PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. The article below is meant to support writers looking for information and/or ideas. Welcome! Young Adult (YA) Literature is another tough genre to pinpoint. Romance is easy, horror is easy, but YA and transgressive fiction both seem to include other genre elements, thus hiding under other genres.
When defining YA lit, I ask myself: Is it a genre written for young adults? Do the characters need to be young adults? Do the stories need to be about common topics that young adults like? Is it all of the above? I think about things that I read as a young adult, which included transgressive fiction. I asked for Chuck Palahniuk’s Haunted for Christmas and my mom, who bought it for me, told me that the bookstore clerk told her that people had passed out from reading it (I couldn’t wait to get through it — and I didn’t pass out). There’s no way this would be considered YA, right? But I was his audience and, indeed, YA. So what makes something YA Lit? Southern Connecticut University says this: “The term “young adult literature” is inherently amorphous, for its constituent terms “young adult” and “literature” are dynamic, changing as culture and society — which provide their context — change. When the term first found common usage in the late 1960’s, it referred to realistic fiction that was set in the real (as opposed to imagined), contemporary world and addressed problems, issues, and life circumstances of interest to young readers aged approximately 12–18…” I appreciate they acknowledge that this genre can change as culture and society and the interest of young adults change. But considering that YA lit refers to a realistic, contemporary world that addresses problems and life circumstances… doesn’t this sound like transgressive fiction? Or at least Mild Transgressive Fiction? I guess it might depend on the concern we’re addressing, but please, we all have to know that kids deal with taboo things too. Which leads me to what this blog post is about: Transgressive fiction doesn’t talk about YA transgressive fiction enough — I mean, ever. When Googling “Young Adult Transgressive Fiction”, the same pages come up that appear when searching for “Transgressive Fiction”. This includes listings of the same novels and authors that adults who are interested in the genre are reading. The stories that are listed aren’t about teenagers (but is that a characteristic of YA lit? If YA lit just has to address problems that interest young readers, can they be about adult characters?). The ones popping up on Google would never be on the YA Lit shelves. But there are stories that are written about teenagers dealing with transgressive topics, transgressive topics ESPECIALLY for teenagers. Many adults like to pretend teens are too young to be involved in violence and sex, but by trying to keep them away from those plots, these topics become even more “transgressive” for this age group. Right? Here I list some contemporary novels, probably identified as YA novels, that are either outright transgressive or mildly transgressive. Push by Saphire Losing It by Keith Gray Ask the Passengers by AS King One Death, Nine Stories by Marc Aronson (Editor), Charles R. Smith Jr. Go Ask Alice ???? Monster by Walter Dean Myers Cut by Patricia McCormick Books by Ellen Hopkins (like Crank, Burned, Glass, etc.) So it appears that YA transgressive fiction, while not really identified as a genre, does exist. Are there any other books you would identify as Young Adult Transgressive Fiction? (Which I guess, at this point, I’m just defining as books focused on transgressive plots with teenager main characters.)
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I am honored that my short story “Fat Girls” has been published on Hobart. I’ve received some curiosity surrounding the inspiration for this story, so here are the ‘behind the scenes’, so-to-speak, below. You may have read this in some of my About Me writings, but in 2011 I was in a fatal car accident. I survived, but was in a coma for a week. When I “woke up,” I was constantly falling in and out of sleep for another week maybe. Then, when I was consistently awake, food sounded disgusting to me for some reason (which was a new experience). I would only eat to stop hunger — once the hunger was gone, my body wanted to eat no more. On top of that, the only food that sounded remotely appetizing was fruit. So for a few weeks, all I ate was fruit, and very little at that. Then I slowly started eating other food, but still, only until I was no longer feeling hunger pains. This lasted for probably three months before I returned to eating more regularly. By the end of those few months, I ended up losing about 20 pounds. If I’m being honest, I didn’t even feel like I had lost weight for probably the first year. I remember returning to school for the first time after my accident and a classmate had said something about me losing weight. