Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)

--The blurb--
"In the spring of 1974, Calliope Stephanides, a student at a girls' school in Grosse Pointe, finds herself drawn to a chain-smoking, strawberry-blond classmate with a gift for acting. The passion that furtively develops between them leads Callie to suspect that she is not like other girls. In fact, Cal has inherited a rare genetic mutation. The biological trace of a guilty secret, this gene has followed her grandparents from the crumbling Ottoman Empire to Detroit and has outlasted the glory days of the Motor City, the race riots of 1967, and the family's second migration, into the foreign country known as suburbia. Thanks to the gene, Cal is part girl, part boy. And even though the gene's epic travels have ended, her own odyssey has only begun."

--The review--
When Homer Simpson decides, in yet another new line of work, to get a fake qualification online that allows him to conduct marriage ceremonies, quite a few people step up to tie the knot under his dubious jurisdiction. One of these couples is composed of Brandine and Cletus, a recurring hick-town couple in the show. Just as Homer is about to pronounce them man and wife, he suddenly stops and says "Hey, are you two brother and sister?!", to which the couple gaily reply, "We's all kinds of things!"

It is this premise of incest, and the disastrous chain of events that it can provoke, that provides the basis of Eugenides' second novel, Middlesex. Even though the novel's approach can seem slightly contrived in places, it is mostly believable, with the author assuming the female voice very successfully. Epic in its scope, the novel is not only detailed in its plot construction and scientific research, but also gives the reader a sweeping panoramic view of twentieth-century American history. This ambition could easily leave the reader lost, but Eugenides not only traverses the different generations and time periods with ease but does well, too, in making the novel accessible as well as unusual. Writing the novel chiefly from Callie's point of view, Eugenides occasionally slips into a more omniscient tone than might be considered appropriate, and yet in conjunction with the resolution of the novel, it does end up seeming appropriate after all.

In spite of the novel's length, and the author's sophisticated use of vocabulary, it has all the momentum of a runaway freight train, compelling the reader to read on. The characters are highly human and the spanning across three generations is something that I believe to have been influenced by Zadie Smith's White Teeth. It is possible, too, that Charlie Anders drew a little inspiration in Choir Boy from the relationships that Eugenides depicts. However, one aspect of the characterisation that will be lost on the vast majority of readers is the naming of protagonist Callie's brother only as Chapter Eleven, which is an obscure political reference that I had to look up in order for it to be explained. Even if it does hold some minor element of foreshadowing, this ultimately does not enhance the story in any way, and hinders rather than helps the reader.

Colm Toibin's introduction to the novel also does not help the reader in any meaningful way: to my mind, introductions to novels should help to explain to the reader or shed further light on issues arising in the novel. Toibin's introduction, however, is more of a book review in itself, and while admittedly it is a good one, his opinion is the sole focus, and this for me has no place in an introduction (or at least very little). In any case, Eugenides' work speaks for itself, with him handling the transition between scenes with dexterity and ease. Particularly interesting is the non-chronological order in which the story is told, which leads to increasing curiosity on the reader's part not only about how Callie has got to the present day but also about Callie's burgeoning relationship with Julie. The last we see of Callie and Julie is when Callie is just about to tell Julie about her past, and even though we don't get to see Julie's reaction, this feels right: we feel as if we ought to creep away quietly and let them get on with it in private.

The novel is neither wholly a sentimental family saga nor wholly an academic treatise on gender versus sex; its blend of various genres and topics makes it more significant than this, particularly as attitudes to sexuality and gender become more open and understood, especially in relation to the recent case of Caster Semenya. In trying to alert people to and inform people about the subject of hermaphrodism and intersexuality, Eugenides certainly succeeds. As previously mentioned, it also serves as a microcosm of American history over the past century, and also incorporates James Bond-style elements, such as car chases and dodgy deals. The reader is left beyond satisfied in virtually all respects, this highly influential work deserving a place on every modern bookshelf.

