Swole: The Making of Men and the Meaning of Muscle

by Michael Andor Brodeur

Overview

From a Washington Post critic and self-described meathead, a witty, incisive, poignant exploration of male body image, from the history of the gym to the politics of superheroes to the world of manfluencers

Michael Andor Brodeur is a Gen-X gay writer with a passion for bodybuilding and an insatiable curiosity about masculinity—a concept in which many men are currently struggling to find their place. In our current moment, where “manfluencers” on TikTok tease their audiences with their latest videos, where right-wing men espouse the importance of being “alpha,” as toxic masculinity and the patriarchy are being rightfully criticized, the nature of masculinity has become murkier than ever.

In excavating this complex topic, Brodeur uses the male body as his guide: its role in cultures from the gymnasia of ancient Greece to Walt Whitman’s essays on manly health, from the rise of Muscular Christianity in 19th-century America to the swollen superheroes and Arnold Schwarzeneggers of Brodeur’s childhood. Interweaving history, cultural criticism, memoir, and reportage, laced with an irrepressible wit, Brodeur takes us into the unique culture centered around men’s bodies, probing its limitations and the promise beyond: how men can love themselves while rejecting the aggression, objectification, and misogyny that have for so long accompanied the quest to become swole.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780807059364
Publisher:	Beacon Press
Publication date:	05/28/2024
Pages:	256
Sales rank:	136,445
Product dimensions:	9.10(w) x 6.20(h) x 1.00(d)

About the Author

Michael Andor Brodeur has been the classical music critic at the Washington Post since 2020. Previously, he held editorial and staff-writer positions at the Boston Globe and Boston’s Weekly Dig. His essays, humor, and criticism have also appeared in Nylon, Thrillist, Entrepreneur, Medium, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency and other publications. He has also released 5 music albums under different monikers, most recently writing and performing electronic music under the name New Dad.

Table of Contents

Introduction: Mikey

I
Adam: Form

II
Peter: On Manly Health

III
Lou: Wild at Heart

IV
Friedrich: Flex

V
Arnold: To Failure

VI
Angelo: The Alphas

VII
Henry: The Drag of Big

VIII
Touko: Beauty and the Beef

IX
Big Little: The Pump

X
Zeus: Membership

XI
Greg: Real Men

XII
Bones

Acknowledgments
Works Cited

Editorial Reviews

04/01/2024

Brodeur, a classical music critic for the Washington Post, debuts with a winsome and insightful blend of cultural history and memoir that tracks the idealized beefcake body from ancient Greece to today and chronicles his own queer coming-of-age transformation from “wispy, waify string bean of a boy” to “meathead.” The historical segments shed particular light on contemporary fitness culture’s development, explaining how it first emerged in early 19th-century Germany in deep entanglement with nationalist principles, and was brought to the U.S. by failed 1848 revolutionaries. Throughout, Brodeur maintains a sharp focus on the way Western culture’s perceived mind-body divide has shaped ideas about masculinity (during what he calls American men’s “first identity crisis” in the mid-19th century, the Atlantic Monthly lamented that “a race of shopkeepers, brokers and lawyers could live without bodies”). This ideological undercurrent also surfaces in the autobiographical sections. Of his teenage years, Brodeur writes: “I longed to forget I even had a body. I started thinking of myself as my thoughts.” He builds up to an intriguing hypothesis concerning today’s extremist online culture of men seeking to reclaim a lost masculinity characterized by physical fitness and misogyny. Its catalyst, according to Brodeur, was the internet itself, which, by chipping away at real-life interaction, has set in motion another identity crisis over the separation between mind and body. Punchy, entertaining, and perceptive, this delivers. (May)

Publishers Weekly

A memoir, history, and critical essay in one, sure to captivate anyone who’s ever pumped—or dreamed of pumping—iron.”
—Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review

“Brodeur maintains a sharp focus on the way Western culture’s perceived mind-body divide has shaped ideas about masculinity . . . Punchy, entertaining, and perceptive, this delivers.”
—Publishers Weekly

“[A] semiotic history that doubles as an autobiography in lifting . . . Brodeur writes witty, allusive prose about an enthusiasm not today considered highbrow.”
—Washington Post

“Brodeur’s glorious, insightful, and cackle-out-loud hilarious book is destined to be a classic.”
—Kevin Alexander, author of Burn the Ice

“A timely, unprecedented survey of an unexpected, often overlooked figure in body politics: the meathead. . . . Necessary . . . Crucial . . . For anyone engaged in the Sisyphean pursuit of muscle and bulk—and to anyone interested in engaging with a critical examination of masculinity—Swole is an invitation to broaden our view on what it means to want to get big.”
—Colin Self, artist and composer

From the Publisher

★ 2024-03-20
A self-described “meathead” writes compellingly about the world of bodybuilding.

“I am trying to get Big, and doing it very much on purpose. No, I am not sure why. Yes, you can feel my arm.” So writes Brodeur, who, at a glance, might seem an unlikely candidate for bodybuilding: He is, after all, the classical music critic for the Washington Post. But there’s more to bodybuilding than meets the eye. It’s the locus of a gay subculture, a highly visible means of self-expression, and a way of both adopting and subverting he-man ideals—and besides, “I also really love how my ass looks.” Brodeur takes readers on a wide-ranging tour of lifting and the cultural factors that propel “the long physical and psychological road of consciously building one’s body.” One is the world of childhood, in which many boys played with musclemen dolls and unconsciously absorbed their physical ideals; another was the openness of the bodybuilding culture to those who were once the “klutzes who sucked very conspicuously at team sports and grew up to opt for the weight room over the battlefield or the ball field.” Brodeur is consistently funny, but he is also a cleareyed student of the culture with a trove of trivia to fall back on: Who knew that Lou Ferrigno’s Incredible Hulk body double was a Black bodybuilder (no matter, since the filmmakers decided “green is green”) or that some current bodybuilding ideals can be traced to Dutch Renaissance art? Allowing that there are all sorts of prejudices against it, Brodeur, in the end, delivers a host of good reasons for picking up the weights and putting those muscles to work.

A memoir, history, and critical essay in one, sure to captivate anyone who’s ever pumped—or dreamed of pumping—iron.

Kirkus Reviews