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Eventually, I’d come to realize that I did lose weight. Eventually, I began to think that even though everything I went through was horrific, at the very least, I was kind of grateful that I had lost weight without having to do any of the work (and that sounds so awful but think about the culture that made me feel this way). The thing is, I was never “fat” — and saying that makes it sound like “fat” is inherently bad, which isn’t true. But my culture taught me not to be it. To be anything but it, even if I looked at other “fat” woman and thought they were beautiful. So I tried losing weight, to be “skinny”, or skinnier, by eating a little less or walking more, but nothing did much for me. Many of the things that happen in “Fat Girls” are very real experiences that people in the world have had when existing in their body image. I actually cut some of my own experiences out because beta readers said they felt too fake/fabricated (despite having actually happened to me in real life). This includes my (now) ex telling me that I was hot, but I’d be hotter if I lost weight (and was shorter). Originally in “Fat Girls,” this is how Tony broke up with the narrator, but I changed it. After reflecting on having lost weight from a coma and how ‘easy’ it was to do it, to not realize you’re not eating because you’re knocked out, I thought about a world in which people did that intentionally and how it could be a story. I sat on this plot for at least eight years before I finally started writing it. Then I wasn’t sure where to go with it… so it sat for a little while more. I go to the gym, and that’s where some of the plot points I needed hit me. While this is a fictional story and is not about any one person’s experience, it is made up of many real experiences. The same day that I closed my laptop and considered the story done, I was (coincidentally) at the gym and overheard two girls in the locker room talking about their pant sizes, if they felt like they looked like what the number told them they were, and how they felt about their appearance. The same day, I overheard someone else talking about their weight. Parts in the story about the mom questioning what the narrator eats were inspired by someone’s blog post I read. Emmy saying “Oof, I’m full. I should stop eating” is something I accidentally do. Being hit on at the gym is another thing I’ve seen happen. Men making comments about women, like the narrator’s Dad at the bar. Mothers and grandmothers making comments about women, about how much someone weighs, has happened in my own family. “Maybe she shouldn’t eat as much. It’s not the dress’s fault.” Woman making comments about women, looking at other women and judging them happens. All the time. Heifer/Jennifer mentions “How to Get Skinny Fast” in Women’s Health magazine. This is a real article that I saw as I was checking out at the grocery store. I wrote the name down so I could use it in this story. The narrator says, “I heard there’s health reasons and that keeps people from losin’ weight sometimes and I wonder if that’s me. Sleep. Genetics. Thyroids?” — I’ve heard these things, read these things, looked these things up even. Men like Zillo, sexualizing, idolizing young girls. I was 12 the first time a man honked at me while he drove past me walking up to 7–11 to get a Slurpee. And so many other small, cultural things that happen in this story are things that I and many other people are a part of and have experienced or done. So I thought it would be interesting, to write a story that explored the life of someone so desperate to “just be skinny”, and to get all the perks that come with being skinny, that she would put herself through a coma to accomplish it. What would happen? What does that say about her? What does it say about everyone else? I did a bunch of research on which drugs would be able to sedate and not kill to accomplish this, and how one would even get access to that drug, and came up with “Fat Girls”. In this story I explore my experience as a woman being inundated with imagery of what bodies are considered socially acceptable and beautiful, and the kinds of culture that perpetuates this imagery. I don’t have any answers, but my hope for you is to read “Fat Girls” and walk alongside the questions. Do you have answers? Disclaimer: I recognize there are women who are happy with how they look, and women who want to be bigger or curvier. There are men who feel the need to look a different way. etc. These are all valid. And while the story I wrote is not the only story, it isn’t about those other stories either. (although, to be fair, most of these stories are a part of the same culture — one that puts emphasis on our looks.)
Shannon Waite has taught English and Creative Writing in Detroit. Her fiction has been published in PANK, Oakland Arts Review, and elsewhere. www.shannonwaiteauthor.com I am so excited to share that my short story “Fat Girls” has been published over on Hobart today! This story has been in my head for over ten years, and has taken me two and a half to write and finish, but once it was done, I knew it was done. I also had a strong feeling that Hobart would be its home. It was inspired by a few things, and if anyone is interested in the “Behind the Scenes” story of what inspired this piece, let me know and I‘ll write a blog post about it. But in the meantime: please, read this story. I don’t have many answers, but I my hope for you is to read “Fat Girls” and walk alongside the questions. Do you have answers?
Shannon Waite has taught English and Creative Writing in Detroit. Her fiction has been published in PANK, Hobart, Oakland Arts Review, and elsewhere. www.shannonwaiteauthor.com PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. The review below is meant to explore this novel as a transgressive fiction text. Welcome! While writing stories that are a little gritty, or unhappy, or not considered ‘normal’ about society (broken families, disabilities, sexual experiences, among others), Victoria Lancelotta uses such beautiful language and striking images in her collection of short stories Here in the World that I fell in love immediately.
