100 books like Before I Had the Words

I listened to this book never knowing what would come next. The life of a college student finding themselves hit home to me. I’ve searched for who I was for years and could identify with Felix in that way. I felt as if I was on a roller coaster, the emotions with such highs and lows that quickly made me root for Felix.

I may have to buy a physical copy so I can highlight some of the passages that spoke to me. In short, this book is about love. Finding love, sharing love, and loving oneself. I know at times, I have a hard time doing any of those things. Felix made me think if he could make it, so could I. This is definitely one for the permanent bookcase. 

Cemetery Boys was the first time I truly felt represented in a fantasy novel, and once I started, I couldn’t put it down. 

The navigation of family dynamics in the story is brilliant - we follow Yadriel, a gay Latinx trans teen whose family is made up of brujas (women) and brujos (men). The struggle to find his place in that system, and the way that his family members seem accepting in one moment, then dismissive in another is unbearably relatable for many queer kids growing up in Latinx households.

In an effort to prove his worth to his family (and himself) Yadriel accidentally summons the ghost of a very cute dead boy, and together they go on a journey full of both danger and self-discovery.

Another YA book set in New York, but this time in the world of a performing arts school. August Greene, a trans boy from a conservative Pennsylvania community, not only gets accepted into a prestigious performing arts academy in the big city but gets to live his authentic life while doing so. Trouble is, his parents don’t know he’s trans. McSmith is heavily involved in the NY theatre scene, and he writes with insight and accuracy about both trans issues and trans representation in the performing arts. 

Kobabe is a person who doesn’t recognize herself in any of the available identities.

Definitely one of the different ones... Lesbian? Transgender man? Nothing that’s out there and available to choose from seems to fit. This book really encapsulates what it’s like to have to weave your identity yourself instead of being able to get it ready-made. 

I was writing my book when I saw the cover of this memoir on the library’s “new books” display. I wasn’t looking for another transition story but discovered that it crossed into “murder investigation” and was hooked. Lorimer’s life took him from the prairies to Vancouver, where he worked for the police department, and included a mid-life transition, with echoes to my arc. His connection to the horrific Pickton serial murder case between 2002 and 2007, involving missing, vulnerable women, makes his own story all the more poignant.

This is the first book I discovered that helped me understand what was happening to my daughter after she told me she identified as “trans.” I learned about the vulnerability of girls to social contagions by peers and social media influencers.

Although I was baffled by reading that gender-affirming care doesn’t address the root cause of a girl’s distress and instead helps her rush into a medicalized model with long-term, adverse health effects, it confirmed my family’s experience.

This book boosted my confidence to advocate for young people to address and heal what lies beneath the proclamation that they were born in the wrong body, and it also helped me understand the potential damage caused by gender drugs and surgeries.

If you’re wondering in practical ways how to do trans history, Manion’s book is a great place to start. It takes one of the categories that preceded a transgender identity (the name typically given to people affirmed female at birth who identified as men and married women) and reimagines how eighteenth- and nineteenth-century lives might look with the benefit of the tools of our modern politics. The book is boldly inclusive, resisting deciding ahead of time how the category should be defined and who should be ruled in or out. Manion is also a role model in respecting the ambiguities of the past, mostly using neutral pronouns and offering non-judgmental speculations about what these subjects and their partners might have thought at key moments in their courageous and inspiring lives. 

Before Trans is a triple biography of three very remarkable French women writers, all of whom preferred men’s clothing and behaved in unladylike ways. The three are Jane Dieulafoy (1850 - 1916), explorer and archeologist; the novelist Rachilde (Marguerite Eymery,1860-1953); and the erotic writer Marc de Montifaud (Marie-Amélie Charteroule de Montifaud,1845-1912). The distinctive feature of this provocative book is the author’s effort to understand these women who chose to defy the boundaries of femininity but lived in a world that was “before trans” – before what we understand today as transgender, where one’s sex and one’s gender self-understanding do not line up. It is a brilliant book, which one reviewer describes (and I agree) as “exceedingly well-written, layered, and compelling.”  Mesch’s pioneering triple biography is not to be missed.

Dreadnought is a fantastic story about a young trans girl who inherits the powers of the most powerful superhero in the world.

Like Captain Marvel, it bestows upon her the looks of her idealized form. Unfortunately, this goes over like a ton of bricks with her family that she hadn't revealed herself to. The coming-of-age drama doesn't take a back seat to the superheroics, though, and I absolutely love the characters created by the author. 

I recommend this amazing book because it will truly help bring you out of hiding. When we are always trying to be in self-protection mode, from what we experienced in childhood, we’re going to a place of hiding.

Through her honesty and revelations, this book will free you from wherever you’re hiding and what you need freedom from.