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Product Details
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A universal concern – the importance of self-determination – takes a highly specific form in Kathleen Winter’s first novel, the story of an intersex child born in a remote coastal Labrador village in 1968. Intersex births are considerably more common in real life than in fiction, and Montreal-based Winter has followed up her Metcalf-Rooke Award–winning short story collection BoYs with a thoughtful treatment of this rarely discussed topic. Despite a few plot and pacing stumbles, Annabel is a dramatic, thematically rich novel.
Intersex conditions arise when a person is born with atypical reproductive or sexual anatomy. The key concern of intersex advocates is whether infant bodies and genitalia should be surgically altered to match societal expectations. The long-term ramifications of such decisions form Annabel’s narrative backbone. Winter also considers the broader effect of gender constraints, particularly how these vary between smaller rural settlements and urban environments.
When Jacinta Blake gives birth in the bathtub of her house in the village of Croydon Harbour, her close friend Thomasina is the first to notice that the newborn possesses a combination of male and female parts. Thomasina begins to refer to the baby as Annabel, in tribute to her own lost daughter, who died along with her father in a boating accident. But Jacinta’s husband, Treadway, an outdoorsman and trapper, decides he wants to raise a male heir.
The child is christened Wayne and taken to Goose Bay General Hospital for an operation designed to render him more convincingly male. But the surgical alteration must be bolstered by expensive hormonal medications, the true purpose of which Wayne doesn’t learn until the onset of puberty. Experiencing a confusing identification with femininity from early boyhood, Wayne grows up an outsider, and eventually relocates to St. John’s, where he struggles to take greater control of his body and identity.
Winter’s skilful prose, rooted in a vivid sense of place, captures a particular historic moment. In tiny Croydon Harbour and the surrounding wilderness, “where caribou moss spreads in a white-green carpet,” both men and women are required to be resilient in order to survive, but their respective roles are clearly defined. The townspeople’s expectations are flouted when a boy resists acting in a masculine way, or when young people abandon their roots and strike out for the big city.
Winter employs details that are specific and effective, be they local culinary specialties, like partridgeberry loaf, or the artifacts of Wayne’s coming of age in the 1980s, such as his Spirograph toy or America’s Top 40 with radio host Casey Kasem. Winter captures the essence of childhood using simple but evocative references – one girl’s method of biting the peanuts off an Oh! Henry bar, for example, or the feel of sinking one’s teeth into a pencil.
The novel is thematically sophisticated, particularly in its exploration of travel and aging as ways of escaping social strictures. This is especially evident in Thomasina, who serves as a role model for young Wayne. Winter also examines the notion of colonization and its impact on land and people, starting with the historic arrival of European missionaries on the Labrador shore, and suggesting that Wayne’s body has been commandeered by medical authorities whose dictates have more to do with maintaining a gendered social order than with his own happiness and fulfillment. To her credit, Winter largely avoids using overt symbolism to depict Wayne’s condition, rightly realizing that to be born intersex is not an intrinsic embodiment of either dualism or ambiguity – an intersex person is simply a person.
That said, the story does feature a medical subplot that strives to operate as a metaphor for how Wayne’s identity transcends a single gender. This subplot strains credulity, and the novel would have been stronger without it. Most readers, even those knowledgeable about intersex conditions, will doubt whether what is described is even physically possible. Similarly, the main plot at times relies on perfect coincidences that may snap readers out of the otherwise effective spell that Winter has cast.
Another distraction recurs over the book’s four-hundred-plus pages. Whenever a significant confrontation occurs – for instance, when Wayne’s father criticizes Thomasina for hinting about Wayne’s gender differences – the reader is treated to a lengthy digression about what is going on in each character’s mind, an authorial strategy that tries the reader’s patience. There is only one instance in the book where this device works well – during a brutal physical assault – because here it creates a sense of disorientation and dissociation.
