, Winston has written something wholly original, and entirely delightful. Agent: Wendy Sherman, Wendy Sherman Assoc. (Oct.)
Ilana Glazer
Jen Winston has been unlearning and learning anew and sharing that experience for over a decade. Her vulnerability contrasted with her self-containment provides an accessible, prescient education that is simultaneously not indulgent and delightfully pleasurable. Jen’s work makes me feel safe, seen, proudly queer, and proudly woman, encompassing all the facets.
BuzzFeed
I found Jen Winston’s forthcoming memoir so resonant that I eventually had to stop underlining it because the book was looking ridiculous. She weaves research and humor seamlessly, contextualizing relatable experiences like bi imposter syndrome, wondering if you simply want to ‘be’ your same-sex crushes, and the external/internalized gatekeeping from the larger queer community. This book is an entertaining-yet-information-packed crash course in what bisexuality can really mean.
Glamour
In this cackle-loudly-and-send-quotes-to-your-friends chronicle of bisexuality, Winston takes us from banana blow job practice to a confusing adulthood of wondering if she is entitled to the Chromatica Oreos. It’s a memoir but also a rich snapshot of one part of queer culture, a story of awkwardness and identity crisis that Winston hopes will “become obsolete.” The wonder will stay, she promises, but the wondering where you belong will become a thing of the past.
OprahDaily.com
Provocative and profound, funny and frank.
Shondaland
In Greedy, Winston hilariously, entertainingly, and honestly approaches her journey to asserting her sexuality. But this isn’t just any memoir; it’s also an educational examination that delves into identity, cultural misunderstandings of bisexuality and the microaggressions that come along with that, why coming out bi has specific challenges, and more.
Diana Spechler
Reading Greedy is like hanging out with your coolest friend—the one who knows where to find the best party in Amsterdam and the most important protest in New York; the one with the wildest stories, the perfect reading suggestions, and hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers. As affecting as it is thought-provoking, Jen Winston’s debut is part memoir, part call to action, and all heart.
Kirkus Reviews
2021-09-15
Winston looks to her own life and love experiences and finds "bi erasure," invisibility, and biphobia.
When the author came out as bisexual, she thought "no one would care." She soon discovered that lesbians "tend to carry their bias quietly, losing interest especially fast" on dating apps, and that others assume bisexuality is a "gateway identity.” However, for Winston, her bi identity is vital, "a lens through which to reimagine our world." She recounts her dating life with plenty of self-deprecating humor and many knowing references to both pop culture and queer theory. Her lack of shame around kinky sex is refreshing, as in her account of learning shibari, the Japanese art of bondage, and content warnings at the start of two chapters flag instances of substance abuse, sexual assault, and police brutality. Winston dissects a "girl crush" in clinical terminology, determining if it's malignant or benign, and she describes how gay dance clubs offer her "worship, safety and refuge," as churches do for others. She questions if she's attracted to women because of the male gaze or in spite of it: Do her sexual impulses stem from "lust, objectification, a sense of sisterhood, or all three"? At 30 years old, writes the author, "I needed to label my sexuality—if I didn't explicitly name my queerness, it seemed too slippery." Queer love stories are the best, she decides, because queer people are "forced to self-determine." Near the end of the book, she describes finding true love in the form of a "queer, trans/nonbinary person who takes a low dose of testosterone." Queer sex is "worth the hype," she writes. Winston considers gender to be confining—“It feels like quarantine”—and above all, her story is about love that is "rooted in radical, asymmetrical truth."
A well-reasoned and entertaining affirmation of gender fluidity.