Here in the World by Victoria Lancelotta is a collection of thirteen stories. Each story is written from the first person narration of a woman (each story being a different woman) and her experience in the world, typically through the lens of relationships, more specifically her relationship to men/a man. My favorite story was the first story, “The Guide”, starting off with “Listen. Here is a love story.” And then “We filed to the alter in doll-sized veils and patent leather shoes, heads bowed, our trembling hands folded and held chest-high, and before kneeling to receive the wafer from the priest…” The story then weaves the imagery of church and religion through a woman’s relationship to a blind man who is rough during sex, to which the narrator muses over the pain and guilt she feels in this complicated relationship. The story ends on “What could a blind man pray for, what thing that he would get?” I think this was my favorite story of the bunch (Lancelotta started off strong!) for the powerful imagery and lingering questions it left. Her stories are not primarily focused on plot. Rather, I’d say they use the plot as a tool and opportunity to paint beautiful images with language and to present the reader with philosophical reflections in the questions and comments the narrators make. For example, in her final story, “Here in the World,” the narrator opens the story remembering what it’s like to be a young girl and get all the attention from boys who drive by as often happens when girls walk down the street. This experience of attention will thread through the main plot of the story which is that she is separated from her husband, soon-to-be ex, with whom her son still lives. She’s waiting for the son’s arrival to visit her new home, and she says, “I walk through all this carrying an invisible girl, buried under the flesh of a wife, a mother, an ex-wife by September, my hand out as I cross streets with an invisible boy, little outline just so-high when I saw him last, solid body, feet right on the ground outside that big other house with his father next to him.” What poignant language to reflect on these kinds of emotions and experiences so many women have either had, or can still relate to. Lancelotta is a thoughtful poet and each of her stories uses this skill to create a universal longing, even among different stories. She threads main plots alongside thematic events that work together to create a bigger message in such a short space. The stories were beautiful. I was drawn to some more than others (I particularly was less interested in her stories near the end which involved a few of the narrators living on the beach). I’m not sure why those types of stories appeal to me less — I can’t say it’s because that life is less familiar to me (because the dark urban settings that I love reading about aren’t exactly my life either), but maybe it’s because the connotation of such a life feels less taboo, despite the plot. Either way, I’d say the collection definitely includes some stories that are stronger and more vivid than others (as with most anthologies). I would consider this mild transgressive fiction, which I discuss in my previous blog post, because it definitely incorporates transgression (like I said, politically and socially taboo relationships, actions, etc.) and at some points the abuse of the body (which I discuss here as a great technique for transgressive fiction) but because Lancelotta’s stories seemingly focus more on the beautiful language than the shock of the plot, it’s hard for me to define this as complete transgressive fiction. It’s mild. It definitely includes elements, and anyone who enjoys pretty language, deep reflections, and subtly taboo relationships, will love this book. I bought this book by accident — I was at 2nd and Charles, a used bookstore, just browsing books. Couldn’t find anything by authors I knew who I hadn’t read yet, and they had a sale going on for buy 2 get 2 free, so there’s no way I couldn’t find more books when they were free books anyway. So I’m just pulling out book after book across a ton of different shelves and this cover image (along with the title) caught my eye. They say “don’t judge a book by it’s cover” but there was no way this was your average fiction book. I skimmed a story and was sold. I’m grateful I stumbled upon this and was inspired by Lancellot’s craft! PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. The article below is meant to support writers looking for information and/or ideas. Welcome! Mild transgressive fiction — I mention in my blog post “What Is Transgressive Fiction” that I considered a lot of writing to be transgressive fiction after first learning the genre some 15+ years ago. My introduction was through Chuck Palahniuk’s Invisible Monsters and I’d never read anything like it. I assumed things even in that contemporary/conversational form, or remotely risque, must be transgressive fiction. Since reading and researching more, I now understand/define transgressive fiction as a text whose purpose is to explore/critique social norms through excessive or exaggerated transgression. This focus makes it difficult for a text to really fall under a different genre, as I talk about in “What Is Transgressive Fiction.”
