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A review by justabean_reads
Any Other City by Hazel Jane Plante
emotional
funny
hopeful
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
(So, for the record, this is not an actual sequel to Little Blue Encyclopedia (for Vivian), though it does mention it in passing. I did not, in fact, need to read that first. But I'm glad I did, and $7 well spent.)
This takes the form of a first person memoir that's ghost written by Hazel Jane Plante, all discussed as though this isn't fiction (including mentioning that the point of view character stole some of Plante's biographical details for her own story). I found the "This is a true story, no really!" aspect charmingly nostalgic, and I seem to just generally like what this author is doing with structure and format.
The actual story is a trans artist from an unnamed Canadian city that's Vancouver on two visits to an unnamed European city that's maybe Amsterdam (?). The "A Side" takes place in the early '90s, before she's completely figured out that she's trans, and is trying to deal with a lot of issues around self expression and identity, mostly written in form of letters or a running diary written to a childhood sweetheart who's in the middle of breaking up with our heroine. The "B Side" is set just pre-pandemic, with the same woman, now a reasonably well-known singer, returning to the city in the wake of a relationship gone catastrophically wrong.
The split structure, with largely unspoken decades in between, worked perfectly for exploring growth and healing. We see how much the main character has changed, but at the same time how much of that change was built on the foundations laid in the first half. The story keeps reflecting back on itself, and each new image makes it that much stronger. I also loved how much of the book is just about healing through community, and art, and having a fabulous amount of sex (the public sex involving learning to fist that you never knew you needed). There's a ringing echo of all the trans women who have disappeared between sections, and the book neither diminishes nor mono-focuses on that, but makes sure to talk about how important each life was, and how the community of the moment is carrying them forward through memory and art. It feels hopeful in a way I can't quite put words to.
This takes the form of a first person memoir that's ghost written by Hazel Jane Plante, all discussed as though this isn't fiction (including mentioning that the point of view character stole some of Plante's biographical details for her own story). I found the "This is a true story, no really!" aspect charmingly nostalgic, and I seem to just generally like what this author is doing with structure and format.
The actual story is a trans artist from an unnamed Canadian city that's Vancouver on two visits to an unnamed European city that's maybe Amsterdam (?). The "A Side" takes place in the early '90s, before she's completely figured out that she's trans, and is trying to deal with a lot of issues around self expression and identity, mostly written in form of letters or a running diary written to a childhood sweetheart who's in the middle of breaking up with our heroine. The "B Side" is set just pre-pandemic, with the same woman, now a reasonably well-known singer, returning to the city in the wake of a relationship gone catastrophically wrong.
The split structure, with largely unspoken decades in between, worked perfectly for exploring growth and healing. We see how much the main character has changed, but at the same time how much of that change was built on the foundations laid in the first half. The story keeps reflecting back on itself, and each new image makes it that much stronger. I also loved how much of the book is just about healing through community, and art, and having a fabulous amount of sex (the public sex involving learning to fist that you never knew you needed). There's a ringing echo of all the trans women who have disappeared between sections, and the book neither diminishes nor mono-focuses on that, but makes sure to talk about how important each life was, and how the community of the moment is carrying them forward through memory and art. It feels hopeful in a way I can't quite put words to.