A book of poetry released by Subbed In, 2019
If you’re a snack-motivated sexpot with limited critical faculties when it comes to pop culture and a tendency to overshare, clap your ass.
If you’re dead inside and you’re crying out to be woken up there (a la Evanescence) and you really want to show it if you’re sexy and you know it slap your hams
… and then read this book.
This is a good book for bad people, no judgement. A good book for people who like a procession of dog’s dicks, groundhogs, asses, nose picking, depression and bisexual innuendo; I forget what else. A poetry collection like nothing else but actually like a lot of other things. Like chicken soup for the soul, except someone misheard and they used chicken poop instead. And now they have chicken poop instead of a soul.
‘What Sally Rooney would write if she wrote for fun. From an ode to the old women changing in swimming pool shower blocks, to a list of celebrities who own islands for self-care, to her own version of Alanis Morrisette’s “not literally ironic but inconvenient, f****d, or borderline cruel” iconic song, Eloise Grills is crazy-talented, darkly funny and, obviously, very sexy. If you loved My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh, try this one by Eloise Grills.’
—Emma Co (Bookseller, Better Read Than Dead)
102 pages, Perfect Bound, 12.5cm x 17cm, 2 colour risograph insides, 4 colour risograph cover.
Published by Glom Press, December 2018.
Named one of the Saturday Paper‘s Best Books of 2019 by Ronnie Scott, and one of Paperback Books’ Best Books of 2019
Like a smoke alarm that plays “I Believe In Miracles” by Hot Chocolate while your house burns down.
Like a greased up stripper pole for use in emergencies, only.
They say (I say) that death is life cumming, and death by a sexy female murderess is the female climax: slippery, elusive and by the time it finally comes you’ll wish you were never born. Sexy Female Murderesses is a warning to those who would never heed it anyway, and a childlike joy for others, like floating your rubber duck down a river of blood.
Grills slices up figures of history, autobiography and speech, in a delightful springtime bloodbath for famously evil and evilly famous women—dead or alive, young and old. Burn your house down, poison your whole family, shoot your lovers point blank: just read this book before you do.
WHAT ARE PEOPLE SAYING?
Tens! Tens! Tens across the board for this insanely beautiful & extremely deadly masterpiece by Eloise Grills. The last year the publishing world has seen an explosion of sanctimonious, pristinely illustrated books of inspirational women throughout history, and this funny, lyrical gem with big windswept illustrations is the perfect antidote to so much good taste! Is it poetry? Is it history? Is it memoir? Stop asking such dumbass questions and just read it already. Grills’s work is formally & lyrically daring, and it has heart, soul and thighs for days. Totally, undeniably, pour a bottle of arsenic into your husbands’s dinner good. I love it forever, no take backs.
—Hera Lindsay Bird, Sexy Female Poetess
‘Eloise Grills’ Sexy Female Murderesses is a rich and exacting literary essay’
—Ronnie Scott, The Saturday Paper
‘Grills’s book isn’t exactly a comedy. She doesn’t lose sight of the seriousness of the crimes, and doesn’t make excuses for the women who commit them. But she does attempt to reclaim their humanity. It’s a pitch black and beautifully written reflection on society’s reappraisal of “evil” women.’
‘One of the things that I was nicely surprised by… was…Grills is telling us not only her views of a woman’s place in what’s primarily a patriarchal world, but where she feels that she fits into it and how that makes her feel, and she positions herself within all of the contexts she illustrates. Literally.’
‘That’s what I like about this book, it’s tinged with the horrific, but it’s an intellectual meditation, a visual essay.’
— Comics Alternative Podcast
‘Walkley-nominated Melbourne artist Eloise Grills’ part historical profile, part memoir, part poetic eruption defies easy categorisation. Saying the book is about female murderers in history (and society’s need to categorise and pathologise ‘bad’ women) feels like a disservice to the wickedly irreverent leaps of creativity packed in this slim volume.’
‘Sexy Female Murderesses is a long, funny, and disturbing ramble on the subject that’s not unlike the work of Jessica Campbell in terms of her expressive, smudgy line. Grills’ personal tangents reveal that this is really a book about not only how she relates to the idea of feeling the need for control in her life but also about how the power of life and death over others — especially innocents like children — is the ultimate form of control. It’s not just having power, but it’s also the idea of flying in the face of everything that is expected of women in society.’
—Rob Clough, Your Chicken Enemy
‘Don’t murder me!!!’
big beautiful female theory
Acquired in a two-book deal with Brow Books. This book is to be released in 2020, along with an as-yet untitled book of collected essays and visual art to be published in 2021.
Big Beautiful Female Theory combines wild paintings, vibrant comics, piercing wit and powerful rage to explore the sexy everyday tragedy of existing in a body, especially a woman’s body, especially a fat woman’s body. The book defies easy categorisation, blending poetry, personal essay, collage, comics, illustration, photography, and memoir in its evisceration of diet culture, patriarchy, beauty norms and bad men. Grills gives a deliciously defiant form to the anxieties, fears and depression that spill from living in a culture that urges people to contour and berate their shapes. It’s filthy as it is revolutionary, awful as it is sexy. It’s a hot body opera in skin flick technicolour. In dynamic prose, Grills chews up and spits out the bitterness of existence, bucking against the restraints put on bodies by a one-size-fits-all society.
‘Big Beautiful Female Theory’ is a blazing, blistering manifesto on the fat—and hot—female form. In it, Eloise Grills takes no prisoners; she strikes at the poisonous heart of post-feminist diet culture. This exuberant and uncensored visual essay is as delightfully witty as it is radical.
— Ellena Savage, Author of Blueberries