But where does that leave the other writing that I read that feels similar to the transgressive fiction style, but doesn’t quite cut that definition? This is where I’ve decided to coin the term “mild transgressive fiction”. It’s when a text breaks some norms, but is not focused on making a political statement through norm breaking. Or when a text is not intentional about having characters break (exaggerated) norms but instead acknowledges the broken norms that people don’t want to talk about or feel embarrassed by if they do. For example, I will discuss a short story from Miranda July’s anthology No One Belongs Here More Than You. In her story “The Shared Patio”, July has the narrator describe a living situation in which a couple rents the first floor and she rents the upstairs floor. The narrator is concerned about the use of the patio and if the couple understands it is to be both of theirs. She marks the days they use it down on a calendar and matches her time on the patio to theirs. She eventually talks to the husband and enjoys the patio with him while his wife is at work. During a conversation, he has a medical emergency and the narrator, unsure of how to respond, instead dreams that they have a very intimate conversation, acknowledging some kind of romance, despite recognizing that he is still married. In reality, the wife comes home and manages to save her husband and the narrator sort of slips away, unnoticed again. This story does not describe some blatantly shocking scene, right? There’s no rape, drugs, body destruction, nothing gory or disgusting. There’s no big critique on society. But there is transgression — it’s just subtle. The story is about a woman who watched her neighbors a little too close for comfort — stalkerish? Then she doesn’t try to help her neighbor when he’s dying (although he does survive by his wife). Then she continues to imagine him intimately, even though he’s married. All of these things go against accepted norms. And I think this is where defining transgressive fiction can become difficult for people, because like I previously mentioned, a lot of stories involve transgression — but it’s hard to define those texts (like “The Shared Patio”) as transgressive fiction, and it’s because of this. Because they are what I’m calling mild transgressive fiction —stories that include transgressions, they acknowledge them, point out the ways in which they are wrong or uncomfortable, but are not necessarily a story about them, or not critiquing society through them, or not trying to create change through them. These actions are instead just a part of the story, or maybe about a theme unrelated to social norms. The thing is, this kind of transgression is sneaky, but is more relatable. Way more people are going to have experienced paying too close attention to ‘a neighbor’, or dreaming of someone in a taboo way, than say murder. My review for Here in the World by Victoria Lancelotta (coming this Wednesday!) addresses her stories as such texts, discussing ‘politically’ and ‘socially’ incorrect things, but in a more subtle way than other transgressive fiction. PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. The article below is meant to support writers looking for information and/or ideas. Welcome! This past Wednesday, I made a post about Bodies and Permissions: Breaking Rules & Conduct. In that post, I introduce the use/abuse of the body in transgressive fiction and why it makes sense. In this post, I briefly talk more about how bodies can be used to break boundaries and create social commentary in transgressive fiction, and provide some specific plot points and statistics that could be used in creating a story that uses the body as a tool.
Coco D’Hont (2020) discusses Chuck Palahniuk’s deviation from the term transgressive fiction, and his comment on how it is no longer received well or exists post America’s 9/11. D’Hont thinks transgressive fiction is still alive though and she critically explores transgression “As a philosophical concept, moving beyond simplistic definitions of the concept as an umbrella term for any type of shocking or socially unacceptable behaviour, or fictional renderings of this. Instead, transgression is explored as a mechanism which (re)develops central social ideologies” (D’Hont, 2020, p. 8). I agree that transgressive fiction isn’t, or shouldn’t be, shocking for pure shock value. I suppose someone could write those stories, but I believe they’re way stronger when they have purpose behind them. What message is the author trying to send to a reader through this imagery? And that’s where craft comes in. D’Hont (2020) explores a variety of craft choices that five transgressive novels employ. One that she discusses frequently is seen across the five texts: the use of the body. Like, she specifically calls out the body as a craft choice. As I mentioned earlier this week, body violation is common in transgressive literature — but it makes sense; it is one of the only things that we will permanently own during our lifetime and the act of violating our body disrupts that. This act can symbolize multiple forms of loss that are relevant to a variety of American ideals making it a strong example of transgression. The interesting thing, though, is that even the other craft choices she identifies in transgressive fiction still revolve around the body. She also explores constructed hierarchies through the use of an “other”. In the novel Hogg, for example, she describes the character Hogg who is portrayed as physically filthy and running a rape business (which relates back to what I discussed in my post on Wednesday regarding the IBM layout of hierarchy). Then, she discusses the ways in which the novels explore societal complexities. This includes Beloved’s redevelopment of the perception of race and gender. The body keeps coming up. It’s used to create pictures, meaning, and messages. (Side note: D’Hont argues that these three craft choices demonstrate transgression’s role in shaping society, and how it calls attention to situations by creating exaggerated, aesthetic systems where the authors reveal, destruct, interrogate, and reform “the ideological structures of their extra-textual content” (p. 16) but that it doesn’t create change. The research I do considers how to use techniques like these three in combination with others to write stories that can create/impact social change. I haven’t yet discussed it on my blog — I will soon!) In the meantime, here are some ideas for destroying/harming the body to get you started writing a transgressive story. As I offer plot points and statistics below, I do it in hopes that you may incorporate them into a broader discussion, rather than just a dark story for dark story’s sake. BUT I also recognize you’re your own author and can do whatever you’d like. So here you go. Just a *few* examples of ways the body can be damaged or crossed to demonstrate transgression. Examples/Plot Points
from RAINN:
From NCADV:
PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. The article below is meant to support writers looking for information and/or ideas. Welcome! With about 8% of the American population being blind, the other 92% of people will often first be introduced to other humans through sight. What does this mean? It means when I meet you, I first see what I think your gender is. What your skin color is. What your age is. If you use any assistance for disabilities. How you dress. If you have piercings or tattoos. Your size (relevant to height and weight). The kind of face you’re making (do you look pleasant or angry?) (among other things).