Despite certain distracting elements, Annabel is an impressive first novel. Wayne’s driving preoccupation – how to discover and inhabit a distinct identity while simultaneously finding a place in the world at large – affects his parents and peers in ways that Winter explores subtly and in depth. Although a number of loose narrative ends are tidied up in the novel’s closing chapters, the central question of Wayne’s future remains unanswered. But his inner journey mirrors that shared by many Canadians, whose identities arise out of a sense of home, and the process of leaving that home behind.
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Most helpful customer reviews
15 of 15 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars
One of my favourite books of 2010,
By
This review is from: Annabel (Hardcover)
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, "It's 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 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 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 Donoghue for Room), the Governor General's Literary Award, and the Scotiabank Giller Prize.
19 of 20 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars
Tackling a Difficult Subject with Grace!,
By
This review is from: Annabel (Hardcover)
Winters has written a hauntingly beautiful novel. It is beautiful in its craftsmanship. It is beautiful in its natural,rugged Labrador coastal setting of the 1960's. It is beautiful in its simplicity of characters and story. What is not so beautiful is it topic...hermaphroditism. And yet, Winters shows us that this abberation of nature is not necessarily ugly and sordid. It is not one which must be immediately surgerically corrected upon birth. Indeed her message resonates in the midwife's words "That baby is all right the way it is. There's enough room in this world." And so Wayne grows up, ostensibly,a male,receiving testosterone shots from the island hospital, while simultaneously possessing female organs and emotions. The truth is kept a huge secret.The main characters...Wayne, himself;the midwife,Thomasina; Jacinta,the mother; and Treadwell,the father, are the only ones who know why Wayne sometimes prefers "less manly" activities. Tension builds as Jacinta understands and sympathizes with Wayne's proclivities, while Treadwell openly castigates them. Many times in the novel, the reader sympathize with Wayne's frustrations. It is only when he has left home and finally met up with Wally, a primary school friend with whom he had always felt comfortable, that he can truly relax. The setting has changed to a college in Boston, where Wally is studying music. Sitting among the other students there, Wayne suddenly realized that he finally "fit in". Finally,"he did not feel out of place because of his body's ambiguity". While the story has been one of great angst,and while Winters may not have convinced the reader that it is best to leave nature alone, the reader at least awakens to the deep humanity of hermaphroditism. And, regardless of the amount of surgical intervention, all people are comprised of both male and female characteristics, and all combinations need to be accepted.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars
Who Are We When Our Identity is Decided by Others?,
By Cheryl Schenk (Alberta, Canada) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Annabel (Hardcover)
The Globe and Mail calls it "Beautiful...Absolutely riveting from the very first page." and that is a fact. Kathleen Winter is a very capable storyteller and I look forward to future works.I love when the cover of a book intrigues me. The blurred vision of an animal confused me at first, but became a profound imagery in several ways throughout the introduction to Labrador and its inhabitants. In this story the author weaves a tale about people and community and the challenges of youth, all of which has been complicated further by the hidden truth of a child's identity, dictated to by gender and society beliefs. I felt tremendous sympathy for Wayne throughout, and was often angered or bewildered by the actions of the adults in his life. However, I was also touched by the depth of love and respect amongst these individuals, and moved by the sense of innocence and trust that remained at the core of Wayne's character from childhood into his adult life. As a parent, I also understand that we are often called upon to make decisions in our children's lives and that community, family traditions and upbringing play such a strong role for all of us in who we become as adults and how we make those decisions. From the time I first heard about his story through the Giller prize shortlist, I was compelled to read it. At a young age, I remember my mother and aunts talking about a distant cousin that was born a hermaphrodite, though that word never entered the conversation. They spoke about the fact that his parents chose to raise him as a son, and that through the years that decision became a struggle for him. I never understood, or even contemplated, what kind of struggle he would have had or the depth of physical and mental pain he may have been subjected to. Thank you, Ms. Winter, for opening my eyes and touching my heart through Annabel.
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