Choir Boy (Charlie Anders)

--The blurb--
"Twelve-year-old choirboy Berry wants nothing more than to remain a choirboy, surrounded by perfect notes, as opposed to his imperfect, quarreling parents. Choral music and the prospect of divinity thrill him. Desperate to keep his voice from changing, he tries to injure himself, and then convinces a clinic to give him testosterone-inhibiting drugs. The hormone pills keep Berry's voice from deepening but also cause him to grow breasts. Suddenly Berry faces a world of unexpected gender issues that push him into a universe far more complex than anything he has experienced. A fantastical coming-of-age story, Choir Boy combines off-kilter humor and its own brand of modern day magic in a rollicking, bittersweet story about growing up different."

--The review--
The ambiguously-named Berry is the centre of this unusual coming-of-age story, where the focus shifts from music and growing up to altogether more sobering issues. Anders clearly knows her stuff when it comes to the music, displaying an impressive breadth of knowledge and appreciation thereof; and, as the book goes on, the denouement becomes so realistic that readers get the impression that Anders also knows a fair amount about many of the other topics raised in the novel. A few morsels of research quickly reveal that this is indeed the case: Anders, like her main character, identifies as a male to female transgendered person. Writing what you know, then, certainly applies here.

The way in which this novel's plot evolves is intriguing and suitably gradual: Berry goes from wanting to stay in a boy-like state merely in order to preserve his beautiful singing voice, but this simple desire accumulates further depth as he realises that in order to stay female-like in terms of his voice, this to an extent involves 'playing the game' a bit (so that the medical professionals will continue to give him the medication that he needs to achieve this, he also needs to play the role of a woman in terms of dressing in female clothing, although the breasts accorded to him by the medication are helpful in this regard too). The novel therefore centres decreasingly around music and more on questions of gender and identity, and where the transsexual and transgendered really belong. Should they use male or female toilets? Should they wear male or female clothes? And should Berry be allowed to remain in the boys' choir that he has always been part of, or will he be made to join the girls' choir instead?

The feeling that Anders knows what she is talking about and the realism with which she expresses this leads the reader to feel a great sense of understanding and empathy towards Berry and others like him. But this is not to say that the book is a hippy love-fest: rest assured, the changes that Berry undergoes, both physically and emotionally, wreak extreme trauma and argument between him and those he cares for. His semi-girlfriend, Lisa, provides a welcome force of balance in amongst all this confusion and angst. Additionally, some of the scenes in the novel are horrifying: with Berry's revulsion towards becoming a man comes some graphic scenes of self-mutilation. This is not for the faint-hearted and Anders jumps in with this relatively early in the book, making one's first encounter with her work a real baptism of fire.

Anders is already a famous face in the science fiction community due to her writing output elsewhere. However, her arresting prose in this fiction debut puts her up there with writers such as Chris Cleave as a significant talent of the past decade, and I have a feeling that we'll be hearing a lot more from her as the years roll on.

Other works by Charlie Anders
The Lazy Crossdresser (2002)
She's Such A Geek: Women Write About Science, Technology, and Other Nerdy Stuff (2006; with Annalee Newitz)

Girl Meets Boy (Ali Smith)

--The blurb--
"Girl meets boy. It's a story as old as time. But what happens when an old story meets a brand new set of circumstances? Ali Smith's re-mix of Ovid's most joyful metamorphosis is a story about the kind of fluidity that can't be bottled and sold. It is about girls and boys, girls and girls, love and transformation, a story of puns and doubles, reversals and revelations. Funny and fresh, poetic and political, Girl meets boy is a myth of metamorphosis for the modern world."

--The review--
Gender and sexuality are topics that are of perennial significance across the history of literature, with everyone from the Ancient Greeks to Caryl Churchill joining in. The Ancient Greeks, though (since I've picked on them, I might as well carry on), often only referred to the inversion of gender and sexuality in vague, metaphorical terms, with anything more overt, such as cross-dressing, being a specific means to an end (in Aristophanes' Women at the Thesmophoria, for instance, the men dress up, but only to get into a women-only event in order to eavesdrop on the female gossip). Shakespeare continues to use this device mainly only for direct trickery and deception (think of Twelfth Night and The Merchant of Venice to name just two plays where he does this). Modern literature, though, is perhaps getting less comic in its treatment of gender, sexuality, and role reversals thereof: Caryl Churchill's Cloud Nine is funny, but tragic in equal measure, and novels such as Charlie Anders' Choir Boy involve deeper contemplation of sexual identity than the superficial level of mere comedic trickery.