So now that I’ve looked at you, all of these things I just saw connect to previous assumptions I’ve made about people who look like that. This shows how “Human bodies are both biological and social in nature.” Bodies and Permissions: Breaking Rules & Conduct Now that I’ve used your body to assign you an identity in my mind, I decide what permission that gives me, and this, folks, is what makes bodies so usable in transgressive fiction. Transgression is an act that goes against a law, rule, or code of conduct; an offense. If I’ve determined how I should interact with you or what I am allowed to do to you or the ways I can treat you based on your identity (or perceived identity), this may not align with what’s fair to you. This may, in fact, be harmful to you and could be an “offense”, right? It could act against an expected conduct, like the conduct of just being a decent human being who doesn’t hurt others. But by invading others’ bodies, by showing those bodies damaged or destroyed, in the way that transgressive fiction often does, those stories are sending a message about identity and permissions. This website talks about identities and permissions with IBM (International Business Machines), a technology company. It’s not talking about humans at all, but it breaks down the definitions and boundaries from a technology standpoint so well that it coincidentally aligns perfectly with what I’m talking about! So even though we’re talking about humans here, I want to look at IBM’s discussion. We start with roles: “Role hierarchy -- Roles can be hierarchical. One role might act as a parent role to another role. This role hierarchy is provided by this query subject. It can provide the role details like ID, name, description; and it provides similar details for the parent role.” And then we talk about how the hierarchy of roles offers details about identities: “Identity role attachment This query subject provides details about identities that belong to a role. These roles are associated to a project” And then we start diving into entitlement and membership qualifiers. With membership qualifiers, they say, “The users, who qualify based on those attributes and values specified in the rule, are part of the role or are associated with that role.” So what happens to those who don’t qualify for the group? This is where using the body to create identities can turn transgressive– How do people react to others who do not belong to their group? IBM says that “Permissions are part of or are associated to a role. Permission can exist in a hierarchy.” And often times, people will decide what permissions they have based on the identity they’ve assigned you. So as transgressive writers, the body is a perfect tool for exploring the breaking of permissions, of transgressive acts, of autonomy and social structures. Examples of using the body in transgression include: Tampa by Alyssa Nutting Explicit description of sexual acts with an adult woman using a child’s (multiple children’s) body for pleasure. This story makes us consider power, manipulation, and what does or doesn’t count as permission. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis The main character, seemingly put together and doing well (as an investment banker) by American standards, repeatedly brutally murders a variety of people in the novel. The horror of all this isn’t because of what the novel itself writes about, but the society it reflects. Boy Parts by Eliza Cark The easily hate-able narrator uses men’s bodies in her photography to flip gender roles and demonstrate her own self-destruction. Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk The story shows multiple acts of violating/harming the body: male strangers fighting for the sake of fighting, using lye to create burns in the skin, the threat of death through project mayhem catastrophes… This book considers the body, consumerism, and what is important in life before we die. Hogg by Samuel R. Delaney This novel shows multiple characters who participate, graphically, in murder, child molestation, incest, necrophilia and rape among other things. All of which deal with power and permissions (/lack thereof) of harming another’s body. And so many more. Violence and sex are often used as tools in creating a transgressive novel because it’s easy to abuse the body. Use someone else’s body to harm them, hurt them, damage them — physically, psychologically, and emotionally. Many laws or social rules of conduct can be broken through these behaviors, which is why oftentimes transgressive fiction employs these acts. What are other examples of body-violation in transgressive fiction that you can think of? Check out my follow-up post with graphic ways the body can be used in transgressive fiction. PREFACE: If this is your first trip to my blog, I write a lot of transgressive fiction and my blog posts are resources for other transgressive writers. I offer book reviews, transgressive topics for inspiration, research on social change, and creative writing techniques. www.shannonwaiteauthor.com The review below is meant to explore this novel as a transgressive fiction text. Welcome! Okay, so, wow. Yes. I got caught up in reading Tampa and felt so uncomfortable - in a way that I’ve never felt when reading a book before.
