By Ava Shaffer
From the Oscar-nominated actor of Juno, Elliot Page turns from screen to pen in this raw and honest memoir about childhood, Hollywood, relationships, and his transition. Pageboy details Page’s experiences growing into fame and into himself by highlighting queerness, both its traumas and its joys. Riddled with nuance and reflection, Page thoughtfully explores topics of sex and intimacy, work and fame, and family found and fraught. Ultimately, this is a book about journey. As Page writes, “It is painful, the unraveling, but it leads you to you.”
I picked up a signed copy of Pageboy at Book Culture in New York City (a dangerous place for my wallet and the minimal amount of space in my suitcase). This is a heavy book and not something meant to be binged, so I took my time with it. I am happy I read and finished it during Pride Month and think it’s an important book to be reading right now. Despite my minor qualms with the writing skill, this was a powerful memoir that I highly recommend others to read.
There are consistent themes threaded throughout each chapter in the nonlinear timeline, and at no point did the book lose focus. Page’s voice is clear and present in every sentence. Although the writing style is basic at times, Page’s story and his heart make up for it. The pieces of his life he chooses to share with readers are emotional, deep, and formed the arc of his story about the winding journeys in life, how the past influences the roads ahead.
I’ve never gone into a celebrity memoir expecting to be blown away by the writing itself. As I mentioned, for Pageboy, I certainly wasn’t. Although there are some shining quotes throughout, the writing itself feels clumsy and clunky at times. Some of the inner dialogue sounds cringingly millennial, which I fear will eventually date the book. Which is a bummer, since the experiences and topics discussed in Pageboy are timeless and important to read about years from now. Still, the story and sentiment outshined the writing skill for me.
Thanks to the Percy Jackson books I read in my youth, every time I see clever chapter titles I feel a burst of joy. The chapter titles in Pageboy are astute and smart, adding a deeper consideration to the chapter contents. Page’s dry humor and clever mind come through in these titles, some of my favorites including, “Famous Asshole at Party” and “Your Heavenly Daddy.”
One of the strongest points in this book was the chapter “Just Lean In.” Page turns a sympathetic and sharp eye to his past as he shares the story of his childhood crush, Nikki. It’s devastating, raw– you can feel the ache of love lost. This short chapter highlights the joys of queer love, reveling in the longing and excitement it entails. Then reality, its prejudices and limitations, jolts the reader, leaving them feeling the fear, regret, and grief for what could have been.
“I resent that we were cheated out of our love, that beautiful surge in the heart stolen from us. I am furious at the seeds planted without our consent, the voices, and the actions that made our roads to the truth unnecessarily brutal.”
Despite the keynote of this book mentioning Juno, there is a very small amount of time actually spent during the Juno years in this memoir. The narrative is heavy on childhood experiences, spending most of our time as a reader with Page when he was a child. I appreciated this direction, it felt deeper and more human than other memoirs that just name-drop celebrities and indulge in Hollywood glamor. This book may have served better as a collection of memoir essays, since the lack of structure and organization was distracting at times. The abrupt chapter changes and timeline jumps made it difficult to contextualize what point in Page’s life each chapter was in. I began most chapters with a small sense of confusion until it was clarified (or sometimes just left unanswered) when this memory falls into place chronologically.
All that being said, I am glad for the amount of time Page spent writing about his time on set for Whip It. Not only is that an incredibly iconic movie that is fun to hear about the creation of, but I was also moved by how that film impacted Page. His honest prose about how he had been previously treated in Hollywood, for both his wardrobe wishes and sexuality, touched on the reality of Hollywood’s response to queerness. Most of his experiences in Hollywood weighed heavy, so seeing glimpses into the joy Page felt in acting and learning roller derby for Whip It, felt like a breath of fresh air.
“Hollywood is built on leveraging queerness. Tucking it away when needed, pulling it out when beneficial, while patting themselves on the back. Hollywood doesn’t lead the way, it responds, it follows, slowly and far behind.”
There are some slower sections in this book, particularly the dry history sprinkled throughout, which was not particularly entertaining or necessary to the overall narrative, at least to me. The same can be said for the environmentalism chapters, which were interesting at first but then fell into feeling kind of preachy. There are also so many song lyrics quoted that interrupt the flow of Page’s voice. Although I’m sure they were important to him and his nostalgia, they read as shallow and unnatural to me, especially the seemingly random inclusion of “Barbie Girl” (it just made me think about Greta Gerwig’s new movie, but perhaps that’s my own distraction speaking).
Don’t go into this book expecting a scandalous tell-all dish fest about every Hollywood big-name Page has worked with. Page handles the discussion of other celebrities, and those without fame as well, in this book with such courtesy and kindness, his heart shines through in each instance. I am so happy to hear that Drew Barrymore is a nice person in real life and that Jonah Hill and Michael Cera were awkward at parties. The section about his stalker when he was young was genuinely horrifying, and the thoughtfulness and grace with which he discusses this traumatic experience is striking.
That’s not to say this memoir doesn’t give some juicy details about Page’s personal life. Trust me, the chapter “Your Heavenly Daddy” does exactly that. This section details the evolution of his relationship with Kate Mara, from party flirting to heartbreaking separation. Although I could’ve gone without the sex scene narrations that read like a cheesy mass-market paperback romance, this section fulfilled the easy-to-please part of my brain that craves just a bit of celebrity gossip in a memoir. In this chapter Page’s writing shows that there is still so much care and love between the pair, it was truly beautiful.
“Sprawled out, bare, I crave gentleness.”
Towards the end of the memoir, Page describes his transition and how the pandemic affected his journey. These sections made me think about how a major event like COVID will impact the future of memoir as a genre. I was fascinated by Page’s experience in the cabin, and am curious about how the pandemic will seep into the ink of memoirs for generations to come.
In short, Pageboy left me moved. It also left me wanting to rewatch Whip It too.