Kathleen Winter’s novel, Annabel,
explores the physical, emotional, and social ramifications of what is a rare
and seldom-discussed circumstance. Set in
a rural, rustic outpost of Canada’s Labrador province, the novel opens in 1968
with the birth of Treadway’s and Jacinta’s first child. Attended by a midwife and two close friends,
the delivery is a smooth one, but upon laying the infant upon its mother’s breast,
midwife Thomasina notices something peculiar. Beneath the child’s small penis
and single testicle lies a vaginal opening.
Far from sensationalizing the intersexed phenomena, Winter’s tale draws
the reader more towards empathy than fascination or shock. When Jacinta is torn between establishing normalcy
for her infant via a surgery to correct ambiguous genitalia (all factual and standardized
in real-life cases of intersex births), and the desire to let her child, both
son and daughter, develop unmarred, the reader is compelled to imagine what his
or her own decision would be. The story
progresses beautifully as Wayne (so named after the “corrective” intervention)
grows and struggles with a duality he doesn’t understand. Fearing societal
reaction Treadway and Jacinta never reveal the true nature of their child to
anyone, not even Wayne himself. Perhaps
they would have continued to remain silent, but at age 14 Wayne develops
strange symptoms and requires medical intervention. Thomasina, returned after having spent several
years abroad, then reveals to Wayne the reason for the pains in his abdomen,
his “unnatural” budding breasts, and the daily medication (explained to Wayne
as necessary for treating a blood disorder) he has taken since he was an infant.
Readers have no choice but to sympathize with Wayne and struggle to wrap their
minds around what would be a baffling and life-changing revelation (Wayne’s
medical intervention at 14 revealed yet another stunning secret). If I read another novel only half as
well-written as Annabel this month, I
will consider myself very fortunate.
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