Tampa by Alyssa Nutting is about Celeste, a 26-year-old, ‘bombshell’ middle school teacher, who is sex obsessed — but not with her husband or other men (or women for that matter) — but with adolescent boys. The story follows her first year and a half of teaching middle school, and selecting boys to sleep with. I will be the first to admit that I like weird, dark stuff, but Tampa by Alyssa Nutting was something else. Every sex scene (which took up a large chunk of the book) was written like a regular sex scene, something that could be found in an adult romance/erotic novel or a movie. In one way, this way of describing the sex Celeste was having made the scenes seem normal after a while — the author did not shy away from it — which also led to me feeling disgusted when I’d remind myself it wasn’t normal because these were kids in the scenes. That’s where the complications of this book lay — a story in normal language, relatively ‘normal’ events, but with characters who should not be in those situations, participating in those events. Sometimes I had to replace the boys with adult men in my mind to read the scenes. Nutting does not spare readers of any dirty details or fantasies that her narrator has. Nutting expertly weaves in Celeste’s obsession and manipulations, making her interactions with her students (and other adults in the novel) obviously disturbing. This book was especially hard for me as a former high school teacher. It had me feeling completely ‘wrong’ for even reading it — but that’s what makes this book excellent. It’s disgusting, but expertly executed to make it disgusting. I read a lot of transgressive fiction, but have never felt as repulsed by it as this one (and I recognize part of that is my own experiences impacting my feelings — other people’s experiences might have them feeling disgusted with other books) but it did something that most transgressive fiction actually doesn’t do to me. So while this one grossed me out when most books or movies don’t, and I can call it disgusting, it was great. Throughout it, I still wanted to know what was going to happen (although I did feel the ending could have been fleshed out a little more). Nutting does a great job creating her characters. With the first-person narration, we get to understand the way Celeste’s mind and manipulations work. Nutting also creates an easily hate-able main character, but in a story so rooted in injustice, that I was left desperate for some sense of justice so it kept me engaged and reading. If you’re up for something dark and for an engaging read, I recommend this book. This book is a perfect example of where Coco D’Hont (in her book Extreme States: The Evolution of American Transgressive Fiction 1960–2000, 2020) talks about transgressive fiction not prompting social change. Tampa is certainly transgressive, for so many reasons, though I can’t imagine it redeveloping society and pedophiles. Not every story is meant to change people though, right? Sometimes a story is just a story, for entertainment, to convey information, whatever. (But sometimes people might want to change something in society, so that’s where my research falls. How could someone write a transgressive story that can make change? Still working on the answer to that… In the meantime, we get books like this that continue to bring its readers closer to all parts of humanity.) I’ve seen other reviews compare it to Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita and I can agree that they both have a pedophile using manipulation, but I will say I was actually much more engaged in this book than I was when I read Lolita, and this one disgusted me more. Again, maybe because it hit so close to home with my own gender and professional career. Tampa had me feeling dirty and intrigued. If you don’t think you’re morally above this ‘wrong’ behavior, and interested in something that could make your skin crawl, I definitely recommend this. I bought my copy off a used book website and was surprised to find, when I got it, that I had actually gotten someone’s signed copy. As Nutting herself so aptly says in her comment to “Gavin”, enjoy this awful book. What Is Transgressive Fiction? I mean, what am I talking about when I say transgressive fiction? (Seriously.) I’ve read books that are called ‘transgressive fiction’ for over fifteen years, and as I grew more serious about my own writing, I did some digging to find more writers in this genre and techniques to enhance my own writing. I’ll say that finding information about transgressive fiction is difficult — it’s either virtually nonexistent, or hidden under so many Google pages that it’s hard to actually find it. The most common response I’ve read when a handful of bloggers have answered that question is a definition from Wikipedia and then their own redefinition. I suppose I’m doing the same thing here, except I’ll leave out the Wikipedia definition because it’s not really important. I figure though, if I’m going to write a whole blog about this genre — about its authors and books, about writing techniques, about ways to use this genre to change society — we should all understand what the genre is. How I Got Into Transgressive Fiction My first introduction to transgressive fiction was in high school. I’d read some Chuck Palahniuk (but that’s probably true for a lot of people). I’m not all that original. It started with Invisible Monsters because a music-obsessed friend of mine had learned that some of Panic! At the Disco’s songs were about this guy’s books and recommended it to everyone he knew after reading it. We haven’t talked in over a decade now and he unfortunately passed away last year, so he doesn’t know how much his recommendation changed the trajectory of my reading and writing life. I fell into a rabbit hole of Chuck’s books after that: Haunted, Fight Club, Lullaby… I fell in love with the weird, raw, and big fuck-you-critiques to society that I found in his writing. I read somewhere that Chuck’s writing was called transgressive fiction, so that was it for me. That was the genre. Because I’d never read anything quite like his before, I considered