Ali Smith's latest attempt, Girl Meets Boy, also asks more serious questions about what we were and are, and if it really matters, updating the myth of Iphis with startling clarity. The novella's first line is arresting, and the first chapter abounds with contemporary references to television shows, which would normally irritate me, but in this case does not, possibly due to its more natural and relevant (rather than contrived and irrelevant) state. The story has momentum and the settings are realistic as well as being blackly funny. The person who changes everything in the story, Robin, is daring, adventurous, and yet altogether human (though admittedly there is something ethereal or otherworldly about the character too).

Smith is adept with words and is able to keep the reader's attention by being concise, thought-provoking and occasionally witty, bringing the narrative to a satisfying close. The quality of her work not only allows her to secure a place as one of the rising stars of contemporary literature, but this in tandem with her participation in the Canongate Myths series also means that her work is emblematic of the rejuvenation of classical legends in modern times, along with equally staunchly feminist authors such as Margaret Atwood and Jeanette Winterson (who are, perhaps unfairly, rather better known). She achieves her aims while successfully utilising the "write what you know" principle, but not in the lacklustre way of, for example, Alan Hollinghurst. Smith, in conjunction with her contemporaries, uses her work to show us that the way we talk about ourselves and our identities is something that matters, and with Smith and other authors only being at the genesis of explicit discussion of gender and sexuality (Winterson's groundbreaking Oranges are not the Only Fruit was only published in 1985, Churchill arguably being the trailblazer in 1979), we are perhaps at the beginning of a highly significant phase in literary genres.

Other works by Ali Smith
Like (1997)
Hotel World (2001)
The Accidental (2005)

The Wives of Bath (Susan Swan)

--The blurb--
"Mouse and Paulie, reluctant 14-year-old inmates of Bath Ladies College, are confronted by difficult questions. Why can't girls have muscles? Why don't boys cry? Gradually their secret life becomes a dangerous quest for the one small, vital thing that makes boys different from girls."
from www.amazon.co.uk

--The review--
This offering from the undeservedly little-known Susan Swan promises to deal with questions and conundrums relating to gender, which it explores intriguingly. As a bit of a gender specialist myself (my undergraduate dissertation talked about the representation of gender on the stage, and my postgraduate thesis took on grammatical gender in French), I unsurprisingly fell for this hook, line and sinker, not expecting to get a rollicking crime novel into the bargain. At the novel's centre is the sinister Paulie and her shy sidekick, Mouse Bradford. Without giving too much away, it somehow feels wrong to refer to 'her' sidekick, which in itself indicates that Swan addressed the notion of gender confusion successfully.

The narrative arc not only takes an intensive look at Paulie and Mouse's personalities, but also brings in a few other touching elements in the form of characters Tory, Miss Vaughan, and Mrs Peddie, though other characters, such as Mouse's father Morley, are a little underdeveloped (albeit perhaps intentionally). The nature of the crime committed by Paulie is revealed slowly and tantalisingly in juxtaposition with the various disturbing revelations about her psyche. Also starkly illustrated is the attitude towards gender confusion at the novel's time period (the 1960s) and how it differs from how transgendered people would be treated today - instead of being sent for rehabilitation and normalisation, the transgendered would receive appropriate counselling and medical treatment and operations. This element gives the novel the same appeal as Amanda Whittington's Be My Baby, which holds up a similar contrast in terms of how people are treated.

As well as the plot playing out fabulously, the settings were richly laid, with one being able to picture perfectly every piece of scenery, from the dank dormitories and the school grounds by night to the landscapes of Mouse's country residence. Extra details, such as Swan's power of disturbing description and the parallel sub-plot of the presidency of John F Kennedy (and Mouse's admiration of him). The only weakness present in The Wives of Bath is perhaps inherent in the novel's title: the connection was only made briefly at the novel's beginning and end and the complexity of the link made it even more necessary to have it taking a more central role in terms of having a more consistent background thread throughout the narrative.

While this book didn't incite in me any desire to see the film adaptation of it (Lost and Delirious), on the grounds that as usual it appears that the director has taken too many liberties with it, it did inspire a wish to read more of Susan Swan's work, and a hope that soon she will be better known outside of Canada.

Other works by Susan Swan
What Casanova Told Me (2004)
The Last of the Golden Girls (1989)
The Biggest Modern Woman In The World (1983)