Okay - this book has left me speechless, but I will try. This is going to be a long and personal review. I would recommend everyone read this book.
Someone else said this book feels like a book for trans people, rather than a book to explain transness to cis people, and I would agree, although it's still the best work I've found in terms of articulating things I'd like the people around me to understand.
It is a very particular experience to have transitioned before it was as well-known and supported as it is now. It's something that a lot of people in our current social context cannot understand; how desperately under-resourced we were, how different being trans was then than it is now. While every trans experience is different, this one so resembled mine that I have been a low key wreck for the duration of my time with this book and I also feel a sense of grief at it's ending (and I say that jokingly after a good fantasy romp, but I mean it seriously this time).
I need to call out specifically the way this book articulates a few things in particular.
- The isolation and confusion of being a young kid who is trans but has absolutely no idea about those concepts or words, and who - when exposed to it - can only access stories of people transitioning in the "opposite" direction, and even then, usually depicted in such horrific ways that we can't reconcile our existence, wondering how to be an impossible thing, creating delusional narratives in order to try to play at a "regular" life, bargaining, etc.
- The violence that overtakes people when their ideas of gender are threatened. I didn't grow up in a small town, but the reactions of the small town people in this book mirrored those of my own social group, family, school, friends, when it was me. The way people tell you repeatedly, aggressively, that you are unlovable if you continue to be who you are, that you are "being" wrong, or loving wrong, that your survival means pain for the people you're close to. Seeing these things on the page was so sadly comforting. The way it can take your parents more than a decade to be able to stomach you, and the way you have to work at that balance of shame and anger and forgiveness and grace and confusion. At the risk of sounding like a crotchety old man, a lot of people these days do not understand that transitioning 15 years ago more resembled transitioning in the 70's than it resembles transitioning now. Which brings me to:
- The fantastic social commentary and articulation of the complex relationship that trans elders (oof, am I a trans elder now?) have with trans and gender non-conforming youth and experiences these days. People are thinking about and doing gender very differently. Yes, we fought for this. We want things to be easy for trans and gender non-conforming people, that has always been the goal. We want it to be easy, we want it to be socially normal with abundant resources, we want the general public to know what a pronoun is and be inclined toward respecting it.
That being said, it's hard to reconcile some of it. There are things I struggle with, but I don't feel it's useful to air my own lack of understanding too much. For people in decades past, it was a life or death decision to transition - in which we knew that we were actively choosing trauma and violence and rejection in order to be who we were, because the alternative was even more of an impossibility. I think this book hosts a really good articulation of why it is hard for older trans people to wrap their heads around the new social norms in which there is often little gravity given to the decision to move through the world as a gender non-conforming person. It is great progress, it is to be celebrated, but it is different - and until now it's a perspective that has been absent from the conversation as older trans people's voices are not typically uplifted.
Absent from this book are detailed descriptions about what dysphoria is like, and while we see with Sylvia how brutally painful and depleting it is to be a visibly trans person in the world, Max's visible mid-transition years are missing. Imagine the bathroom scene, and imagine it happening weekly for years. I am good with these things being left out of the book though; as I said, this feels like a book written by and for trans people. I am glad it's not trauma porn. "Nevada" exists to talk about the delayed development element. "Stone Butch Blues" exists if you want to know about the pain and violence. This book exists to gently remind me of the years I have distanced myself from, and to leave me with a sense of hope and feeling a little less disconnected from the whole world.
This is not something I talk about, and it is a huge overshare, but the shock of being seen has awoken something in me that I now have to deal with. I am really, really grateful to Griffin Hansbury for this work.