A review by notwellread
Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg

5.0

What can I say? I’m afraid I can’t really express how I feel about this book – I feel a bit like Jess, wanting to express myself but never quite finding the words.

It’s important to remember how reductive it is to call this a ‘lesbian book’, or even a ‘trans lesbian’ book – like any other worthy discussion of a particular subject matter, it puts its main subject in the context of so much more. It’s obviously meant to defy categorisation (like Jess herself, and non-conformists like her). In Jess’ case, she discovers her own identity in the midst of the sea changes of 20th century US politics and culture, and Feinberg sows in a lot of unionist and socialist themes too (not a surprise if you know much about her). Although relatively old now, I think it’s aged so well because of the complexity and soundness of its exploration of the issues on a complex level (though one that ‘outsiders’ without first-hand experience can still grasp) and its recognitions of intersectionality. There’s also a crucial sense of hope combined with this – even when so relentlessly rejected by the rest of society, there are still ways to build up a hidden world underneath the surface.

I’ve seen some people feel the portrayal of the native American characters is a little reductive, so I’ve given this some consideration: in reality, I wonder how literally we’re supposed to take Jess’ view of them, since she may be mythologizing them as a separate group obviously more spiritual and more accepting than her own family (particularly at the beginning when she’s only relying on her memories by a small child). I think this view is reinforced at the end when

Spoiler

Ruth explains her background and it’s unclear if the man telling her uncle to accept her was really there or only a ghost

. As a wider theme, I think it serves us to remember that so much of the book is real (and clearly based on the author’s own experiences if you’ve heard any of her speeches), even when the odd detail seems a little more difficult to believe and is probably indicative of where she took more creative license:

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some of the POC characters seem to have a conglomeration of traits ‘signature’ to these groups, and Jess’ affair with Annie comes to mind too

, which makes sense as the novel is not a memoir, and is not intended to be read as fully autobiographical. In all, I would argue that this question about the novel needs to be phrased more carefully: by my judgement, its contents are completely ‘true’, even if its events are not entirely ‘real’.

I am almost tempted to propose this as the Great American Novel – it may seem like an odd choice given the rather blunt writing style (which some people complain about, but I think reflects the working-class sensibilities of the protagonist, and which you can clearly see develops and becomes more complex as Jess becomes older and more educated), but if other works that focus on a particular ‘type’ of person (like Moby-Dick and Toni Morrison’s Beloved) can still be put to consideration then I think a queer novel deserves a place too. In reality, it’s clear no one novel can really encompass ‘American-ness’, but this would support the idea that multiple novels should be included to constitute a full picture of the American experience.

In fact, I think comparing it to Beloved may actually be apt because they both deal with American culture and its prejudices from the perspective of a minority outsider, American but not recognised as a fully legitimate citizen at the same time, and I would argue that they therefore take a more truthful approach to American culture than more idyllic views like Huckleberry Finn (even where they make room for criticism too). Since I already love the author, I was and am a little biased towards the book, but I also felt relieved that it met my already high expectations – for me, there’s always the worry that I’ll admire a particular author but then find, upon reading their actual works, that they won’t hold up, but not here.

I feel, finally, that I have to talk about the emotional impact of the novel on me (even where I feel a little embarrassed). I will admit there was a lot of crying on my end, which I don’t usually do while reading. My experience doesn’t really mirror Jess’ that closely in practical terms, but I think almost any queer person could emphasise with her, and the feelings of isolation that permeate the novel are almost universally recognisable. At the same time, I think it’s important for a modern reader to take a step back and remember how much progress has been made since (as the book itself recognises –

Spoiler

although Jess and the other characters suffer, and although the original ‘cast’ largely go their separate ways, it’s made clear from the successor movements acknowledged that their efforts were not all for naught

). The cruelty and brutality of Jess’ experience are a part of life that must be accepted and can’t be reversed, but they don’t encompass all of life as she finds beauty despite her struggle to survive. We should remember that Feinberg was right to point out in the afterword that this particularly story isn’t fully over: there’s a persistent issue of homophobia and transphobia not being taken seriously (for which I think books like this are an ideal antidote). As she says there, ‘This is the worst of times; this is the best of times – it will be what we make of it.’ The erasure of these issues can be just as damaging as explicit aggression towards them, and in many ways the fight against injustice is, and always must be, ongoing.