From international drag superstar and pop culture icon RuPaul, comes his most revealing and personal work to date—a brutally honest, surprisingly poignant, and deeply intimate memoir of growing up Black, poor, and queer in a broken home to discovering the power of performance, found family, and self-acceptance.
His most earnest foray into self-fashioning yet ... Strikes a very different and altogether less congenial tone. It, too, is an exercise in self-making, and it, too, ponders the construction of identity, but it does so by way of platitudes culled from self-help ... If the earlier RuPaul was more fun, this one is a better stylist ... And even when it is not lyrical, The House of Hidden Meanings is admirably readable, so long as it sticks to vignettes, particularly those that conjure up the heady days of disco ... Platitudes disappoint because RuPaul is capable of drive-by meditations that pack a punch ... What if I would rather luxuriate in the illusion, in those televised fantasies that are so much more vivid than reality?
The meanings laid bare in the text contradict RuPaul’s narration again and again. What’s revealed is a striver high on his own supply who tries to spin his story as empathetic wisdom draped in Instagram-ready captions ... Living a life and coherently expressing a life story on the page are two very different arts. Rather than patiently allowing his tale to unfold, he struggles not to remind us that everything that has ever happened to him happened for a reason.
A memoir that is by turns shocking, poignant, fantastically egotistical and often wise ... Dizzyingly fast-paced ... Each vignette is described with brisk efficiency, like a well-rehearsed anecdote: this could start to feel tiresome if the stories weren’t so consistently entertaining.
