Conundrum

by Jan Morris

The writer Jan Morris has led an extraordinary life. Perhaps her most remarkable work is this honest account of her ten-year transition from man to woman - its pains and joys, its frustrations and discoveries.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Biography, LGBT, Queer, Gender, Transgender

148 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1974

About the author

Jan Morris was a British historian, author and travel writer. Morris was educated at Lancing College, West Sussex, and Christ Church, Oxford, but is Welsh by heritage and adoption. Before 1970 Morris published under her assigned birth name, "James ", and is known particularly for the Pax Britannica trilogy, a history of the British Empire, and for portraits of cities, notably Oxford, Venice, Trieste, Hong Kong, and New York City, and also wrote about Wales, Spanish history, and culture.

In 1949 Jan Morris married Elizabeth Tuckniss, the daughter of a tea planter. Morris and Tuckniss had five children together, including the poet and musician Twm Morys. One of their children died in infancy. As Morris documented in her memoir Conundrum, she began taking oestrogens to feminise her body in 1964. In 1972, she had sex reassignment surgery in Morocco. Sex reassignment surgeon Georges Burou did the surgery, since doctors in Britain refused to allow the procedure unless Morris and Tuckniss divorced, something Morris was not prepared to do at the time. They divorced later, but remained together and later got a civil union. On May, 14th, 2008, Morris and Tuckniss remarried each other. Morris lived mostly in Wales, where her parents were from.

Reviews

[Flo · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm surprised that there isn't more talk about this book, especially during Pride Month. Written in 1974, it is one of the first books that discusses what it means to be trans. It is much less outdated than people say and surprises with the naturalness of the transition from male to female during that time. The story was less dramatic than I expected. I believe Jan Morris was very fortunate to receive the support of the loved ones on her journey.

The rating reflects my difficulty in being impressed by non-fiction books, especially memoirs, but it is a book that I recommend to those interested in the subject.

[Red🏳️‍⚧️ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Understanding my identity as a transwoman came about for me in the late 2000's, and thus most of what I read and learned from was on the internet and not set down in ink and binding. Of the trans memoirs I've held in my hands, this ties with Jamison Green's Becoming a Visible Man as my favorite. Whereas Mr. Green's is a more political, academic and recent work, and is imminently more suited as inspiration and fodder for the kinds of public speaking work I've been fortunate to engage in, it is also a work that betters helps me understand who I am now, as opposed to who I was for those first 20-or-so years.

Who I was for my first 20-or-so years was frightened, confused. I had no terminology, no ability to use rationality to heal myself, no notion of the trans movement or even the belief that anyone existed with my affliction other than poor me. I would not meet a person who self-identified as trans, or even hear the word "transgender," until I was in college. So in those bright brief moments where I was not hating myself and permitted my mind to envision my desires, what did I see? I saw a beautiful red-haired woman who held me from behind, eyes closed, her chin on my shoulder. She would tell me that it was okay, that she and I would meet one day. Sometimes, she had wings.

Author Jan Morris, transitioning as she did in the 60's and 70's, did not have the internet, or books, or movement. She had instead her mind, her desire, and a psycho-spiritual flare for processing the universe that was her omnipresent guide. It is her very lovely brain that means oh so much to me. Because I will never be that person who did not know the word "trans" again. I will never be that scared girl who stayed alive because of the images and visions her brain gave her to keep her going. To make her believe in...in anything, anything at all. Anything that wasn't you were born, you will die, and always in between shall remain unfulfilled.

This book is wise and insightful, filled with words by an old soul, and is a valuable text because it isn't born out of our current debates between whether trans is real or not, whether a minority's rights are worth affirming or not, whether we should call ourselves this word or that word. While there are older stories of gender variance than this, this for me is my ur-trans narrative. A pre-everything story that is as different from our trans discussion now as a shaman's tale over bonfire is from a vlog. It is an important chapter in a history that has too few entries and long-form memoirists whose works were put down before the 80's.

