Detransition, Baby

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters, a NYTimes Notable Book of the Year is not my usual pick but wow am I glad I read it. It took me a while to figure out what was was going on but once I did I fell in love with these women. The writing is smart but also painful, witty then devastating. So culturally of the moment but absolutely genuine. I loved it.

I loved this novel's forthrightness, especially about some less public aspects of trans women's lives. The story is about a love triangle of sorts: Ames, who was born as James, transitioned to become Amy, and then detransitioned to be become Ames, has an affair with his boss Katrina, a cis woman, and gets her pregnant because he thought he was sterile. As they are deciding what to do about the baby and their relationship, Ames proposes to bring in his ex, Reese, a trans woman who has always wanted a baby, to help raise their child. Not surprisingly, everyone's feelings and responses in this situation are complex. One of the best parts of this novel is the interplay between what each person thinks is truly beyond the pale and what they will accept as reasonable behavior, while trying to make a new kind of family.

The first part of the novel alternates between the present day and the past, presented as weeks or years pre or post conception. This way we learn about Reese and Ames/Amy's past, both individually and as a couple. The second part of the novel is in the present, where each person in the triangle is grappling with their expectations, fears, and desires.

There are a couple of places where the conversations that characters are having feel a little preachy, but the line between preachy and enlightening is thin. I definitely was enlightened by some of those conversations, so I don't want to give that too much weight. Mostly, I just enjoyed the robust voice of this book and the generosity of spirit that the characters are reaching for. This all sounds very serious, but there are moments of dry hilarity too. I will 100% read this author again.

In this case, my four-star rating doesn't actually mean I “really liked” this novel, more that three stars wouldn't have properly communicated how impactful I found it. It generated lots of discussion in my queer psychologist consultation group, in a good way! It is hard to find stories that honor the complexity of people's real lives when that complexity is highly politicized, and Peters deserves all the accolades for writing a novel that is a form of activism without trying to do that advocacy by presenting the world with “acceptable” trans* characters - perhaps her love letter to the trans* community as it actually can be is this novel's real activism. The issues this novel raises are pressing, compelling ones, and I am glad to have thought more deeply about them. My quibbles are the following: 1) Although it's a character, not plot-driven novel, the character development is uneven. I don't think I ever really understood how Ames managed his dysphoria in his relationship with Katrina, and we get so much information about Reese in the present, but much less about her “origin story” than the other characters. 2) The characters, regardless of gender identity, are all a little exhausting in their own ways. Of course a therapist is going to suggest therapy, but...I think they might benefit from therapy?? I'm more into escapism in my reading these days. One last upside, however, is I really like how Peters nailed the dismount by ending on a solidly ambiguous note. That's the kind of frustration I don't mind handling as a reader.

This is the kind of book you need to digest. You want to understand all three of the main characters in both their flaws and strong points. The premise of this books is as complicated as it sounds, but the way the author wrote about each individual experience is exquisite and the raw representation I would like to see more of.

did not finish it- it seemed dull and I wasn't sure where it was going and then forgot about it. But it was however interesting to read about trans people and what they go through, as well as all of the technical procedures and keywords that I never knew existed. Also characters themselves were really interesting and not one dimensional

A fascinating read, beautiful and slightly messy. 3 people coming together to, perhaps, create a new family unit. Interlocking tales of queerness, womanhood, transgender experiences, detransition, sex, sexuality, gender, divorce, parenthood and, somewhere in there, love. Characters were flawed, nothing was perfect, sometimes it almost was but there was a seedy smirr around the edges. I loved how it ended but also didn't.

This feels revelatory in how it approaches the topic of being trans. What could have easily been an overly earnest intro to trans-life primer with empowering story arc or, more likely, veered into overdone misery porn, instead feels like author Torrey Peters has long ago dismissed those tropes and is interested in something more. Indeed she has a history self-publishing novellas and offering up name-your-own-price pdfs. She's well past explaining her world to the rest of us and is instead looking to see what happens when, as she puts it, you put a trans woman into a bougie domestic social novel.

Simple premise. 35-year-old Reese, a trans woman living in Brooklyn, is one day contacted by her ex, formally Amy, now detransitioned to Ames, who has knocked up his boss Katrina, a Chinese-Jewish divorcee, and is offering up the novel idea of a three-way, co-parenting of the yet to be born child. Wild.

Along the way we're gifted a ton of insight. Sure some are in your face, theories too good not to share like the “Sex and the City Problem” wherein women are constrained to one of four paths embodied by the women on the show. “Find a partner, and be a Charlotte. Have a career, and be a Samantha. Have a baby, and be a Miranda. Or finally, express oneself in art or writing, and be a Carrie.” The idea that divorce is itself a transition story, or the extended metaphor of rampaging juvenile elephants likened to a generation of trans women in the early 2010 who, without the guidance of an older generation otherwise decimated by HIV, poverty, suicide and repression, inevitably lashed out, ostracizing and punishing those around them.

