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For Angel H: Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

A little while ago, I mentioned that I was reading Helen Oyeyemi’s Boy, Snow, Bird, on an open thread, a really interesting retelling of the Snow White fairy tale by a Nigerian-British novelist that engages issues of race in a way that very few fairy-tale retellings do (“The Glass Bottle Trick” by Nalo Hopkinson is a notable exception, and I know there are others).  Angel H. posted and noted that she had read reviews saying the novel was transphobic–I was confused, because I was halfway through the book and there didn’t seem to be any trans-relevant content at all, but I promised that I would respond when I was done.

The thing is, there is no way for me to talk about this book with respect to race or trans-ness, without giving away some major spoilers, so please only read past the jump cut if you’re OK with that.

OK?

Spoilers, I really mean it.

OK, here we go.

I really love about 90% of this book, and then, to my mind, it all falls apart in the final chapter, which is, not coincidentally, where there is a big trans-related revelation.  I’m not a fan of flinging in some major “surprise, so-and-so is trans!” as a plot twist at the end without any prior or subsequent consideration of what that means in general, and I really think it’s not only unearned here, but doesn’t do what Oyeyemi thinks it does (or so I assume–I assume from the fact that it’s in the final chapter and seems to trigger some kind of reconciliation among Boy, the stepmother, Snow, the stepdaughter, and Bird, Boy’s daughter and Snow’s sister, that it’s meant to explain some emotional issues, open up the potential for a new chapter in their lives, generally be a kind of resolution, and I think it fails utterly).  I definitely think it’s an artistic failure.

And yeah, I can see how it’s transphobic as well.  For me, the transphobia is less glaring than the artistic failure, no doubt in large part due to cis privilege and in small part due to the fact that I just don’t buy the revelation, don’t see it as relevant to the story, and on a fundamental level think it’s kind of bullshit, so it’s hard for me to see it as a real thing.

Let me give you a spoiler-iffic rundown.  In 1953 or so, at 18, Boy Novak runs away from her very, very abusive ratcatcher father,  on the Lower East Side of Manhattan (they’re not Jewish, but he is Hungarian) and winds up in a New England town.  There she stays in a boarding house for a while and does various odd jobs, making friends and doing odd jobs.  She meets Arturo, a local jewelry-maker, and after a beautifully drawn series of interactions, marries him, although she does not know if she loves him.  She does love his 7-year-old daughter, Snow.  Snow is preternaturally beautiful and angelic, and is the darling of her three grandparents, who live next door.  After a year or so, Boy gives birth to a daughter who is very clearly of black descent, and it comes out that Arturo’s family has been passing for white, and is so committed to doing so that his parents disowned a daughter who could not pass and sent her away (it annoys me that we don’t find this out until about a third of the way through the book, and I think it is supposed to be a revelation, but the American edition gives this plot point away in the blurb).  It also becomes clear that part of the reason for the grandparents’ adoration of Snow is that she can pass almost perfectly.  After the birth of her daughter, Boy begins to resent Snow and the love her grandparents have for her, as their internalized racism cause them to reject their other granddaughter, who cannot pass.  Boy sends Snow away to Boston to live with her aunt, the disowned daughter, and uncle, transforming her childhood utterly.

Snow is deeply hurt–she had adored Boy, thinking of her as a fairy-tale princess and doesn’t understand why she’s been sent away from her stepmother, her beloved father, the sister she loves, and her adoring grandparents.  Eventually she and Bird get back in touch when Bird is around 10, and Snow, along with the aunt and uncle, Clara and John, come home for Thanksgiving.

During their visit, Frank stalks Boy and Bird, corners Bird, and coerces her into having lunch with him.  He is appalled to learn that this black child is Boy’s daughter, tells her that her mother is “evil” (Boy is certainly fucked up, but no, not evil), and is run out of town by Arturo, who knows all about his abuse and is having none of it, thank you very much.

