Alex Gino’s novel George was first published in 2015. In response to input from the transgender community and a general shift toward more mainstream recognition of and abidance by the rules of naming and pronouns relative to transgender identities, the novel was retitled Melissa for future editions in 2021. As the saying goes, this story would smell just as sweet by any name. Ultimately, whether the edition you read is emblazoned with the name George or Melissa as the title doesn’t matter because either way, the book nails the subject matter. It may not mirror every trans girl’s experience, but it will certainly hit close to home for most.
This is not volume about the intricacies of transgender transitioning relative to hormones, surgery, therapy, cost or any of those aspects which would be expected in a story about a teenager or adult. The heroine here is firmly ensconced in the reality of fourth-grade gender conventions and expectations. Born a with penis and given the name George by parents, that heroine is not notably different anatomically from best friend Kelly as far as what is hidden beneath school clothes is concerned. The male-to-female trans experience at this stage is not yet to the point of anxiety about facial hair, hair length, or any distinguishing gender differences between males and females. It has long been far from uncommon—since the late 60’s at least—for fourth-grade boys with shoulder-length hair to be mistaken for girls or for girls with short hair to be mistaken for boys. Physically speaking, George/Melissa is still at the point where gender remains remarkably fluid and flexible; a point which many people seem to forget all about when they close their minds and cling to rigid gender conventions as they age.
And so, the main focus can be on how the main character feels with the physicality of gender expectations mainly being relegated to fashion. The opening page of his novel feature the protagonist universally known as a boy named George furtively sneaking some magazines into a locked bathroom. It is a scene not exactly unique in the annals of boys named George. Except that these are not nudie magazines, but girly advice magazines over which a girl nobody knows named Melissa breathlessly looks at pictures of girls in swimsuits not for the sake of sexual excitement and release—or, not entirely, anyway—but for the sake of wish-fulfillment. When the boy named George looks into the mirror, it is the girl named Melissa looking back. Melissa sees herself in those girls, not this boy named George that her parents think they conceived. It is clear in her mind; there is little room for doubt. Melissa knows the truth about George that not even the woman who gave birth to George knows.
Charlotte’s Web features prominently in the plot. Fourth-grade bullies also show up and wreak their vision of havoc. A mother who has already put the kibosh on cross-dressing after discovering her “son” wearing one of her skirts and pretending it is a dress due to size differential is naturally resistant. A thoroughly modern 21st century brother is refreshingly unfazed when his brother George tells him she is really a girl named Melissa. This is a transgender story firmly situated in the reality of its context. And despite the complains about names and pronouns, it is a story that nails the details at every turn. From that opening scene of George hesitantly entering the house to make sure it is unoccupied for the furtive sneak into the bathroom with the forbidden magazines to the moment when George looks into the mirror and for the first time really sees Melissa looking back—Melissa wearing a skirt in front of another person and twirling with all the confidence of a model on a photo shoot—everything about her journey is just right on target.