Do give this beautiful work the time of day. It is short, as filling as a big dinner, and as warm as a cuddle.

P.S. My undying thanks to Wilton Barnhardt for referring me to this work many years ago. I needed it, then as now.

P.P.S. Kim Fu's recent fiction work, For Today I Am a Boy, is likewise recommended if you enjoy trans-related books in this vein. And if you enjoyed this or Mr. Green's book, I would also recommend you check out Letters for My Brothers: Transitional Wisdom in Retrospect.

[William2 · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a story! Superficially it's a tale of gender affirmation. But so much more. It's revelatory to hear how author Morris came to understand that she was in the wrong body. But during the many years of what she calls her conundrum, she joins the army, travels widely, marries and fathers five children. Morris was the only journalist to accompany Sir Edmund Hillary's expedition to Mount Everest. There's a sequence on how she gradually made her news public, painstakingly it turns out, for Morris was highly social and the reactions of almost everyone are given. What the memoir reveals is how she handled the information mentally and emotionally, and came over the course of many years to act upon it. My only quibble with the book is the author's too frequently declarations of her happy life. Henri de Montherlant said "happiness writes white." Morris's many recapitulations on this theme are hardly reassuring. Certainly this is something she as a writer should know.

[Rachel · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book as a whole is primarily of interest for historical reasons, and the second half is largely a desperate attempt to reassure a patriarchal society that her transition was no threat to it.

That's an understandable response to the pressures Ms. Morris must have been under in her time and place, but her description of her life post-transition is by turns tedious and excruciating to read now, and it was poorly timed in its day — cisgender feminists spent the rest of the seventies quoting Ms. Morris's autobiography any time they needed to bludgeon trans women for existing, and the image of trans women as inherently reactionary and anti-feminist lives on long after the people who chose Ms. Morris as representative of every trans woman have died or faded from relevance.

Having said that, this book is a fascinating landmark in trans literature, the first modern entry in the (now overstuffed and cliche) genre of trans autobiography. And it's easy to see why Ms. Morris has had such a successful career as a travel writer: every setting in the book is described in such loving detail that it's easy to slip into seeing the world around her exactly as she saw it. I came for the historical interest, but this book made me want to read more of her prose on its own merits — though I might prefer a book whose gender politics are less painfully dated.

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a beautiful, articulate and sensitively written memoir. Jan Morris held me spellbound, whether describing a scene in the Welsh countryside, or talking about college life or career journalism, or finally seeking surgery after living as a woman for a while.

She writes most eloquently on her gradual transition/transformation from male to female and explores how this affects and changes her own thoughts and behaviors and how others' perception and treatment of her change.

Morris confirms what I suspected, that we are a long way from equality. She writes, "We are told that the social gap between the sexes is narrowing, but I can only report that having, in the second half of the twentieth century, experienced life in both roles, there seems to me no aspect of existence, no moment of the day, no contact, no arrangement, no response, which is not different for men and for women."

When Morris first appears in public as a woman in Wales, folk that have known her most of her life as a man greet her, "with that accomplishment of performance which is the national birthright, [they] simply pretend not to notice."

[Jordan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had to read this book for my Gay and Lesbian English Class, and it isn't a book that I would have naturally picked up. However I really was taken aback how much I enjoyed reading about the transition the writer made from James to Jane. How it felt to be a man in Wales for 45 years and the to appear back in same village that narrator grew up and was suddenly a woman. I was very much fascinated with the parallels between being a man in society, and that of being a woman in society.
It really is a sweet story, and a very easy read. Manny I think you would enjoy this book you should put it on your pile to read.

[Lynne King · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wouldn't normally read this type of book as I'm not particularly interested in transgenders but after reading "Mad Honey" by Jennifer Finney Boylan and Jodi Picoult, I was intrigued enough to do so.