In the final chapter, Mia, a friend of Boy’s from the boarding house, who has become a journalist, meets with Boy.  She has been looking into Boy’s family for a story she wanted to write and discovers that Frank Novak was born Frances Novak, and had been a a bright and charismatic young lesbian (in this version of trans-ness, Frances had identified firmly as a woman, as far as we know, up until the event I’m about to speak of) who made her way from working-class roots to doing a PhD in psychology at Columbia when she is raped by a fellow student.  She finds herself traumatized and pregnant, and begins seeing a man in the mirror, and within months has dropped out of sight of all those who had known her and become Frank the ratcatcher.  So, you can see the transphobic elements here, I think: trans-ness is the result of a trauma, and the trans-parent is evil and abusive.

This revelation is somehow supposed to be a major thing for Boy, and I’m not convinced that the novel doesn’t mean us to agree.  Boy, however, is convinced that if she can just go back to her father and coax him into being her mother “again,” all will somehow be well.  At which point, I say what?  Who gives a fuck?  This asshole beat you into unconsciousness several times, tried to drown you, and at one point, drugged you, tied you up, and almost had a starving rat eat through your face so that your boyfriend would no longer find you beautiful.  He stalked you, rejected your daughter out of racism, and told her you were evil.  Who gives a flying fuck what genitals he has?  If this had been presented as Boy’s desperate need for parental love and approval after all these years, something that had been motivating her in her rejection of Snow, part of an ongoing search for a mother who could have protected her from her father’s abuse, it would make psychological sense to me.  But I don’t see that here.  Boy wonders in a couple sentences in the beginning what kind of mother would’ve left her with Frank, but that’s it.  And it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with her relationships with Snow or Bird.  Anyway, Boy takes Snow and Bird with her, and they get into the car to go back to NYC and find Frank and somehow “bring back” Boy’s “mother.”

The novel would’ve been so much better off without this nonsense.  It adds nothing.  It plays on transphobic tropes.  And it has nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of the novel.  This novel needed to resolve the relationships among Bird, Snow, and Boy.  It needed to explain why Arturo allowed Boy to send his older daughter away for a decade.

But I can’t not recommend the book, either.  Up until that last chapter, it’s really interesting and thoughtful.  I find what it does with race fascinating.  The relationships among the women are fascinating and full of misunderstanding.  It’s very well written.  Just skip the last chapter.


21 thoughts on For Angel H: Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

  1. I was very curious to see what you thought after finishing the book, because after Angel H. raised the question I looked up a number of discussions of the book’s transphobia. (I didn’t care about the spoilers, because there’s no chance I’ll ever read the book.) A lot of people had the same reaction you did: great book until the trans revelation ruins the ending, which is completely and utterly transphobic in every way you could think of.

    Some people — naturally! — tried to refute the accusations of transphobia by arguing that, well, Frank isn’t “really” trans. And the author didn’t mean to be transphobic.

    Sure.

    I don’t buy this argument any more than I buy the argument that Silence of the Lambs isn’t transphobic because the author states that the skin-wearing character isn’t “really” transsexual. Although in that case, at least the author tried expressly to avoid accusations of transphobia by making that claim. Here, the author was completely clueless.

    1. Re-reading this post, I realize that I spent far more time discussing why the transphobic plot turn failed artistically than condemning its transphobia. I’m really sorry. I should have made sure to unequivocally name it and condemn it–it’s transphobic and stupid. I think I got too wrapped up in looking at this book on a compositional level instead of really analyzing the transphobia. I’m sorry to anybody who felt unhappy about that.

      I think that the transphobia and the artistic failure are related, though, insofar as transphobic/racist/misogynist/homophobic stereotypes are cliches, cliches that are particularly harmful. Using harmful cliches in writing is, of course, a bullshit thing to do morally. But it’s also lazy–it means that as a writer, you’ve turned your brain off and just gone to the dominant ideological default instead of constructing a thought-out character and seeing how that character affects and is affected by the events of the story. I think that’s what happened here–Oyeyemi defaulted to this transphobic stereotype, and thought nothing more had to be explained, and that the story was done and dusted with all the fucked-upness settled and explained and “hope” for the future. If she had decided to make Frank trans, revealed it halfway through the novel, and spent the second half exploring the effects of our society on Frank and Frank’s effects on the people around him, like she did vis-a-vis race, we’d have instead a thoughtful consideration of trans-ness, and a better piece of literature, instead of lazy transphobic bullshit.

