This is my first non-fiction review in over a decade. I don’t usually like to consume reality in large, novel-sized chunks. Articles and the occasional academic papers (thanks to my MBA) are more than enough for me.
As I read All About Love by Bell Hooks, I worried that I wouldn’t have much to say. This is a New York Times Bestseller and I’m no expert on love. I’d surely consume everything Bell Hooks had to teach and, hopefully, walk away a bit more emotionally intelligent. No review needed.
While that is mostly true, I’m writing the first part of this review with five chapters left to go. Don’t worry, I’ll finish reading and injecting my thoughts here before this is posted (of course). However, I just read the chapter on community: Community: Loving Community and I have some critical thoughts.
Is your heart squeezing at that too? I’m stressed. Is it legal to disagree with Bell Hooks? The intelligent, profound Bell Hooks?
Well, that’s what I’m here to do apparently. While most of the book up to this point has had me sighing and gasping in understanding, this chapter was a miss for me specifically.
Well, not the whole chapter– the beginning was illuminating. Hooks put words to general truths I’d learned early on in life: how the patriarchal nuclear family is an inefficient and harmful product of capitalism and patriarchal structures. She explained the damaging system where this nuclear family is meant to be led by one man, who is generally emotionally chaotic and neglectful. Yeah, I’ve seen that many times over. It was validating to see it in plain text and to now have a vocabulary around the subject.
Things went sideways in the community chapter when she began writing about forgiveness.
I can hear my sister laughing from here. She just sent me a video of a man explaining that Virgos are vengeful.
There were a couple moments throughout this novel where I had to pause and tell myself that Hooks is clearly from another generation. The latter half of this chapter exemplified that.
It started strong when Hooks noted that, “Many of us learn as children that friendship should never be seen as just as important as family ties. However, friendship is the place in which a great majority of us have our first glimpse of redemptive love and caring community.” (p. 134) While this isn’t true for me–a person blessed to be born into a large, connected family where my cousins were my first friends–I see the value in the message.
She lost me later when she spoke about a friend who suddenly and inexplicably betrayed her by publicly writing negative critiques of her work, which Hooks described as vicious attacks. With no mention of communication regarding these attacks, Hooks says that forgiveness allowed her to understand why the “friend” might have acted this way. She then forgave her and noted that she would keep “a place in my heart should she [the friend] wish to claim it.” (p. 140)
I underlined that line in the book and wrote “I disagree!” because what do you mean? Why should anyone manufacture forgiveness for an illogically hateful person?
I had a friend like that: illogically hateful. Somehow her betrayals always surprised me because she coated them in over-exaggerated compliments, kind gestures, and feigned ignorance. After a decade of witnessing and sometimes enduring this, I cut her off. More importantly, I no longer hold space in my heart for someone who proved they are undeserving of my love.
There was another part of this chapter that struck me even more deeply. I’ll be brave and try not to cry and I type this in a crowded cafe.
On the very last page of the chapter, she brings up the topic of estrangement and how she encourages people to repair relationships with estranged family members. Why? She didn’t give a good reason. Well, she did say that maybe there would be positive changes eventually.
She talked about her sister who is a lesbian and dealt with homophobic family. Hooks explained that she was outraged for her sister but also encouraged her to not distance herself from family. This disgusted me as someone who came out as queer, dealt with negative responses from my parents, and decided to protect myself from their dysfunctional love by exiting their orbit.
According to Bell Hooks, I am supposed to endure fractured and conditional love and be shamed for who I’ve been since birth. For what? To commune with people who hate me at my core.
I had whiplash as I read these last few sentences in the chapter. A few pages earlier, Hooks was saying that friendships are sometimes our first and most profound loves before family connections. But now, family was so important that emotional abuse was necessary. Nah, I don’t like that.
I also felt for her lesbian sister.
When I came out, my sister shielded me. She protected me from my parents’ abuse and tried to meet them within the small limits of their conservative brains. She shared Catholic resources to help them understand their queer child. She made it clear that it was their responsibility to heal the relationship in this parent-child dynamic. And, since they refused, she has done everything to build community with me and keep their harm away.
Hooks could have said something profound about chosen family here; building community that is respectful and genuine. Instead, she perpetuated the harmful idea that one must abandon their own safety for the sake of blood ties.
Phew. Now that that’s over, let’s talk about the things I loved.
I’ve never tried to define love. Before reading this book, I would’ve said that there are many types of love–each requiring a different definition. After reading All About Love, I understand that only one definition is needed. As Hooks writes:
“When we are loving we openly and honestly express care, affection, responsibility, respect, commitment, and trust.” (p. 14)
Directly after, Hooks explains, “Definitions are vital starting points for the imagination.” That line made me salivate. Definitions are generally understood to be confining, but Hooks describes them as a starting point. I love that.
I have a confession to make. This is the second time I’ve tried to read this book. The first time was with an ex-partner who wasn’t a big reader. I got to the second chapter about Childhood Lessons, got triggered, and put it down. Both of our copies gathered dust. Now, reading the book in full, I wonder if it would’ve changed the outcome of that relationship. Not for the reasons that you may think. Sure, Hooks talks about romantic love but this book is about so much more. I can already feel my understanding and philosophy of love changing. Would that have helped me in the relationship?
Or would I have left sooner upon reading the lines:
“All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm’s way.” (p. 137)
I’m laughing (bitterly) because Hooks wrote this profound line, then encouraged enduring cruelty and abuse from family members a few pages later. Sorry, sorry, I’ll let it go.