anything that was similar- edgy, conversational, and experimental- transgressive after that. Eventually I’d find other books with similar tones or characteristics, but weren’t quite transgressive and would learn that it wasn’t just those things that made up transgressive fiction. So what was? I finally came to learn what the word transgressive meant (I’ll admit that I wasn’t certain of the word on its own when I was in high school) and I’d realize that plenty of stories had transgression in them, but didn’t read the same way as Fight Club. Were they considered transgressive fiction? Starting the Research After reading Coco D’Hont’s book Extreme States: The Evolution of American Transgressive Fiction 1960–2000, I started doing a whole lot of research this year (2023) on transgressive fiction, social change, and a myriad of related topics. D’Hont argues that transgressive fiction reflects society but doesn’t change it. She might be right (particularly if we’re talking about the ‘kind’ of transgressive fiction that Chuck and his contemporaries write), but her claim felt like a challenge. Even if, when I thought about it, Fight Club obviously didn’t change corporate America or manhood, I guess I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted to think that writing could create movements and impact change. Anyway, this prompted a deep dive into research to define the topic, connect things, and create a formula more or less, that will simplify writing transgressive fiction that actually creates social change. This blog will, at times, follow some of this research. In the meantime, here’s the beginning of that research in defining transgressive fiction. Defining Transgressive Fiction In D’Hont’s book, she refers to what Palahniuk, a face of ‘transgressive fiction’, has said about the genre he’s so famous for. D’Hont says, “He defined transgressive fiction as fiction “in which characters misbehave and act badly […] commit crimes or pranks as a way of either feeling alive, or […] as political acts of civil disobedience”, characterizing his own oeuvre as fiction that uses antisocial behavior to interrogate sociopolitical norms” (p1). Palahniuk has also said that this type of writing was no longer easily accepted or welcomed after 9/11 in 2001. That being said, the base of my research has revolved around Coco D’Hont’s (2020) definition. She understands the genre as “A historically evolving type of fiction that takes on a specific form and level of importance during specific historical periods, changing along with the extra-textual sociopolitical shifts it explores” (p. 2). She argues that transgressive fiction isn’t just text that shocks or has socially unacceptable behavior, but that it develops social ideologies, and crosses between boundaries. Her view, however, still considers transgressive texts as simply reflecting society. D’Hont thinks it has the “potential to disrupt seemingly stable ideas, norms and conventions” (p. 5) but that it has “an unclear relationship to social activism” (p. 4). These two definitions seem to contradict each other. D’Hont ends up expanding on five books she considers transgressive, one being Toni Morrison’s Beloved. During her analysis, D’Hont acknowledges Morrison’s thoughts on transgressive fiction: “Morrison herself effectively denounces any conceptualization of transgressive fiction as marginal or countercultural: her work and ideas have been shaped by public debate and continue to shape this debate in return… In Morrison’s case, transgressive fiction involves a long hard look at the forces that control its extra-textual society instead of a fictional move away from the limits those forces constitute” (p81). To summarize these three understandings: Palahniuk: Fiction that has characters who misbehave and commit crimes as political acts of civil disobedience. D’Hont: Fiction that evolves and represents the sociopolitical shifts it explores. Morrison: Fiction that analyzes the limits of the world. While all of these definitions involve limits in some way, they still vary from each other. So I’ll look at a few more definitions… The word transgression itself is defined as “An act that goes against a law, rule, or code of conduct; an offense.” Blogger Mckay, in his own post that works to define transgressive fiction, talks about how even the Bible shows transgression, giving an example of Eve eating the apple when told not to. I would never read the Bible and fall in love with it in the way that I have other books more directly genre-d as transgressive fiction though. Why? What’s different? Mckay also says, “The proclivity for violence and illicit behaviour by the protagonists of Transgressive Fiction are not simply destruction for destruction’s sake, but out of a deep yearning to feel emotion, be it good or bad, and re-connect with a part of humanity that once ostracised them in the first place” and I guess that’s how I’ve always felt about it too. About a decade into me reading his work, Chuck Palahniuk was still writing. The more I read, the more it felt like his stories were overtly shocking for shock’s sake… when part of the reason I fell in love with his beginning novels were because of the deep critiques they made about society and its ills. I was no longer interested in the stories when they just felt like a show. So Here’s My Definition I’ve spent much time reading other people’s definitions of transgressive fiction, reading books labeled as such, and reading fiction books that had transgression in them that I’ve developed my own understanding of the genre transgressive fiction and use this understanding as I continue to write it and write about it. I agree with Palahniuk when he talks about characters misbehaving and committing crimes as political acts of civil disobedience. I agree with Mckay when he says that characters’ illicit behaviors are to feel understood or achieve a greater social purpose. I agree with D’Hont in that through those actions, it explores the stuff going on in society, and I agree with Morrison that through the storytelling’s exploration, the author analyzes the world’s limits. I