Something That May Shock and Discredit You

Back in 2018, when you published The Merry Spinster, you told an interviewer: “So much of what I’ve been working through this past year is the shift between how much do I want to disclose, how much do I want to be known.”  Something That May Shock and Discredit You is a memoir (of sorts – you’ve described it as “memoir-adjacent”) of your subsequent gender transition. Do you feel that you have found that balance now, between how much you want to disclose, and how much you want to keep private?

Daniel Mallory Ortberg: I do think I’ve found a balance that works for me a great deal of the time, although I don’t imagine that’s going to be true in the exact same sense for the rest of my life. Any writer has to consider what forms of disclosure are worth the various trade-offs, and there are times, I think, that a disclosure might feel satisfying in the short-term and less so in the long run. You don’t always know until after the fact.

I think you do a fantastic job of communicating how your awareness of your trans identity manifested – as “an inconsistent, inexplicable sense of homesickness [as if] I woke up one morning and remembered by home address, having forgotten even that I forgot it in the first place, then grown fearful and weary at even the prospect of trying to get back.” It’s very visceral, very lucid, very fathomable. Was that an intention: to express this “transition longing”, as you call it, to a cisgender audience? Or is that merely a happy byproduct?

Thank you so much – that’s such a generous and welcoming reading, and I appreciate it immensely. I suppose part of the reason I wanted to spend so much time with that particular process/self-understanding was that before that, I would have understood myself as part of that ‘cisgender audience,’ so it came as quite a surprise to me. In some ways I can look back and think of myself as someone who came to understand their own trans-ness relatively late in the game, but in other ways I can look back and think of myself as someone who for a very long time knew that there was something I didn’t yet know, if that makes sense. And I think that’s possibly true for others, not just me, and I wanted to speak to that. And of course, my god, I think almost anyone can relate to the experience of having a particular nagging, vague question that suddenly sharpens and resolves itself into something specific, even if they never transition, so part of that experience is universal. Part of it isn’t. But part of it is.

You first came to public attention as co-creator of The Toast, the dearly departed literary humour site. The Toast was explicitly feminist – I wonder, could you say a little bit about how transitioning has changed your relationship to feminism, if at all?

I was certainly aware of trans-centered feminisms before my own transition, so it wasn’t totally new to me. And it had more to do, I think, with extending to myself the same openness and inclusivity that I would have readily extended to someone else – reminding myself, “You’re not doing anyone else a disservice by transitioning, you’re not letting down any particular team by being trans, or by accepting your own physical autonomy.” And certainly my subsequent struggles trying to navigate a trans-antagonistic medical system reaffirmed my commitment to the sort of feminism that prioritizes universal access to health care.

One of the most moving passages in Something That May Shock and Discredit You deals with other people’s grief: the sorrow they express upon ‘losing’ the person they knew before transition. You write: “My hope is not to squash or censor the complicated feelings of non-transitioning people, but to reconsider the direction of their sorrow.” How long did that period of ‘mourning’ last – and did you have to re-establish old friendships after transition, on new terms?

It really has varied, depending on the relationship; although it wasn’t directly related to my transition, I’m no longer in contact with anyone from my family of origin, and my transition was certainly part of that context. I think it depends primarily on whether someone is willing to consider grief and complication as part of the project of life. And I do think it’s important to save the language of death for actual death.

You use such an imaginative use of form and humour – veering from self-analysis and analogies from the bible and the Classics, to listicles of mock Cosmopolitan headlines and back again. Could you talk a little about the place of joy and fun and comedy in memoir – which, I think, is an unusual blend, but one that works so well in this book.

Thank you so much! That’s very much a style I’ve developed over the years, so I think it’s more characteristic of my work in general than unique to the book – my attention has a tendency to wander at the best of times, and I often have trouble nailing down an idea until I’ve chased it through at least a couple of books or movies or moments in my own history. It’s fairly reflective of my mental process, I think; I tend to imagine certain ideas as being presented in mock-newspaper or -magazine style, and want to draw connections or parallels between a variety of frame stories. I like compendiums, and reference, and allusion, and want to utilize them as much as possible.

You have changed the name under which you are published twice – once after transition, and again more recently, after marriage. Have you found it difficult to maintain your ‘brand’ at all through these changes, or are audiences sophisticated enough to take it in their stride?

Oh, it’s definitely difficult! I don’t even think it’s a matter of sophistication but simple logistics – both when it comes to things like shelving in bookstores and libraries, as well as when it comes to name recognition. I know there are plenty of readers who might not follow me on Twitter or stay up-to-date on all the details of my personal life who might very well walk past my new book and have no way of connecting it with the writer they may have known from occasionally reading The Toast, or having casually enjoyed Texts From Jane Eyre five years ago. So I do my best, of course, to make announcements or draw connections in public, and my editors and agent have always been wonderful about doing what they can on their end. But there’s definitely a reason why no one’s professional writing advice is ever, “You should change both your first and last name on more than one occasion.” It makes you harder to find! That’s not to say it’s been an insurmountable challenge, and obviously I had to take that into account before changing my name professionally as well as personally, and decided to go ahead anyways. But it’s been a challenge, certainly.

As for brand continuity (or persona, or ‘focus as a writer,’ or whatever other phrase makes the most sense; I realize it’s not the same thing as a brand like the Wendy’s lady is a brand), I think that’s changed significantly over the years, not just because of my transition (although that’s certainly contributed to it, I think), but because I’ve changed a lot as a writer, developed new priorities, moved away from some genres and towards others, et cetera.

You narrated your own audiobook, which was awarded an Earphones Award from Audiophile magazine. Could you tell us a little bit about that process – and did you find your relationship with the book changed as you read it aloud?

Yes! It was surprisingly fun, and not nearly as gruelling as I’d anticipated – sometimes it can be difficult to read your own work aloud, and I worried that I’d find myself focusing on things I disliked or would want to rewrite. But it was relatively easy to let the ‘writing’ phase of the book go.

I went to a recording studio in Manhattan and recorded it in about two days, with lots of breaks to stretch and drink water. It helps that the chapters are fairly short, I think. I caught about three typos, which is honestly not that bad, so that was nice. And I love performing, I’m often very animated when I speak anyhow, so it was very fun to get to interpret my own work that day. I hope I get to record more audiobooks at some point, honestly.

Daniel Mallory Ortberg