Back to the review, All About Love is….well, all about love. Love in the context of self-care, love in the context of friendship, love in the context of community, love in the context of nuclear and extended family, love in the context of romance. When I picked up the book, I thought it would be mostly about the latter. I mostly associated love with romance and have always been a fan of romance. Now I know that my lifelong desire for romance is partly due to my socialization–Disney movies and the quiet training to be a caretaker as a young girl into womanhood. Hooks talks about how men are socialized, too. How they are taught to pursue power, avoid vulnerability of emotion, and seek connection through sex.
Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.
I appreciated the deeper understanding. However–while I was able to track many similarities between these hetero-cis men and the queer masculine partners I’ve had in the past–I often felt like a lot of this book wasn’t very relevant to me. At least, not right now. I understand the need for the conversation, but assessments of men vs. women, masculine vs. feminine, blah vs. blah become a boring binary discussion. As a queer, I’m inclined to prefer discussions that extend beyond those confines.
Hooks really got into romantic love in chapter ten, aptly titled: Romance: Sweet Love. I started this chapter with a little bit of a thrill. Not to downplay the valuable lessons in other chapters, but I was excited to finally get what my love-bruised heart had initially set out to explore. I marked up just about every page of this chapter as sweet reflections, thoughtful musings, wonton longing, and vengeful validation floated into my mind.
Throughout the novel, Hooks quotes many different authors–from the Bible to Martin Luther King Jr to Marianne Williamson (yikes). I enjoyed the quotes in the romance chapter the most.
Harriet Lerner wrote in Life Preservers that people want a partner who is, “mature and intelligent, loyal and trustworthy, loving and attentive, sensitive and open, kind and nurturant, competent and responsible.”
I immediately lamented that none of my romantic interests have ticked all those boxes. Then Bell Hooks challenged me to ask if I met that standard. Umm. Yes?
A few pages later Hooks talks about how we see false versions of our love interests because we are blinded by the initial connection. She quotes Thomas Moore who in Soul Mates writes, “The soul thrives in ephemeral fantasies.”
I choked on that line, beautifully written and boldly disrobing. As someone who has often gleefully called myself delusional, I felt sufficiently called out.
The final nail in my romance coffin came as Hooks explained the difference between romance and true love. As she details in every other chapter, love is about work. And so is true romantic love.
I’ve always maintained this, despite my many fantasies about “happily ever after love.” True love takes as much dedication, transformation, and evolution as life demands. If we are healthy, we are always evolving until the day we die, so our relationships–platonic and romantic– must also evolve. It was pleasurable to find that same understanding in this novel. Hooks writes:
“…when we commit to true love, we are committed to being changed, to being acted upon by the beloved in a way that enables us to be more fully self-actualized.” (p. 185)
And that was it for me. Put the hammer down and float me down the river because I was sanctified in that very moment. Recant all my criticisms of Hooks’ work because I got the validation and understanding that I needed. I ticked all the boxes:
- I meet the criteria of healthy love.
- My relationships failed in the past because my soul was lost in ephemeral fantasies.
- I’ve given partners true love but have only received romance in return because they refused to mutually engage in “constructive struggle and change.”
Amen, amen I say to you. I was never the problem! That was a joke… not really. Bell Hooks is probably rolling her eyes from the other side. I’ll wrap up this review before it becomes even more of a journal entry or personal essay.
The last chapters were on Loss, Healing, and Destiny.
I appreciated Hooks’ focus on death in the chapter about loss. She explains it as something that we oddly obsess over in our culture in a negative way, focusing on violence and the fear of death. She explains,
“Death is among us. To see it always and only as a negative subject is to lose sight of its power to enhance every moment.” (p. 200)
Very true, very profound.
The chapter on healing aligned with my own long held belief: “To choose growth is to embrace a love that heals.” (p. 210)
For reasons incredibly personal to me (and downright absurd) the last chapter on destiny felt like a wicked joke after reading this entire book. Reading the biblical story about Jacob’s arduous journey back to his soulmate through trials of isolation, growth, and maturity was laughably disorienting for me. A true test from the universe. Still, I gleaned one final message on the value of releasing shame and embracing love courageously.
As you may recall, this was my non-fiction April pick for the Falling Back in Love With Love theme. So, do I love love more after reading my fiction and non-fiction picks? I think so. I saw the excitement and undeniability of love in Love & Other Disasters by Anita Kelly. However, All About Love by Bell Hooks taught me more about what love truly is, the value it holds, and the work it takes to cultivate real love. Love isn’t intangible or mysterious, it’s an intentional commitment that isn’t limited to romance.
Ultimately I’m glad I finally got around to reading All About Love. At the same time, the few problematic messages will keep me from enthusiastically recommending it to others. I will still keep a copy on my bookshelf and revisit a few key sections often.
Three stars.
UP NEXT:
After reading about love, reflecting, writing, and talking about past relationships I’m ready to move the hell on. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?
Here are our May picks:
Fiction: Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen
Non-Fiction: Imperial Intimacies: A Tale of Two Islands by Hazel Carby
May’s theme is Power, Property & Patriarchy in British Society, where we’ll explore how gender, race, and wealth influence women’s roles and agency—while also confronting how the fortunes of Britain’s wealthy, as seen in Pride & Prejudice, were built on the exploitation of Black enslaved labor, as discussed in Imperial Intimacies.