The most recommended transgender books

As a parent (and a researcher), I’m so happy this book exists! It’s the best response to the argument that trans kids are new and, therefore, how we raise them is dangerously experimental. Where Gill-Peterson finds such kids historically is mainly in medical archives, where treatments were directed mostly at intersex children, many of whom we’d see as trans. She shows a fascination with the “plasticity” of the body in the early twentieth century, although predictably, possibilities for transforming bodies were viewed differently across racial lines. The best counter to conservative attacks, though, is his research into Val, a 1920s teen in rural Wisconsin who went to school as the gender she affirmed and had negotiated agreements about things like which bathroom she could use, over which we’re fighting a century later!

This is such a life-affirming Australian story about a transgender teen and how their unlikely friendship with an elderly man sets them on a path to self-acceptance and peace. There are some heavy themes explored in this book – from suicide to drug abuse – but it is ultimately an uplifting and deeply moving novel that is told in such a tender way. It personally opened my eyes to the struggles transgender people go through with gender dysphoria, and shows how having the right people in your life can be the difference between life and death. It’s essential reading for LGBT people and allies.

This book begins with the compelling, captivating story of a woman accepting that she is gay and dealing with the turbulence this causes in her life.

That’s enthralling…but then the character falls in love with a woman who has some strange traits. Turns out she has eight different personalities!

However, if the characters were not gay, this would still be a compelling, captivating story of human interactions. I laughed and cried and rejoiced with the characters.

This book impressed me because it doesn't shy away from its subject matter. The author tells about her journey and the struggles that pile up when she seeks professional help to transition but meets instead with a therapist who quickly becomes overwhelmed as they unpack trauma and dissociative identity disorder. With a whopping 904 pages, it's intense, but never gets dense. Entry is low-threshold and the quirky characters drew me in in no time. So much so that even when I didn't know who to believe, I was ready to believe anyone. This book perfectly illustrates the problems around gatekeeping of transgender healthcare and its complex intersections with mental health.

This book appealed to me so I could better understand the ideological agendas affecting women and girls. As a woman and a mom of daughters, I feel troubled by what I have been witnessing as the sex category of “female” is eliminated in certain contexts.

The author politically leans left, so I learned from her perspective about how our society is being shaped by new ideologies that affect the future of women’s rights, safe spaces, and fairness in sports. I felt alarmed when I read about what is happening but also grateful to the author for shedding light on the topic so I could be more observant and empowered when my safety and rights as a female are being infringed upon.

I picked up Transmutation when it was very difficult for any book to hold my interest—during the constant low-level depression that colored the seemingly endless extended lockdown in Sydney in 2021. It held me spellbound. I had an inkling it would: I adored DiFrancesco’s earlier work, Psychopomps, which I read in 2019. The stories of Transmutation are electric and warm and sad. Like the other stories and novels on this list, they never fully answered my questions, never wrapped anything up in a neat bow. They left me immensely satisfied.

Nabb’s Marshal Guarnaccia, unflamboyant and patient, is an unspectacular thinker but a brilliant listener with a real, if unsentimental sympathy for the people he deals with on both sides of the law. Without fancy vices or personal charisma, Guarnaccia’s fundamental decency is nowhere on better display than in The Marshal’s Own Case, set among the desperate young transgender prostitutes of the Florentine sex trade, a culture quite different from the Marshal’s own secure family life.

I read this book early in my exploration of genderqueer identity, and I found Professor Voth’s defiant joy in uncovering and sharing the historical story of Jack Sheppard, and in his own trans identity, permission-giving. This playful book dramatizes the search for trans histories and ancestries, ultimately transforming this search into a celebration of chosen family.

It might be a children’s book, but this is one of the most powerful sales and marketing stories ever written! It instilled in me persistence and dogged determination. From it, I learned, too, that you must never immediately dismiss those who you find downright annoying.

As an adult, this book helped me to motivate others to "give it a go;" to try something new and different. It inspired me to do the same and not to be easily intimidated.

I first fell in love with the women in Paper Dolls, where they are all introduced. Each subsequent book in the series is more detailed about each paper doll.

At first, I didn’t really like Priscilla, but the more I read about her specific story, the more I was drawn to her character. Her vulnerable side came out, and the love between her and Barry shone through; I absolutely loved how their marriage was depicted and how they dealt with complex family relationships.

While I can’t wait to read Eve (I’m predicting she will be my favorite paper doll), I have a huge soft spot in my heart for Priscilla that surprised even me!