Torrey Peters’ buzzy new novel, Detransition, Baby, reclaims the rare phenomenon of detransition, a tool used by transphobes to question the legitimacy of transitioning in the first place. Peters’ novel includes a character, named Ames, who has detransitioned, not because he had made a mistake transitioning to living as a female, or because he doesn’t feel like he is a woman, but because it was so difficult to live as one. Before detransitioning, Ames (then Amy), was dating Reese, a trans woman who wanted to start a family with Amy, to have children and build a full life together. But Amy and Reese broke up when Amy detransitioned, and now Ames is carrying on an affair with his boss Katrina, whom he impregnates accidentally, not realizing he was still fertile. The problem is that Ames never told Katrina about his transition in the first place, which is not an ethical error, he has no responsibility to disclose that to anyone, but he is forced to tell her his situation when faced with the possibility of fatherhood, something he is not fully comfortable with. Katrina reacts poorly, mostly because she is surprised and feels betrayed by Ames’ refusal to disclose this part of himself. Katrina herself is going through a reinvention, she has divorced her husband after having a miscarriage and feeling a lack of sadness at the loss of her child, which made her realize that the traditional motherhood and straight cisgender family structure may not be for her.
Ames decides to propose an idea to Katrina: if she wants to keep the child, he is not comfortable acting as the father, but he could invite Reese into the equation, making their family a sort of queer triad that would allow Ames the freedom from this traditional masculine role. This situation would also give Reese a child, something that she has wanted for a long time, something she knows in her bones that she has a strong instinct for, and feels to be an integrable part of her womanhood. Both Katrina and Reese are suspect of the idea at the beginning, but then gradually become open to exploring as the novel progresses. Reese and Katrina form a really beautiful bond, in which Reese recognizes Katrina’s status as a divorced woman as their common ground. She talks about divorce as a “transition story”, and discusses her affinity for divorced women “who have seen how the narratives given to them since girlhood have failed them, and who know there is nothing to replace it all. But who still have to move forward without investing in new illusions or turning bitter—all with no plan to guide them. That’s as close to a trans woman as you can get. Divorced women are the only people who know anything like what I know.” As the three characters navigate the possible arrangement, each one learns more about themselves and how they see their place in the world.
In an interview with Vulture, Peters says of the novel’s excellent title, “The comma is a knife’s edge. If you could just find your way to having a baby and finding motherhood, you would be legitimate, or if you could just figure out how to live as a man and detransition, you’d be okay…The hard part is you’re stuck. That was the split in my psyche for a long time.” The comma is the divide between Reese and Ames, who sit on opposite sides of the dichotomy that Peters has outlined. The difference between the two approaches is that Reese sees motherhood as a way to more fully confirm her womanhood, while Ames’ detransition was not an effort to confirm his masculinity, but an effort to find stability and have a viable future, which in a way is what Reese is looking for as well. The novel allows these two characters to navigate the divide represented by that comma, which positions Katrina and her baby in the middle of them. Ames needs Reese to give him the freedom to break out of the traditional father role, one that he is not comfortable occupying, and to bring balance to his and Katrina’s family dynamic. Reese needs Katrina and Ames’ biological child to fulfill her dream of motherhood, and Katrina needs Ames and Reese to break her out of the “heteronormative” domestic mother role that she fears. Watching these three characters navigate their desires in this witty comedy of manners is at once hilarious, heartbreaking, and thought provoking. Peters manages to draw out each of her characters’ most fascinating elements, forcing the characters and the reader into layers of introspection.
What felt so refreshing to me about this novel was Peter’s resistance to pen a novel that generalizes or universalizes the story of trans women. So often with marginalized groups, it happens that the few stories that are able to see the light are forced to speak for the entirety of their community’s experience. We’ve seen this with black and brown stories and queer stories alike, and especially considering the rarity of novels centered on trans women, Peter’s ability to craft lived-in and fascinating characters that don’t have to speak for all trans women is such a gift to her readers. She has chosen to focus on specific experiences within the community: the longing for motherhood and the concept of detransition, both of which are very specifically relevant to her character’s concept of self determination and identity. The characters are not political tools, or perfect trans people who have moral and ethical high ground over the world around them, but simply humans, who deserve our attention and respect just because they are humans. Peters has placed a trans woman, a divorced woman, and a detransitioned man at the center of this comedy of manners that illuminates different pieces of each character’s humanity and interaction with the world around them in fascinating ways.
Detransition, Baby is populated by some of the most well-crafted and unforgettable characters that I’ve encountered in a long time. Reese’s wit and casually incisive worldview is fascinating to read, and her assessments of the other characters and their interactions provide many of the novel’s most enjoyable passages. There is a brilliant scene in which Reese describes attending the various funerals of trans women in the community with what seems like callousness, calling them “notable social events of a season”, then upon attending the funerals and hearing a single detail about the deceased, a well of grief is opened inside her. It feels so human, as Reese has been forced to harden herself against the early deaths that are unfortunately so common in her community, but her grief mostly lies in the loss of the mundane details, or the chance at a normal future. Peters is able to put her finger on Reese’s chief concern in that moment: how can she build a stable future for herself as a woman, filled with common pleasures like romance and motherhood, despite the myriad obstacles in her way.
This novel weaves together the three lives of Reese, Ames, and Katrina, all who find themselves at different places in their lives, each imagining a path into the future while questioning their place in the present. Reese is of course comfortable in her life as a trans woman, but longs for motherhood, a building block of unquestionable womanhood, while Ames has detransitioned not because he is not a woman or made a mistake in living as a woman, but because life as a trans woman was so punishing, and Katrina’s rejection of “heteronormativity” following her divorce and miscarriage have thrown her off the path she had previously imagined herself on. Peters does not posit queerness as a solution to all her character’s problems, and Reese is correct in her concern that Katrina may misconstrue it that way, because in fact queerness is really complicated, and involves thorny issues and difficult identity questions. Peters leans into the complicated nature of trans women’s lives, focusing on really specific and nuanced parts of their lived experience, and instead of speaking for all trans women, she argues for the variedness of the trans woman’s experience. This novel is witty and propulsive, and I think cis and trans readers alike will fall in love with these complicated characters and find points of recognition in their experiences. As a reader, I’m looking forward to more novels that bravely explore the everyday concerns of queer people like Peters has so brilliantly done here.
Further Reading: Peters has self-published two novellas, Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones, and The Masker, both of which also feature charismatic trans heroines. If you enjoyed this novel’s wit and mesmerizing characters, check out anything by Carmen Maria Machado or Emma Cline.