Books like Neo-/Victorian Biographilia and James Miranda Barry — picked by fans

If you’re wondering in practical ways how to do trans history, Manion’s book is a great place to start. It takes one of the categories that preceded a transgender identity (the name typically given to people affirmed female at birth who identified as men and married women) and reimagines how eighteenth- and nineteenth-century lives might look with the benefit of the tools of our modern politics. The book is boldly inclusive, resisting deciding ahead of time how the category should be defined and who should be ruled in or out. Manion is also a role model in respecting the ambiguities of the past, mostly using neutral pronouns and offering non-judgmental speculations about what these subjects and their partners might have thought at key moments in their courageous and inspiring lives. 

This is a great place to begin thinking about trans history. Feinberg, who died in 2014, crisscrossed the line between butch lesbian and trans man and was not particular about what pronouns they preferred. In that spirit of inclusiveness, some readers might find her book outdated or too loose in some of the people it includes—any book that ranges from Joan of Arc to NBA star Rodman is covering a lot of ground, but what’s less visible from that subtitle is the work Feinberg has done in crosscultural, anthropological, and comparative mythology studies. What results is a daring and provocative re-reading of world history that puts gender nonconformity at the center, and a stirring call to activism and solidarity that is if anything more needed since its original publication.

Nobody has done more than Stryker to document the modern history of trans people or to fashion trans studies into an academic field. Transgender History is a work of substantial scholarship and also an accessible introduction to the field and the issues on which it’s centered. Each chapter of this short-ish book is really valuable, whether it’s the opening that explains important terms and concepts or the final one assessing what Time declared the “transgender tipping point” in 2014. Stryker is a historian of twentieth-century America, so that’s the focus of her central chapter documenting a century of trans history. Understanding that early history is crucial for the liberatory gains and backlashes that follow, and Transgender History concludes with resources that can help turn its readers into informed and committed activists.

As a parent (and a researcher), I’m so happy this book exists! It’s the best response to the argument that trans kids are new and, therefore, how we raise them is dangerously experimental. Where Gill-Peterson finds such kids historically is mainly in medical archives, where treatments were directed mostly at intersex children, many of whom we’d see as trans. She shows a fascination with the “plasticity” of the body in the early twentieth century, although predictably, possibilities for transforming bodies were viewed differently across racial lines. The best counter to conservative attacks, though, is his research into Val, a 1920s teen in rural Wisconsin who went to school as the gender she affirmed and had negotiated agreements about things like which bathroom she could use, over which we’re fighting a century later!

This superb biography is an engrossing account of the mysterious title surgeon and the doctor’s fascinating world. James Miranda Barry joined the British Army in 1813 as a regimental surgeon and served in colonial posts for the next fifty years. But Barry had been born Margaret Bulkley, an anatomical female—a surprise revealed after the doctor’s death.

Was Barry’s masquerade strategic, the doctor’s only route to a medical career? Was Barry a transgender person? I wondered if the “truth” would remain a mystery. Rachel Holmes persuaded me that the probable answer lies in a document “gathering dust” in Edinburgh’s medical school archives, a revelation she saves for the last chapter. 

Who doesn’t love a good cyberpunk novel? Well, I love them! And this is a good one! It depicts a dark and gritty 21st century sci-fi future, which is fine, but now that we are actually in the 21st century and approaching some of the technology featured in the book, it makes it now all the more interesting.

With nanotechnology, artificial intelligence, and an interactive book for learning (which now we’d just call a tablet like an iPad), it really makes you wonder if we are actually heading for the world of the book. 

You might believe that I chose this book solely based on the title.

I can’t deny finding the idea of having the cover out and actively reading it in front of the kind of people wanting to ban LGBTQ+ books is a tantalizing one. That said, the real reason I chose this book is it is a helpful guide to the LGBTQ+ community that uses inclusive language and describes the different ways people identify with copious amounts of humor and quotes from members of the community.

It has important information about a wide variety of topics that I wish were around in an easy-to-read format when I was younger. There are frank sex education discussions in this book, which is vital information to fill in the gaps in sex education in most schools. I have this one saved for when the younger members of my family are ready to start… show more.

KB Brookins’ book is one of the most dynamic memoirs I’ve read in a long time.

Brookins describes a coming of age at the intersection of multiple overlapping—and at times conflicting—identities: as transgender and nonbinary, as a Black American, as a Texan, as an adoptee raised in a religious household, and many more. Their story of navigating a complicated, and at times painful, childhood and adolescence to grow into the accomplished writer, poet, and artist they are will resonate with anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong.

A critical component of the gender equality booklist is trans rights, which is why I recommend this autobiography. I hesitate to say too much about it—because I just think the best thing to do is dive in and read this for yourself. I will say that the words Chloe chooses and the way she talks about her own transition—it was surprising, and heartbreaking, and insightful, and beautiful—all at the same time.

Chloe has also become a friend of mine, and I can say that she is every bit as tenacious and lovable in person as she is on the page. I often give this book as a gift to people who are thinking of, in the middle of, or are supporting a loved one through a gender transition. 

Parrotfish is a very early and stunning YA about what it is for a pre-pubescent child to transition from a girl to a boy written by a woman who prepared for this by learning as much as possible from the experiences of a close transgender friend. Because of these efforts, the problems faced by such young people and their families are sensitively dealt with in this story of Gabe's heartwrenching journey which, at times, is also hilarious. Instructive as well as entertaining, it gently schools the reader in compassion and understanding for anyone who chooses to make such a difficult journey. This was my first in-depth view of the difficulties and yearnings of a transgender youth.