I hadn't realised that Jan Morris was in fact James Morris, the celebrated Welsh historian, author and travel writer and also to read that his wish as a young child to be a girl quite mesmerised me. It appeared he had a fixation as he wished it so much. Still he knew that he would never be a mother and so he did the next best thing and became a father with five children.

He married for the simple reason that he met and truly loved Elizabeth, as she was his soul mate. Each knew what the other was thinking. Still, apart from this he divorced his wife, who remained a lifetime friend as he still wished to be a woman. He felt he had to do this and started hormonal treatment as a beginning to his transition. Then in 1972, at the age of 46, he went off to Casablanca in Egypt where he underwent gender-reassigned surgery. He, now she, was absolutely delighted with the outcome as she now had identity, something that had been missing from her life since she was a young girl.

I still find it difficult to understand James' logic to change gender. But then we are all different and we live in different times now. I blame the internet and the social networks one hundred percent for this as everyone is so open with highly personal things that are happening in their lives. Not at all the same environment as James Morris who had such dramatic surgery at the time in 1972.

"Conundrum" was her first book published under the name of Jan Morris in 1974.

I found this to be fascinating memoir on a subject that I know so little about. Also the fact that finally she returned to be with Elizabeth, her former wife and they stayed together in Wales until her death in 2020 quite moved me.

[Emma Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

A memoir of transness written before gender affirmation became a heavily politicized issue. A window into another world. Clear, occasionally provocative, and always beautiful.

(If you decide to pick this one up, be aware that the perspectives in this memoir are very much Of Their Time and can get uncomfortable. For me, that was part of why I found the book so fascinating. But I figure I should toss out a warning so you know what to expect.)

[Christine · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5

I read this book for my book club but had a pre-existing interest in better understanding transgenderism. I found Morris’ style generally pleasant, but for me, the book was tainted by her classism, racism, even sexism, and her seeming lack of self-awareness in these areas (or maybe she is self-aware and intentionally condescending). I enjoyed reading about Morris’ marriage/relationship with her partner Elizabeth, whom she was forced to divorce after having sex reassignment surgery but with whom she continued to live; I would have liked to have read more about Elizabeth and their relationship. I’m not sure that I’m leaving the book with a better grasp of transgenderism, especially in light of the end of the book in which Morris asks: “Would my conflict have been so bitter if I had been born now, when the gender line is so much less rigid? If society had allowed me to live in the gender I preferred, would I have bothered to change sex?” These questions aren’t explored in depth; I hope to do other reading where they are.

[Bionic Jean · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing book, which I first read in 1974, when it was published to a surprised world, and then again four years later, as this paperback.

It deserves a review, but this is a temporary note as Jan Morris has just died today, 20.11.20, aged 94.

RIP Jan Morris.

[Nigeyb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Conundrum chronicles Jan Morris’s transition from male to female in an era when discussions of gender identity were far less mainstream or accepted than they are today.

I imagine that when this 148 page memoir was published in 1974 it was an original and unusual tale of a trans person trapped in the wrong body. Fast forward to 2024 and it is more familiar terrain.

It’s an interesting story, fascinating in parts, however I can’t help but conclude that it could have been more compellingly told.

It’s as a historical document that this scores most highly. Jan Morris was a pioneer who navigated her struggles with identity, belonging, and authenticity in an era when there was no roadmap, vocabulary, or social acceptance. She was brave and courageous.

Jan Morris is clearly erudite yet employs a somewhat dry and detached style making the book’s tone feel distant. We learn a lot about her internal world yet there is little about her emotional state. I frequently wondered about what was not said, or Morris’s reliability as a narrator.

Perhaps symptomatic of the era it was written, Jan Morris is also shockingly and surprisingly traditional and unreconstructed about gender, gender roles, equality, and ethnicity.

