“Redefining Realness” by Janet Mock

If you want to be a successful ally to trans people, then the first step is to educate yourself. And one of the best ways to go about doing that is to read their stories and acknowledge their hardships. Mock’s story is honest and powerful, and told in such a way where she includes the stories of those around her, noting where her experiences aren’t typical of the greater trans community.

Providing the context to her story is crucial, as right now we need more intersectionality in our portrayal of LGBTQ+ community. Many high-profile trans people are white and upper-class, which unintentionally erases the stories of anyone who does not fit that description. Mock is of mixed-race, and grew up without that much money. Even so, she still acknowledges that there are many trans youths that did not have a supportive family like she did, and cites statistics frequently.

She also critiques our treatment of trans individuals in contemporary society. Valuing those who “pass” more than those who do not look cis-gender (cis refers to those that identify with the gender they were assigned at birth) creates a notion that trans individuals are trying to pretend to be something they are not. This is a false notion, since there is no one way to be a woman and no one way to express that identity. She also discusses how the burden of “coming out” and letting everyone know that you are trans is often heaped on the trans individual, again seen as living a lie, and people are angry when they find out that they have been lied to. But this is ridiculous, trans people are just trying to live their lives, they are not responsible for telling their life’s story to everyone that they meet.

In all honestly, this is one of the most eye-opening books that I’ve read. Mock discusses being trans, female, mixed-race, sex workers, and many other things through her tale. Her pathway is full of hope and lessons that anyone can learn and grow from. Now, more than ever, we need to listen to those members of marginalized communities (such as trans people) that can make themselves heard and support them through whatever means we can. Because the government certainly isn’t.

“The Year of Magical Thinking” by Joan Didion

Towards the end of 2003, Didion’s daughter caught a flu that then turned into a coma. While she was still under, her husband John died suddenly at the dinner table. Her daughter recovered, but almost immediately after had to go back in for surgery. This is an account of that year, and Didion’s attempt to make some sense out of it.

This book is clearly written by a writer. Which sounds like an obvious statement, but what I mean is that Didion clearly loves reading and writing, and it shows here. There are numerous references to literary works that discuss death and grieving afterwards. Her writing also flows easily, as though this was a stream of her thoughts over the year. The sections don’t flow chronologically, but there are underlying themes that connect the chapters.

There are many single lines of a few texts that repeatedly are highlighted to demonstrate these themes. One good example is Gawain predicting his own death, to connect anecdotes about how Didion thought her husband must have known about his imminent demise. Or how the family continually says to each other “more than one more day” to express their love.

It’s an honest and beautiful depiction of what it is like to lose someone after having been close to them for years. You watch Didion’s struggles to continue with her life, and the challenges she faced within her head and out of it. I might check out her and her husband’s other works now, they are probably as wonderfully written as this is.

“Demonosity” by Amanda Ashby

This is another young adult novel with an asexual character (similar to “Guardian of the Dead”). It’s definitely not as well-written as the other book, there were some plot points that I could see coming, and the characters were maybe not as believable. But overall, still an enjoyable read.

In terms of the characters, Nash is probably the best one, since the others are kind of cookie cutter archetypes. He’s asexual, and loves old books about Renaissance times. Both he and the asexual character from “Guardian of the Dead” seem to fall into the same trope of “really attractive male who’s not interested” which bugs me a little bit. First of all, this equates asexuality with aromanticism, and there are also many more asexual narratives out there! But since they are both represented well, I can’t really complain about them otherwise.

For the other characters, yeah they tend to fall into tropes. There are some exceptions, such as Celeste, (by far the best plot point involves her reversing a trope) but overall they seem pretty generic. Such as the new, hot boy turning out to be involved in everything mysterious happening. I mean, of course.

The plot is a little out there, some things could have used deeper clarification. Such as the fact that the twins from fourteenth century France are actually like 15 years old. I assumed that they were adults until love and relationships got involved and after that was pretty shocked. And Nash just seemed to accept Cassidy’s explanation for things without questioning them, which seemed out of character for such a bookworm. A little more work could have been done there.

Having said all that, the ending decision does kind of make up for it. Not going to spoil it, but there is a recurring theme where Cassidy cannot make a decision about anything small. And that turns out to her advantage. It’s an unconventional ending, and one that redeems the story.

It’s a young adult novel, a little on the typical side. But it has it’s redeeming qualities, one of which being that you genuinely like the characters despite (or because of) the archetypes being used. Give it a try if you want an easier read.

“We Should All Be Feminists” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This book (or extended essay really, it’s very short) is based on a TEDx Talk that the author gave (find here), and the two are pretty similar. I had no idea that this started as a TED Talk, give it a watch if you can’t find a copy of the book anywhere. One thing to note is that this talk was at a conference about specifically African topics, and she uses that context many times.

This is a very powerful work, Adichie discusses many aspects of feminism including its stigma and effects on both men and women. All of her points are illustrated with anecdotes from her life, giving it a personal feel. She also goes over possible objections to feminism, and why they are not relevant or accurate.

At its core this is a call to action, for both men and women. Ultimately, men are hurt by masochism as well, and unless more men start thinking about gender and how it affects those hurt by it, we probably won’t get anywhere. (I hate to say it, but that’s probably the truth. We need men to be more on board with feminism and realize when inequality is present instead of just dismissing it.) This work is so short I finished it in one sitting, therefore everyone out there has the time for it as well. Read it!

“The Emperor of all Maladies: A Biography of Cancer” by Siddhartha Mukherjee

I wasn’t totally sure what to expect from this book. It was recommended to me by a friend who knew that I was interested in medicine and diseases, but I couldn’t tell whether it would be a history, medicine, biographic, scientific, or a memoir. Somehow, it’s a combination of all of those categories.

Mukherjee starts by introducing the reader to one of his patients, Carla. She develops leukemia as an adult, and her story is interwoven through the history of cancer as the author shows its path throughout human history. Mukherjee starts at the very beginning, with the mention of cancer in an Ancient Egyptian scroll. From there, he traces the documentation of it onwards, through the ancient world, the progression of surgery, to chemotherapy, and into the modern day.

The combination of showing the historical and scientific progression of cancer on one hand, and the patients the author has personally treated on the other, makes the work both universal and deeply intimate. We know as readers that the author knows what he’s talking about, because he has seen much of it first-hand. He even hunted down a few key patients and physicians to interview them for this work.

Mukherjee masterfully takes complex biological concepts and breaks them down for the average reader, so all of his thoughts are easily discernable. It is always a challenge when writing about science to not simplify so much as to make the concepts inaccurate, but he does a good job of putting more nit-picky qualifiers within the footnotes. This keeps the clarity intact for readers, but also maintains the accuracy of the text.

What I was most surprised about was the depth of literary thought within this book. Mukherjee takes cancer apart historically, but then also puts it into context of the mindset towards cancer of the age. Symbolically, cancer can be pretty powerful. Mukherjee discusses how this disease is a mutation of our normal cells, and therefore is the body turned against itself. It has come to represent the modern age in a similar way to how TB represented the Victorian Era, and is also compared to the AIDS epidemic in the 80s. Mukherjee involves quite a bit of depth in his analysis of the social and symbolic significance of this disease, where I expected a drier historical or scientific approach.

The result is that this is a very unique and powerful book. Even if you know nothing of cancer, you can easily keep up with the scientific developments as they are explained here. Or if you know quite a bit of the science, you can gain from the historical context. Many different aspects of the disease are illuminated here, all succinctly and clearly. I would highly recommend giving it a read!