think all of this is true and combined, makes a more comprehensive definition. I don’t think that’s it though. I think that all of those things, combined with writing techniques and contemporary trademarks (like unreliable narrators with conversational/dialectical tones, for example), are what make the stories that are most widely recognized as transgressive fiction earn that label. They criticize, feel raw, and experiment. They are multi-layered and often times jump around. That’s how we get stories like Fight Club, American Psycho, and Monkey Wrench Gang. Conclusion I’ll say that it feels like transgressive fiction was a name someone just gave his or her own writing style and it kind of stuck as others decided they wrote similar stuff, but it never rose to the level of official genre that people recognize like romance, horror, or suspense. Most people don’t know what I’m talking about when I tell them my favorite genre is transgressive fiction. I also think an English and Creative Writing professor of mine was misled when I told her that too. She noted that many stories have transgression, and the thing is — they do. But it’s not just about that, right? There are so many stories that have transgression but also fall under other genres. Mckay notes this too when he says that it often hides under bigger genres, but I think the books that get identified as transgressive fiction are as such because there isn’t really another genre they can fall under. While many stories include transgression (transgression often aligns well with conflict stories need, after all), what is referred to as transgressive fiction seems to be so much transgression and criticism, that that’s the whole point of the book, that it’s a genre in and of itself. It stands on its own. With this understanding, my blog explores transgressive topics, creative writing techniques, examples of transgressive fiction, and how to use contemporary transgressive fiction for social change on the topics us writers are criticizing. Join me on this journey of the real, raw, and wretched. I’m going to throw you right in. Slam. The metal frame of my car crunched and smashed against the car in front of me. I had been stopped and hit from behind at 75mph, jolted forward. The two women who were in my car with me died. Instantly, I think? I don’t remember. Everything I know I read in news articles and learned from other people who weren’t there. Other than not remembering the accident, I somehow ended up surviving with minimal damage (no broken bones, personality changes, or the like, although I think the chronic neck pain, arthritis in my back, and way I misplace words over ten years later are all long-term side effects). I couldn’t write though… I mean, I could, physically, but creatively I was dry. I tell you about my accident because it stopped and restarted who I am as a writer. After it, I wasn’t inspired by anything even though writing had been a huge part of my identity for over fifteen years. Two years later though, I’d graduate with my (first) degree and rediscover storytelling (since I finally had free time again and reread the stories that used to inspire me). I’d soon start teaching, and writing on the side, earning publications and awards. So hi. My name is Shannon Waite and I’m a writer, teacher, and observer of life and people. I write stories about norms, characters who break norms, and society’s wounds. It’s always contemporary, often transgressive. I’ve been writing creatively for a few decades. I’ve taught high school English and Creative Writing in Detroit for nearly a decade, and published student writing in five anthologies while partnered with Pages, a local bookshop, where our books were sold and launch parties were celebrated. Alongside my experience in teaching, I’ve got three degrees and am probably not done. In case you’re curious:
What I Write
I love transgressive fiction. I like dark, unexpected, and critical stories. Things that make me think and things that make me know people. I also love secrets, and this kind of writing always feels like a big, juicy secret. Another rabbit hole I start researching is more specifically how transgressive fiction can impact social change. Literature can have a huge impact on people and culture, and I research ways this can be done. This rabbit hole is deep and I look forward to poking my head out from time to time to share with you what I’m learning. One of the proudest moments of my life was watching my students become accomplished authors. I love working with people to think, plan, and write, and I know that I’m not done sharing all sorts of creative writing techniques with others. That’s why I’m here. My blog will be a resource for readers and writers like you — so you can dive deeper into the transgressive style and-or transform your writing into powerful pieces that engage and move. So here’s where you come in: If you love writing about the dark, or about the sensitive, or about the things that more people need to care about (or about all of the above), then this is the place for you. I give you tools to build your craft and be the writer you love reading. I hope you’ll join me and others in our journey. I will be including posts about: · Transgressive topics · Creative writing skills and strategies · Book reviews (on transgressive fiction) · Online courses (for the writers who plan to excel!) And probably other things from time to time (this is not an all-inclusive list). I truly believe that with enough tools, you can craft the stories you want to tell and I can’t wait to read your progress. Together, we’ll explore things that guide us, inspire us, and work so you can tell your stories (beautifully and effectively! And sometimes persuasively.) Connect with me Website — www.shannonwaiteauthor.com Instagram — @shannonwaiteauthor Recent Publications Hobart - "Fat Girls" PANK — If the Rainbow Exploded Oakland Arts Review — Flames |
I'm Shannon Waite and I write stories about norms, characters who break norms, and society's wounds. They're always contemporary, often transgressive.
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