Annabel

First off, I have to say that this was definitely one of the best books I’ve read this year. Interesting, beautifully written, unique. Winter writes with elegant simplicity. As the blurb on the cover by author Michael Crummey says, “a beautiful book, brimming with heart and uncommon wisdom,” and that sums it up perfectly.

Annabel is the story of a baby born in 1968 in a remote village in Labrador---itself a remote region of Canada—with both male and female genitalia . A decision was made—somewhat reluctantly by his mother and her best friend/midwife-- to raise the baby as male, and so his vagina was stitched shut, he was given life-long meds, and the female side of little Wayne was hidden inside himself. By the time Wayne show more reaches puberty though, it is clear to him that he is not like any other child, and the truth is revealed to him in bits and pieces. More than just a story of what it’s like to live an intersex life, this is a story of silences and secrets, and all about identity and how we all perform our genders. Winter approaches this all with great dignity and sensitivity. If I have quibble about this book, it’s just that Wayne’s poor mother disappears from the book about 2/3rds of the way through. What happened to her?
I received this book as part of the ER program back in July, but between the frosty blue cover with the deer on it and the author’s name “Winter,” the book just seemed too cold to read in the height of summer. Having read it now I wonder why I took so long—this is a great read any time of the year.

One more small thing: Gabriel Fauré’s “Cantique de Jean Racine” is important to a three of the characters in a few spots. When it came up right near the end I was curious and so pulled it up on YouTube. Of course I recognized it right away. It’s a stunning piece of music, and listening to it as I read the final pages was an enriching experience that brought tears to my eyes.

Annabel was nominated for the literary triple crown in Canada: the Roger’s Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize (which was recently awarded to Emma Donohue for Room), the Governor General’s Literary Award, and the Scotiabank Giller Prize. show less

In 1968, a baby was born to Jacinta and Treadway Blake, in a small Labrador trapping village. The birth was attended by a few village women, all close friends. One woman, Thomasina, noticed something unusual right away: the baby had both male and female genitalia. She was the only one outside the family who knew, and supported Jacinta as she struggled to accept what this would mean to them, and to the baby. Treadway decided the baby would be raised as a boy, and while Jacinta felt otherwise, she would not go against her husband. From that moment on the baby was known as Wayne, although Thomasina often called him "Annabel" in private.

Jacinta wished she could raise Wayne as both son and daughter, and only vaguely understood the challenges show more this could pose for Wayne as he grew up. Treadway desperately wanted a traditional, masculine son, and despaired at Wayne's more feminine interests. As a boy, Wayne was ignorant of the medical details, and knew only that he has to take special vitamins. He felt vaguely different from the other boys he knew, and his closest friend was a girl. While Wayne's medical treatment was costly, the more devastating impact was emotional. Jacinta and Treadway are unable to share their feelings with each other, and gradually this takes a toll. Wayne found it increasingly difficult to relate to either of them, and life only became more difficult as he matured and struggled to find his true self.

Kathleen Winter drew me into this story gradually, and skillfully. It wasn't a page-turner, but I was surprised to find myself emotionally caught up in this book. I despaired at Jacinta and Treadway's broken relationship, and each response to the family tension. My heart wrenched over the conflict between Treadway and Wayne, especially when Treadway's fears led him to destroy something very dear to Wayne. I also felt very sad for Wayne, who had a secret no one could understand, and coped with so much emotional trauma. As he approached adulthood, Wayne began to understand and accept himself, and I closed the book knowing his life would never be easy, but there were glimmers of hope for his future. show less

Some reviewers have expressed a concern that the medical details of this story are implausible - but what strikes me is the emotional intelligence and sensitivity with which Kathleen Winter treats the whole question of gender and its ambiguity: the technical details seem to me to be no more troubling than those, for example, in Kazuo Ishiguro's 'Never Let Me Go', which is widely being hailed as a masterpiece. In some ways 'Annabel' echoes this earlier novel; its spare but eloquent language, and its characterisation of the remote Labrador landscape remind me also of Annie Proulx; and there were some passages, about the way in which our residue of faith (not only religious faith) is unequal to the complexities of the lives in which we show more find ourselves today, which reminded me of much of the mood of Marilynne Robinson's 'Gilead'. There is a shocking episode which is as vivid as the denouement of 'Boys Don't Cry' - although this is a very much gentler and more gracious story; and I liked the subsidiary narrative of Wayne/Annabel's friend Wally, whose voice - and with it the chance to sing - is damaged by a terrible accident quite early in the book: the 'Cantique de Jean Racine' by Gabriel Fauré is, itself, almost as strong a character as the Canadian wilderness against which, or maybe within which, the whole thing works itself out. One or two passages slightly made me cringe - though this may be because of my own discomfort with the unflinching encounter in this story with intersex, or, by implication, trans-sex experience: but in every instance Kathleen Winter leads her text back to a place of grace and maturity, which makes me think that the rest is not undeliberated. I think this is an extremely thoughtful, elegant, humane and life-affirming book, and I strongly recommend it. show less

