When told to take the politics out of her Guardian blog Juliet Jacques comments how the self is always political. And I agree. Who we are and how our bodies experience the space around us is always political. In this memoir the reader is invited to walk alongside Juliet as she transitions. She blends the personal, political and the historical in an accessible read– I say this because some academia can exclude younger or dyslexic readers.

It is a tragic– scenarios where she was attacked or called names– yet empowering– the strength she always had in herself and her friendships– story.

I liked the epilogue because is made me think about my relationship to society, capitalism especially. And it was a fun way to end her story. It also stamped her understanding of her own writing and it's process.

A book for any one who has ever felt like an outsider in this body we call life.

Part of me feels it's unfair to review memoirs with star ratings: memoirs are someone's life experience, so who am I to say "meh, not enough social porn for me to salivate over - 2 stars"? Also, many memoirs are written by folk who may not be writers, and it shows, but the subject matter they need to get out of their system is worth 5 stars to learn about!
This all is to say that my 3 stars is a noncommittal urging: reading about the ups and downs of a person going through sex reassignment surgery should be required reading for young people so that nobody grows up hateful and not understanding why this is important. Jacques doesn't steer clear from unspoken burning questions that cis people may have.
At the same time, the 3 stars are there because I struggled to read through, mostly because Juliet Jacques's writing just wasn't a style I enjoy to read. There's also quite a lot of talk about soccer and although I grew up watching Premier League on Saturdays, my eyes still glazed over.
With that said, I know Juliet Jacques has a long career as a journalist, so I am looking forward to going through the archives of her shorter-form writing on the same subject.

Merged review:

Part of me feels it's unfair to review memoirs with star ratings: memoirs are someone's life experience, so who am I to say "meh, not enough social porn for me to salivate over - 2 stars"? Also, many memoirs are written by folk who may not be writers, and it shows, but the subject matter they need to get out of their system is worth 5 stars to learn about!
This all is to say that my 3 stars is a noncommittal urging: reading about the ups and downs of a person going through sex reassignment surgery should be required reading for young people so that nobody grows up hateful and not understanding why this is important. Jacques doesn't steer clear from unspoken burning questions that cis people may have.
At the same time, the 3 stars are there because I struggled to read through, mostly because Juliet Jacques's writing just wasn't a style I enjoy to read. There's also quite a lot of talk about soccer and although I grew up watching Premier League on Saturdays, my eyes still glazed over.
With that said, I know Juliet Jacques has a long career as a journalist, so I am looking forward to going through the archives of her shorter-form writing on the same subject.

So many books about trans individuals are a) written by cis people, b) focus on transition as the only viable storyline in a trans person's life, or both a & b.

Juliet is a fantastic writer. This book felt like a conversation with an intimate friend - colloquial, friendly, and inclusive of life beyond the scope of transition. In the epilogue, she expresses that she didn't want the entire arc of her book to be surgery - she has succeeded magnificently at this.

This should be on everyone's to-read list. It made me laugh, it made me cry, and it gave me hope for the future of trans representation in popular media.

I initially found this book a bit of a trudge, but I kept going, and I'm glad I did. The narrative, particularly in the first half, lingers on the mundane details of everyday life a little too much for me. But I understand the intention behind this, to offer a representation of a life that is ordinary in so many ways, as lives of trans people are so often sensationalised, weaponised, and even their right to exist called into question.

It is no real surprise that it is at the point in the book when Juliet starts to live as a woman in all spheres of her life that the prose really starts to come alive, despite all of the difficulties associated with coming out. The veil is lifted.

The tension between private and public, and the personal and political is palpable throughout. The book is essentially a bildungsroman, charting Jacques' gradual personal revolution, but it is impossible for her to escape the social, political and historical context of her transition. Her decision to write about her personal experience and put it in the public sphere is political in itself, and is laudable.

Despite my misgivings about the prose style, this book is important. As a cis reader, who aspires to be a fully inclusive and intersectional feminist, it lead me to a better understanding of the trans experience (if there is such a thing), and gave me more ammunition for pushing back against that vile strand of feminism that excludes trans people.

Please read it.