      The only thing that makes me think that Oyeyemi may know better is that Mia at one point says to Boy something like “Frank’s been Frank longer than he ever was Frances, this is who he is, there’s no point in you going back and confronting him.” But I don’t think the novel intends us to side with her and believe that Boy is deluding herself, because if so, there’s no real resolution.

  2. One more follow-up to say that up until that final chapter, I had been certain that I was going to add this book to my syllabus the next time I taught my course on fairy tales and their contemporary feminist retellings. But now I don’t know what to do, and I’m strongly leaning towards not. On the one hand, it’s so interesting in what it does vis-a-vis Snow White and race. On the other, an ending that falls apart because of lazy transphobia. I can certainly teach the novel and talk about the transphobia of the ending, what Oyeyemi wanted it to do, what it fails to do, why, what transphobic stereotypes it plays into. But assigning a book means encouraging students to buy it, and I don’t know that I really want transphobia to be paying off. I’m trying to think if I’ve taught a contemporary novel (by which I mean, the author is still alive) that was blatantly racist/misogynist/homophobic/transphobic etc. before. I can think of one book whose politics I loathed that I taught, Sheri Tepper’s Beauty (in this same course, actually), but I ultimately decided it wasn’t a good or interesting enough book to be worth its odious politics.

    I would love to hear what people think about this issue.

    1. I’m not trans; I’ve experienced something similar to gender dysphoria since childhood but I identify as my birth gender and have no plans to stop doing so. Regardless, having a discussion about the representation of trans people in fiction with a group of people I don’t know is high on my list of activities to be avoided. I can only imagine how actual trans people would feel. It’s not that I expect educational curriculum to be easy or comfortable; I expect the conversation would accomplish literally nothing but reminding certain students that they are Other.

      Of course, my educational experience has been limited at best, so perhaps I’m not giving enough credit to your students or to your abilities as an educator. If so, then I apologize.

      As far as transphobia paying off:

      The first nine-tenths of Boy, Snow, Bird gave me the impression of a writer capable of becoming part of a newer, more diverse literary canon. That idea was reinforced to me by reading up a bit on her background: she’s young and prolific with a prestigious education and the connections that come with it. If Oyeyemi’s books are going to end up on the “suggested reading list” in every IB program in the English-speaking world – and from my admittedly pedestrian perspective that’s a 50/50 bet – then I’d rather have educators such as yourself getting a head start on discussing the book from the perspective of trans-inclusive feminism. If the price of that discussion is an extra hundred dollars (or whatever) in Oyeyemi’s pocket every time you teach the course, then that’s a price I would accept.

      Further, I don’t feel much compunction about supporting Oyeyemi’s work when: A) I couldn’t tell if the ending to BNB represented the cluelessness of a cis woman or the malice of a TERF, and B) white dudes (some of whom are known shitheads) get to make all sorts of “problematic” art and few people care.

      A tangential concern here is that – for me and possibly others – the ending completely overshadows the rest of the book regardless of trans issues. In addition to the artistic issues you raised, I also found it utterly unbelievable to suggest that a single trauma – even one as severe as rape motivated by homophobia – transformed this brilliant, accomplished, confident, beloved, respected, pioneering, halfway-out-of-the-closet lesbian into Frank the ratcatcher. To paraphrase a review I read while refreshing my memory of the book, the last chapter was like coming to the end of a wonderful conversation with someone who seemed brilliant only to have them go off on a sincere rant about Lizard People running the government. I had trouble even forcing myself to remember what we’d been discussing beforehand.

      1. Thank you so much for this thoughtful and complex response, SkyTracer. I can’t respond now in much detail, because I’m on toddler duty, but I wanted to unscreen the modded comments (everybody’s but Codi’s, ironically) and thank you in particular. I’m going to respond in more detail when I get a larger chunk of time.

        1. You’re welcome. I look forward to your response (as I look forward to all of your comments, if you don’t mind me saying), but I’ve probably exhausted my own supply of thoughtful complexity on this subject.