Appararently when Conundrum was first published it sharply divided opinions. It was a bestseller but also attracted ridicule and was condemned as mawkish and coy. Germaine Greer dismissed its "self-indulgent impressionistic prose" and, commenting about his wife Elizabeth, "Elizabeth's unbroken silence is the truest measure of Jan Morris's enduring masculinity" ("Dead right,” Morris's daughter Suki said later).

Upon finishing I did some research to try to understand more about Jan Morris which is where I found the information in the previous paragraph. Other information I came across suggested an alternative narrative at odds with this account. It all appeared to confirm there were significant missing details and inaccuracies. This tightly focussed memoir clearly could have been something richer, more honest and more rewarding.

3/5

[Bonnie G. · Rating 4 out of 5]

A touching, honest beautifully written telling of Morris' relationship to gender, to her work as a chronicler of the world, and to her beloved family, and all the ways in which those things are intertwined. So much of this was radical when this was published in 1974. We have become accustomed to seeing gender as something separate from biological sex and from sexuality, but then the public just saw a whole mess of perversion or weirdness or sickness exemplified by Norman Bates or as a freak show type of marvel as exemplified by Tula. Morris though is just a regular upper-class Brit whose life was pretty charmed. Morris was of a good family, found a kindred spirit of a wife and built a good family, presenting as a man she had a favorable military posting, belonged to an exclusive men's club, and was able to support her brood traveling to exotic locales and moving about with the ease and comfort of a colonial gentleman. As John, still in her 20's I think, Morris was a part of Edmund Hillary's first expedition and thereby immediately made her bones as the first reporter to scale Everest. Morris had a lot to lose by sharing with the world that she was female, by living as a woman, by bombarding her body with hormones at a time when there was little science to support that approach or to support an understanding of the effects and side-effects. Eventually, she jetted off to Morocco for gender-confirming surgery performed by a doctor who seemed pretty sketch.

Though it is true Morris had a lot to lose, her privilege also made her life possible. She understood her privilege, and wrote in passing of others who endured a great deal of suffering because they were rejected by family and friends, lost careers, were looked at as pariahs, and had substandard or non-existent medical care. Morris's family was uniformly supportive, especially her ex-wife (Britain did not allow them to remain married once Morris changed her legal gender but they stayed together as the loving heads of a large family and partners for 70 years, until Morris' death in 2020.) and her four living children. Most of Morris' friends and colleagues were also supportive, though of course many viewed her as an oddity. Her work went on and she and her wife had family money, so there was no significant economic toll.

Things have changed a lot since Morris transitioned. It was hard to read how essential bottom surgery was for Morris. She makes clear that she was mostly asexual, looking at sex as required for procreative purposes only so there was no need for her to have a vagina. Given that, the removal of her penis took on outsize importance. Had she lived now I expect she would see that differently. Also difficult was her need to differentiate herself from homosexuals and cross-dressers whom she clearly saw as a bit tragic. This is all inference, but between the lines it appears her asexuality may well have been a reaction to not wanting to be seen as a homosexual. She speaks of romantic, possibly sexual, attraction to other men when in the military but after that just says that there are other ways to be sensually connected to another person and that sex (with her wife) is just a required activity. Also difficult at times is reading about what men do and what women do - she is very stuck in the gender binary, and is really kind of sexist.

This book is dated, but it is also an important foundation for understanding gender and gender difference, It is also a great read. Anyone who has read Morris' travel writing knows she is a fantastic writer, and her writing has never been better than it is here.

[Perkimom · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found this a tedious read, more about the author's travels than in-depth thoughts and feelings about the issue of her transgender issues and life. I was expecting to be more educated and I wasn't even really entertained. Brave soul but not my favorite book by any means.

