Transmasculine Memoirs & Pandemic Reading Lists

It’s June, and the world continues to bravely soldier on in the fight against COVID-19. Maybe, in that time since the initial lockdown, you have committed to completing that book-list that you made, got a digital library card, or even joined a Zoom book club. The options are endless, and bookworms around the globe are uniting.

Whether you spend the day watching Tiger King or making your way through the latest summer novel, we can cross another day off the calendar. And since the country went into lockdown in March, we’re all spending more time browsing Netflix titles or burying our faces in a new book.

There’s no better time to pay attention to what we’re all indulging in.

The movies we watch, the news that we tune into, and the books we read remind us that the words we consume can hold a special power over us. Sure, binging an entire series or speeding through a novel can take our mind off current events for a little while, but this isn’t simply a distraction; it’s self-preservation.

Immersing ourselves within a new story doesn’t always mean we want to escape. By turning to new series and new books, we get to make connections across the queer community, all from the comfort of our couches.

At the heart of this pandemic, people share their experiences, whether that be through media posts, articles, or new docuseries. While this was true of social media pre-COVID, our news feeds have drastically changed. The number of extravagant vacation photos has significantly decreased. Yes, we’re all still pining for the chance to visit somewhere (anywhere) that is beautiful, filled with delicious food, and virus-free.

Related article: Five Books to get you Through Quarantine 

But, in our new, COVID world, there are more book clubs, less adventurous photo sharing; more movie recommendations, less “look at this amazing time I’m having!” Facebook albums. And this is changing how we interact with others—both online and off. In the months that have passed, there’s been a new commitment to language.

This renaissance of words feels more engaging than the filtered photos we have grown used to. We’re not being pretentious. We’re rediscovering how much we need art in our lives.

For the time being, this trend appears here to say. So, as we continue to navigate through the pandemic, we can settle into our 21st-century literature of choice. We may not have Michelangelo, but we did get a finale of Drag Race, Harry Style’s “Watermelon Sugar,” AND a new Lady Gaga album—which all come pretty close.

If you’re looking for something new to read after going through your trusted paperbacks and our latest pick of books to get you through quarantine, then look no further.

Hot off the press is Daniel Mallory Ortberg’s latest book, Something That May Shock and Discredit You. Published in February, Ortberg’s work carefully weaves together pop culture, niche references, and the complexities of gender transition.

In doing so, he captures the reality that we’re living in an age when who we are—and who we become—is tied up with our culture’s media.

And the chapters within this book make the case that queer representation can be found in a constellation of places, with two chapters being devoted to discussing Captain Kirk from Star Trek and Duckie from Pretty in Pink as beautiful lesbians, sentiments explained with both touching sincerity and wit. Next up on my quarantine binge list: all of John Hughes’s movies.

The book is a jumble of genres including the author’s memoir, cultural odes, and proclamation of faith. The pages detail his journey through childhood memories, hormone therapy, top surgery, and his reasons for transitioning, which include: “Want to upset good-looking ex. Want to replace good-looking ex. Bored of existing wardrobe, looking for excuse to buy all-new clothes that don’t fit in a new way.”

Resonating with the culture right now, this book is deeply aware of how the media affects our lives and our bodies, and Ortberg makes the reader feel at home through references they are bound to have encountered before, possibly in a high school English class or in an early-aughts film (see chapter titled: “On Wednesday We Mean Girls Wore Pink”). The writing does not shy away from combining classic literature with our culture’s guilty pleasures.

By doing so, Ortberg reminds us that engaging in stories—spoken or written—is incredibly humbling. This is why storytelling matters. Speakers get to share their words; whether they be intimate secrets or tales of fictional lands, listeners have the chance to gain insight into lives that may be completely different from their own, and, hopefully, we all learn something along the way.

So, as we continue to preserve the books and films that have changed us over the year, let’s also extend support to the queer writers who are providing us with ongoing representation in our new COVID-world.