      2. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this both as I was writing this post and since, and I’m coming down on the side of not teaching the novel. The part of your comment that really speaks to me, SkyTracer, is when you say

        the ending completely overshadows the rest of the book regardless of trans issues. In addition to the artistic issues you raised, I also found it utterly unbelievable to suggest that a single trauma – even one as severe as rape motivated by homophobia – transformed this brilliant, accomplished, confident, beloved, respected, pioneering, halfway-out-of-the-closet lesbian into Frank the ratcatcher. To paraphrase a review I read while refreshing my memory of the book, the last chapter was like coming to the end of a wonderful conversation with someone who seemed brilliant only to have them go off on a sincere rant about Lizard People running the government. I had trouble even forcing myself to remember what we’d been discussing beforehand.

        More and more, I find this is true for me, as well. And if it’s true for me now, it’ll be doubly true when I’m teaching–the entire class on the book will become about the transphobia, because I find it so hateful to pathologize trans-ness the way this ending does, and it will overshadow everything else, preventing me from really getting into the worthwhile substance the book does over. And partially that’s because I would be working very hard to make sure any potential trans students in the course don’t feel alienated, and to create the kind of atmosphere that won’t accept transphobia from my students either, and I couldn’t be comfortable discussing the transphobia and then saying “now let’s set that aside and talk about X.” I know from experience that the best-intentioned of my students, when discussing trans issues (I taught a course on queerness and childhood in literature last year) can make blunders that would be hurtful. I don’t want to subject trans students or students who have trans loved ones to that.

        I agree that education need not be comfortable, but it shouldn’t present re-enact marginalization, either.

        There’s also the kind of cheap cop-out that Oyeyemi has at least one other fairy-tale revision book, Mr. Fox, that I’ve ordered via my local library and will be checking out with an eye toward teaching, so it’s possible I would be able to teach her writing with an example that does not cause such troubles.

  3. How pathetic. Sorry, but I’m not kissing anyone’s ass because of their sexuality. Bad guys/characters can’t be trans? It might upset someone and then the transphobic epithets fly. Eventually, we’ll get to the point that only straight white males that have no sexual or psychological quirks whatsoever can be bad guys/villains.

    1. Nice slippery-slope argument.

      No one is saying that no trans person should ever be cast for a villain ever. From what I understand (and if I’m out of line here, someone please correct me) the problem is that the villain’s trans-ness is portrayed as the root cause of abusive behaviour.

      Also, it’s not kissing ass to be cognizant of how tropes about predatory or deceptive trans people are harmful because they play into common REAL LIFE misconceptions that cause harm and threaten the lives of trans people all the time.

      You can have trans villains, but how about having their villainy be the result of.. oh, I don’t know, anything but their trans-ness?

    2. EG, in my other comment when I said I’d rather avoid this conversation with a random group of students, this sort of thing is exactly why. It’s not just “offensive”; it’s utterly stupid, boring, activates the misanthropic parts of my brain that think of compulsory education as an attempt to fix cancer with band-aids, and forces me choose between exposing myself to ridicule and letting idiots dominate the conversation. Honesty, I’ll choose the latter 99 percent of the time even online, because I hate doing what I’m about to do.

      Codi, if any of the time and money wasted on your education had actually taught you how to read, you’d realize that EG doesn’t believe that you can’t have bad guys who belong to a marginalized group. See, for example, this comment by EG:

      If [Oyeyemi] had decided to make Frank trans, revealed it halfway through the novel, and spent the second half exploring the effects of our society on Frank and Frank’s effects on the people around him, like she did vis-a-vis race, we’d have instead a thoughtful consideration of trans-ness, and a better piece of literature, instead of lazy transphobic bullshit.

      Also, transness has nothing to do with “sexuality”, which you would know if you’d spent any time whatsoever researching this issue before you decided to comment upon it.

      Culture influences peoples beliefs and perceptions, and it’s incumbent upon an artist who considers herself ethical to consider the way in which her art will influence culture for better or for worse. You may disagree that the depiction of transness in Boy, Snow, Bird is harmful to trans people, and that’s fine, but those who disagree aren’t trying to force anyone to bend to accept some overly-sensitive standard of “political correctness”. There are no “thought police” out to get you, okay?

      Now, run off to Reddit where you can whine about “social justice warriors” and have people pat you on the back for it. You’ll even get bonus points for being their female friend who agrees with them that the general depiction of women in video games and comic books totally doesn’t reinforce real-life stereotypes of women as trophies, side-kicks, and distressed damsels.

