Book Reviews

By Eric Page

Shon Faye The Transgender Issue (£20, Allen Lane).

Trans people in Britain today have become a culture war ‘issue’. Despite making up less than one per cent of the country’s population, they are the subjects of a toxic and increasingly polarised ‘debate’.

This short book takes us outside of this fabricated ‘culture war’ and into the hearts and lives of trans people living today and looks at that experience and asks why it is that trans communities experience things in the way they do, from accessing health, to dealing with the police, from sex work, to violence, oppression, bigotry, to homelessness to fertility and education.

Faye uses a wide range of research to underline their conclusions and bring some authentic light to a subject so often presided over by selfappointed cis experts or non-trans authors. Consistently and carefully the spotlight is pulled back on to the lives of people who are affected by these issues; trans lives, trans people, by keeping the focus clear and refusing to be drawn into poisonous and dead-end shrill arguments, the author allows a liberating idea of change to flow through the book.

Suggesting it’s a wider issue of societal change, about power and who gets to wield it, about control and who gets to benefit from that, about patriarchy and capitalism and about how we, all of us, need to honestly be the change we want to see in the world. The book is a manifesto in how to build a radically different, fully inclusive world for all people to live in, but one which cherishes, nurtures and enables trans communities to thrive and recognise the contributions they give to wider culture and community.

It’s not always an easy read but for the cis reader, who wants to learn more other than the rot produced by mainstream media, this book is a must. Faye take the time to make sure they platform, quote and share stories and experiences from a wide range of different trans people and communities and this is one of the strongest parts of the book.

Reflecting and recognising the different ways that class, colour, faith, education, money etc impact on trans lives. Keeping the emphasis on change, clearly detailing the harm caused by the current toxic situation but keeping the attention on hope, on what could and should be done by everyone interested in real equality to achieve it by working in solidarity. This is a book which offers us a way onward, to a better future.

TJ Klune Under the Whispering Door (£16.99, Jessica Kingsley).

Klune’s stories are fun, frivolous, he seduces you with the raw charm of the word and they heft some seriously emotional narratives in with the froth. In this book we meet the deeply unpleasant Wallace, a wretched man who’s just died, so we meet him as he’s collected by the Reaper at his own funeral and then taken to a tea shop – run by Hugo – in a village called Charon’s Crossing.

He’s given one week to pass through the door to the other side, so sets about living a lifetime in just seven days. A charmingly crepuscular start to a rather touching tale of the value of second chances and making the best of the time we have left. This is queer redemption, a song of opening up, a plea for living, even though you might be dead, and a soft but careful exploration of grief, although this is done sotto voice while the plot loudly does all the fun heavy lifting to keep us occupied turning the pages and laughing.

It’s a love story, a story of change, of daftness and about seeing the chains that bind us, following them to their anchors and casting off, freed from historical bindings and moving on. In this case very literally. Wallace develops feelings for Hugo. Hugo works as the Ferry Man, getting souls ready for their journey. He himself is bound by habit and convention as he preps souls for the next stage in their existence, stepping through the mysterious Whispering Door. This tender, challenging love story is perfectly handled, and although problematic, like all true love is, the hope of love’s recovery is tremendous.

Klune leaves enough mystery hanging around to make this world believable and is tender in his daftness, in a kind of Douglas Adams way, which makes space for the heavy stuff. The book explores the stages of bitterness, anger and grief in an offhand but guided way, but that’s not the drive here, it’s about people finding ways to make the most of the time they have, and finding the power to enable themselves to change, and love being worth the risk of huge change.

Throw in a ghost doggy, an impish spectral grandad and a rather swish tearoom at the end of existence and this is an uplifting, inspirational tale, shot through with a solid gold sea of queer love, guaranteed to bring a smile, even to the hardest of hearts like mine.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé Ace of Spades (£8.99, Usborne).

Our narrators Chiamaka and Devon are queer, black, Muslim, women, gay, although these are how other people perceive and treat them, to each other they are friends who share. The plot follows the threats and sabotage of these two brilliant students by the shadowy Aces, who hunts down indiscretions from their pasts, posting them publicly to try to drive them out.

They are the only two students of colour in this otherwise all white, and very rich academy. The powerful storyline takes a solidly intersectional viewpoint of the institutions, narrative and characters, allowing us to feel the pressure and positioning of our two main protagonists as they cope with the situations they find themselves in.

It’s a story not just of jealousy and privilege, but also of bigotry, targeted hate, entitlement, fear and exposes the deep secrets of the British prestigious educational institutions – here presented as the fictional academy Niveus. Its successes are rooted in systemic oppressions of black people, and who benefited from slavery, colonialism, Empire and the continued silences of the privileged moneyed classes who maintain their hold on society and were complicit in that historical exploitation.

Think Get Out mixed with Gossip Girl. If that sounds heavy, it is, so step up, but this thrilling narrative – which is one of the fastest paced books I’ve read in a while – will genuinely grip you. If you like books about sinister powerful elitist organisations who use all sorts of nefarious tricks to keep their holds on power you’ll love this book, but look in the mirror as it’s not a conspiracy thriller but the fictionalised narrative of institutionalised racism and individual prejudice focused against brilliant students told by a loud, proud, queer black voice. The twist is audacious, and the writing keeps you close to the thudding heartbeat of this electrifying plot.

Àbíké-Íyímídé is a tour de force; her explorations of friendships and gay and bi relationships are done with a tender honestly. Although aimed at teenage readers, this is a book for anyone with an appetite for authentic British queer voices who combine passionate, thrilling narrative with a vibrant intersectional social conscience. More please!