But Peters is far more subtle about the ideas around performing gender and these were just eye-opening. Reese and her questionable choice in men, the idea of being subjugated, even abused reinforcing society's somewhat backwards notion of femaledom. How Ames can detransition into a man but still retains a bit a “slither” when he walks and while identifying as male doesn't know if he can quite handle the title of “father”. Even Katrina trying on “queer” with all the confrontational assertion and zealotry of a recent convert.

There's a lot to unpack but it's wrapped up in a compelling narrative that I blazed through. It's not written for me but therein lies much of its strength.

“Gender isn't a game of hopscotch, it's a fucking house of mirrors”. This book wasn't quite what I thought it was going to be, but I enjoyed it. It covers many themes, including gender dysphoria, gender norms and societal pressure, the limitations of language in describing gender and identity, the complexity and evolution of human relationships, and more. The book does an excellent job of exploring and contrasting these themes between cis and trans individuals while telling its story and ultimately notes that regardless of how you identify and no matter what societal box you may be forced into, you can feel, or be made to feel, like an outsider (while also noting the obvious disadvantages that certain groups face).

I loved this, I think because it was so very different from the other books I read. I always say that really great fiction introduces you to a world that is new to you and lets you walk around in someone else's shoes. Well, mission accomplished here. I found myself thinking a lot about this book when I was away from it and actually laughed out loud a couple of times.
It loses a star for the ending, which I found to be abrupt and heartless to do to readers who were cheering this little family on. Otherwise, it was a great read.

This book took me exceptionally long to read because it made me feel dumb. Everything was too smart and alluded to stuff I have never seen or didn't understand. And admittedly, I am not well versed in motherhood or the transgender ‘vocabulary' that you must have to be fully empathetic and engrained in this story. Because of that, I felt disconnected which is why it's 4 stars for me. There are definitely moments where I felt Katrina and Reese were battling as to who suffers more which will never sit right with me (can we just admit every grief is different? that, even grief you consider ‘worse' or ‘not as bad', is still grief in the end?). You can read any 1-2 star review and understand how some people might think about this. The writing is excellent, sometimes overwrought but still craftful.

Ultimately, what bothers me most is how others received the book. I am noticing that a lot of the low reviewers are white cis women, disguising their transphobia and intolerance, by addressing 1-2 quotes they disagree with. And HEY, I'm all for pointing out specific moments you dislike. But these quotes are usually very obviously sarcasm (and I can't help but wonder if these people actually READ the book because they might have gotten this sarcasm if they'd read the context surrounding it...or at least grasped the sarcastic tone). As for the non sarcastic moments, I think it's fair to say that trans men/women are allowed to feel spiteful and upset (sometimes selfishly) about their lives, even if that spite is directed towards cis people. This is not a book promoting expert philosophy, therefore the opinions of the characters do not have to measure up to that level. These are flawed characters written by a real trans person who has, no doubt, felt spite and jealousy just like the rest of us. Just because that spite reaches new territory (of motherhood), does not mean that spite is any less valid. There are infertile people that will forever try to convince pregnant people not to abort their babies because they were given a ‘gift'. Is this not the same thing? Is this rhetoric not rooted in the same logic...that one party has something the other one wants and will, by any means, make themselves a part of it (even if it pains the other)? Let's think critically about the HUMAN EXPERIENCE. We are allowed to write flawed, vulnerable, selfish and jealous characters because we all embody that. So before you get UP IN ARMS about a trans woman feeling slighted or upset about how cis women approach or feel about womanhood, you might want to consider how other peoples opinions and approaches might be different from yours...how those approaches might also (most certainly do) affect you because you've never gotten the chance to experience it yourself.

As for the criticism that this story is very white, I can say wholeheartedly as a black woman that I do not want white people writing for me. I do not want their interpretation of black womanhood through a symbolic black woman with a lot to say about blackness. I would actually take much more offense to this, in that it would almost certainly silence real black voices and books from black people about their own experiences...in the same way a cis person could never write this book. This is also why Katrina's character, specifically her identity as a person of color, did not work for me. It felt that the author was desperately trying to make counter arguments using Katrina, only to circle back to the ultimate point, that Reese's grief and pain is the most unbearable and thus, all the most accurate rhetoric surrounding motherhood is coming from her. While I am extremely empathetic for Reese (arguably more than any other character), I was desperate for some actual thoughtful discussion that didn't involve Katrina backing down... because after all, being an aging divorcee who's miscarried and is now having a baby with an employee, is very hard all on its own.

Let me know what you think. Or don't.