This is a thoughtful and often lyrical investigation into what it means to grow up different from other children. It’s 1968 in Labrador, and Jacinta, at home and surrounded by her female friends, gives birth to a baby who has both male and female characteristics. But only the baby’s parents and a close friend, Thomasina, know it, so it’s straightforward enough for Treadway, the baby’s father, to decide that he’ll be raised as a boy. Wayne grows into a solitary child, close to his mother, but generally comfortable enough with his father, and all is quiet enough until Wayne reaches puberty.

I enjoyed this novel which is, in many ways, as sparse as its Labrador setting. At the end I felt that, if you were prepared to suspend show more disbelief (and I usually am, as a reader, happy to take a work very much on its own terms) it works well as a study of loneliness: I’m not sure that it really said much about gender ambiguity, except that it makes it difficult to find friends, something we could probably have guessed. Perhaps it’s too delicate, and a few more rough edges in the writing might have made it more immediate, made you care more deeply about the characters. Your heart should be in your mouth at Wayne’s plight, but instead you just drift through, pausing only momentarily to wonder at this or that. When I finished the book I found I was left with a sense of wistfulness and an overall feeling that my emotions had had too easy a ride for the subject matter. show less

This review is going to be more of a compare-contrast of [Annabel] and Jeffrey Eugenides's Middlesex, a book I read earlier this year. Both tackle the rather sensitive topic of intersexuality, which has also been called hermaphroditism. The two books couldn't be further apart, IMO, in their delivery of the topic. Eugenides tackles the topic by anchoring it in a sweeping family saga, with a dark humour perspective and a fair bit of detailed scientific facts thrown into the mix. Winter takes a very different approach. She softens the topic, tackling it from a more intimate point of view while bringing in the landscape of a small, hunting and trapping community in Labrador to help convey the sense of isolation Wayne/Annabel experiences as show more he embarks on a journey of self determination. I want to call the Eugenides and Winter books the epitome of American and Canadian story-telling. Eugenides sweeping immigrant family saga is a testament to what has created America. Winter takes a truly Canadian approach by presenting a more sedate, focused story, making both the intersexuality and the Canadian culture/geography simultaneous focuses of the story. Even the violence that occurs in the story is muted... providing glimpses, but not all the graphic details of the violence. I liked that approach. It provided for a consistent overall feel of the story. Some readers may not agree, but I think the larger theme in Annabel is how Winter displays the slowly developing awareness of Wayne - and the reactions of his family and close friends - as he embarks on this journey of self discovery. This was captured really well. I think it also speaks to why it is wrong for adults, both parents and medical professionals, to make decisions - even when they think they are doing so in the best interests of the child - without fully understanding how their decisions can have an impact on the child as they develop.

Overall, a beautifully written story. Some aspects of the story may be a little hard to accept from a realism perspective but for a debut novel, I feel that its strengths outweigh any deficits/deficiencies detected. show less

Simply an amazing piece of work. It is hard to imagine that this could be a first novel, but it is. Ms. Winter has an amazing gift for language and incredible insights into the human condition. Each character from the crusty Treadway to the kind softhearted Wayne was shown in multiple dimensions that denied the reader the chance to accept stereotypes or to make lasting judgments on anyone in the story.

"Winters' prose is lyrical and lonely, yet relatable. Wayne's story is magnetic, powerful, and has an unexplainable energy.[return][return]The novel raises a lot of questions about who people are, and why you choose the paths you choose. Each central person (Wayne, Thomasina, Jacinta, and Treadway) considers life's purpose in a different light. Each character examines how they are connected to the world, Labrador, and the animals and society around them. One of the best quotes is from Thomasina: Everyone is a snake shedding its skin& We are different people through all our lives.

Read my full review on my blog: http://www.monniblog.com/2010/08/annabel-by-kathleen-winters/"