      I have to go shake in a corner now; feel free to laugh at how pathetic I am. I assure you that the feeling is fucking mutual.

      Edited at commenter’s request.

      1. Oh God — I try to be so careful with my phrasing and I fucked it up huge.

        The comment above was obviously very angry and while I believe that my anger was justified (or at least understandable from my perspective), I see that I used a certain figurative phrase that — given my tone, unknown gender, and the dark fiction discussed in this thread — may have been triggering to some people who are statistically more likely to be women and to seek out safe spaces at feminist websites.

        I’d like to apologize in advance to anyone (including, perhaps especially, Codi) who may have been triggered by my thoughtless choice of words.

        I’m about to repeat the phrase for purposes of asking for it to be removed.

        Is it too much to ask for a mod to edit my comment above such that “bend to” reads “accept”? I’m not asking for it too look like I originally wrote “accept”; I would just like to avoid having my comment trigger rape victims who may be afraid to complain since half of my sparse commenting at this website seems to be anger-induced for some reason.

        I’m not trying to come off like some smarmy, super-sensitive, self-proclaimed “nice male feminist ally”. I’m mildly autistic, so I genuinely don’t know how far over the line I’m stepping sometimes, and I’m very anxious, so I often feel the need to apologize perhaps too profusely for mistakes.

        You know, I’m just the sort of person who shouldn’t be commenting on social justice blogs, because I *am* just the sort of dysfunctional person who makes the phrase “social justice warrior” derisive to some people.

        I’d rather be a social justice cleric, anyway.

    3. The issue’s not that the character happens to be trans*, but that stereotyping/lazy writing/lack of sufficient thought on existing transphobic stereotypes gives the impression that he is evil *because* he’s trans*. That’s problematic and dangerous to general attitudes towards trans* people.

    4. I don’t know what review you’re responding to, because it sure ain’t the one I wrote above. Your reading comprehension is so damn poor that I feel for whomever graded your English essays.

    5. It’s not just that his transness is at the root of his villainy. It’s that his transness is a pathological reaction to trauma; an ultimate rejection of true self rather than a manifestation of it. One of the most common tropes promulgated by transphobes is that transness is not an inherent aspect of one’s self, but is caused by traumatic external events — specifically, rape and sexual abuse.

      In fact, some claim that every trans person was raped/sexually abused (although they usually focus on childhood events). This trope is the main reason that on the rare occasions when I mention having been sexually abused in childhood, I always feel compelled to emphasize that “no, I already knew I was trans; it didn’t cause my transness.”

      As far as your question goes, I can’t be objective. No, I don’t think you should teach it.

      1. Oh, and in response to Codi: you think trans people can’t be portrayed as villains in popular culture? The big “reveal” at the end that a villain is trans — usually in the form of “she’s a man!!!” — is incredibly common and cliched. In fact, it’s one of the most common ways trans people are portrayed: villain, murder victim, and sex worker. Or combinations thereof.

        So you don’t have to worry; there’s no shortage of trans villains for you to enjoy.

        1. I forgot the fourth way: pathetic object of ridicule, although that’s more common for trans women, I think. (See Julia Serano for a discussion of the trans woman as pathetic and ridiculous vs. the trans woman as deceiver.)

      2. I don’t see why your response wouldn’t be objective–there’s nothing unobjective about having greater insight than your average cis person!

        I’ve decided that you’re right. I won’t be teaching it.

    6. There is a difference between casting as an antagonist a character who happens to be part of an oppressed group, and making use of stereotypes and narratives that are constantly used to reinforce that oppression.

      The kind of transmisogyny in this story is a lot like the lesbophobia that is in countless other stories – if there is any representation of lesbians ever, it’s often solely in portrayals of lesbian villains.

      Also, being trans is not a sexuality. You’ve got some 101 stuff to catch up on.

  4. I feel so special seeing my name in the title of the post! ^_^ Thank you! It was a really awesome review.

    I definitely won’t be spending any money on the book. I honestly haven’t decided if I wanted to pick it up from the library…

    I will definitely add Nalo Hopkinson’s book to my Wish List, so thanks for that. 🙂

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