Jennifer Shields gives a personal reflection on the impact trans literature has had on her, highlighting key books from Imogen Binnie, Emily St. James, Casey Plett, and leading Aotearoa writers that continue to shape trans identity and community.
During a recent psychology training day, a colleague asked what books people are currently reading to better understand trans experiences. He recalled how, early in his career, Conundrum by Jan Morris – a groundbreaking 1974 memoir – was the only resource available to him that offered insight into the life of a trans person. In today’s world, he was curious about what newer texts are shaping understanding.
Our conversation naturally evolved, given the surge of trans literature in recent years. It made me reflect on the books that have marked pivotal moments in my own transition – and the ones I continue to discover that still resonate deeply, even more than a decade later.
For me, reading trans-authored literature as a trans person can feel like someone has tapped directly into my inner thoughts – even the ones I hadn’t consciously articulated. I didn’t engage with much of this writing before I came out, unaware of how much was already out there. But over the past decade, I’ve encountered many books that stopped me in my tracks, articulating emotions I hadn’t known how to name.
One of the first books that had this impact on me – and on many others – was Imogen Binnie’s Nevada. A transformative novel about a trans woman on a road trip, Nevada gave words to feelings I’d buried: especially how repressing one’s gender identity can often be a form of self-preservation.
That novel led me to explore more works from Topside Press, a Brooklyn-based indie trans publisher. I quickly became immersed. Casey Plett’s A Safe Girl to Love similarly reflected aspects of myself I hadn’t fully understood – offering language and emotional clarity I was craving.
The allure of trans literature hasn’t faded for me. Recently, I read Emily St. James’ debut novel Woodworking. At first glance, it’s a simple narrative about trans lives, but beneath that surface lies an exploration of visibility, stealth living, and the quiet influence of simply existing as a known trans person.
Closer to home, Aotearoa is blessed with brilliant trans writers. I vividly recall discovering essa may ranapiri’s debut poetry collection ransack at a Word Christchurch event. Their voice on the page is both powerful and playful. More recently, I devoured Sacha Stronach’s The Dawnhounds and its sequel The Sunforge – striking sci-fi stories enriched with Māori identity. Stronach came out while writing and publishing these books, and although the shift between the two might seem subtle to some, I found it deeply affirming.
And I was thrilled to learn that Will Hansen’s doctoral thesis Queer Activism in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1961–2013 has been made open access and is on its way to becoming a book. As someone invested in queer history, I’m excited to read this thoughtfully compiled documentation of our past.
Today, more trans people are writing and publishing across every imaginable genre. If you’re curious, go looking. There’s a universe of voices waiting to be heard – and you might just discover something that speaks directly to you.
