This book engages in many ways and at many levels, and part of what works in it is its complexity and density--which makes it harder to write about in any very coherent way. It's an amazing mix of autobiography and biography and social commentary and science and comedy, and it succeeds narratively in all of these areas, and, which is more remarkable, it makes them fit together as a coherent whole. Beam has a frankness in dealing with herself and the girls who are her subject that is arresting and powerful. She has a real and identifiable voice.
I love the fact that she started off at Eagles on a whim, and then allowed herself to be drawn so deep into these lives, and to weave them together with her own. This is a wonderful document of dawning relationships, and it's wonderfully generous because it describes not only what the author could do for these trans teens, but also what they did for her.
Of course it involves such interesting questions. The issue of class is everywhere here, the fact that she could break out of her own world and accept their world on their terms. And the issue of when she got carried away with that--as when she accept the girls' prostituting themselves, which might be bowing to reality, or might be accepting someone else's life as they present it, or might be losing sight of the horror, or might be a realization that it's not quite so horrible if you actually get up close and look at it. There's something voyeuristically satisfying about reading the narratives of what it is like inside this strange universe. She has managed by and large to look at the questions attached to being poor and abandoned and the questions attached to being trans, and the balance she has achieved there is elegant. I found myself toying with what it would be like to be trans, and not feeling threatened by or uncomfortable with the idea, even the idea of being trans and impoverished and lonely and lost. Beam has brought a kind of solidness to these terrifying experiences, that made it possible to process them without too much trauma. Her courage in all she faced gives the reader a kind of courage to face it too.
The scene in which she writes about her own relationship with her own mother and the question it drove her to ask, and how that determined her fine behavior toward these girls, is exquisitely beautiful, modest, wise, knowing, and gentle.
Beam's prose is great. I love her similes--saying that someone's crying is like an exploding aquarium--and her wonderful descriptions of how the girls ate when she took them out for those initial meals, and so many apt turns of phrase that make her sometimes exotic material completely vivid and visceral. She manages to make the science and social theory flow right in, so that they never appear as interruptions to the flow of the story. And she made me feel that I understand what it is to be trans, that it isn't as simple as hormones or clothing or surgery, what a complicated and rich identity it is. And it made me feel how hard it is, in public bathrooms, in romantic escapades, and in every other way.
A truly astonishingly wonderful book.