[sevdah]

Jan Morris is a very good writer and we're just lucky she decided to also write about her transition as a transgender woman. It's a deeply personal memoir of someone who ultimately fought for her right to be happy as herself, and carry on loving life on her own terms. Especially interesting here were the pages describing how people's attitudes changed with her gender - how she was thought to be a good professional when passing as a male, and then (in her 40s) started being a slightly silly "good girl". (Her own ideas about what she could or could not be were deeply influenced by that, of course, and let's not forget the book was written more than 40 years ago; for example she mentioned how she never pursued a career in politics because it seemed too "manly", or stated that women can't really feel the satisfaction of climbing Everest.) It's a good book with a fair few pages on travelling and adventure, but mostly it's about people interested in gender and identity.

[James Hartley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Second reading and just as impressive, if not more so, the second time. Very relevant, too, in these times of debates on gender and sexuality. Jan Morris, born James, knew she was a female trapped in a man´s body from the age of three. It took her half a life to make the physical change and this book is about that process. It is fascinating to read so talented a writer on such a fascinating subject: Jan has lived as both a man and a woman and here she describes how that feels, the differences within and without.
A fascinating, valuable, impressive, honest book.

[Clara Mazzi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Autobiografia di uno dei primi transessuali. Jan Morris (James alla nascita) studia a Oxford e poi diventa uno storico e un corrispondente estero. Si sposa per amore diventa padre di cinque figli ma arrivato all'età di 35 anni decide di cambiare sesso, affermando di essersi sempre sentito una donna. Inizia un lungo percorso che lo vede poi agli inizi degli anni Settanta a compiere l'operazione. Un tema potenzialmente molto interessante, purtroppo ridotto a quasi niente dall'ostinato rifiuto dell'autrice che vede (in maniera molto British) l'auto analisi come un atto di auto commiserazione. Fermamente convinta che la vita vada presa "chin up" e alla strenua difesa della positività, confermando un'infanzia e un'esistenza felice e soddisfacente, pur tuttavia ha sofferto molto di questa identità mal placé di cui però non ci viene fornito praticamente alcun insight. A ciò si aggiunge una strenua descrizione di un mondo famigliare (sua moglie e i suoi figli) "perfetto" (scivolando con estrema velocità su ogni cosa che potesse mostrare qualche crepa, da uno dei figli - forse - un po' più difficile degli altri alla morte per malattia di Susan ancora bambina). Il tocco finale che me lo ha davvero reso indigesto, è stato il suo paradossale apprezzamento dell'inferiorità della donna che lui sostiene di provare sulla sua pelle dopo l'operazione (testuale!! "her inferiority is her privilege" o "I regret my manhood when it comes to getting a job done properly"). Un libro che ha perso una grande occasione di fornire molteplici spunti di riflessione importanti: l'identià, la ricerca di sé, la famiglia, l'amore, la condizione della donna all'interno della società. Non permette allora di capire perché Jan Morris l'abbia scritto.

[Tania · Rating 2 out of 5]

Dull, too much travel writing for me. Very dated in its discussions of women roles in society, and intriguingly but disappointingly something which Jan seems accepting of. Valuable from historical perspective.

[Alberto Jiménez · Rating 4 out of 5]

El cuerpo está visto como un disfraz, en la fase de la indiferenciación, cuando se encuentra hormonada sin recurrir aún a la cirugía.
...un hecho era algo de contornos bastante indefinidos y borrosos. Esta afirmación, unido a la contínua alusión de la subjetividad con que trata los temas de sus libros, sus aficiones,... Me hacen sospechoso, al menos, el aire de optimismo de toda la biografía.
Cambio de sexo quirúrgico a los 45 años.
Es difícil saber si es una personalidad buscadora de sensaciones, una homosexualidad no reconocida, o una verdadera transexualidad. Se mete en el ejército, lo valora positivamente, tiene continuos viajes, después de su licencia en el ejército, como periodista. Y aún sigue buscando sensaciones. ¿Puede ser este cambio una búsqueda de algo más nuevo? ¿De la provocación?
Hace llamadas para dejar constancia de su nueva condición de mujer. Para cerrar las posibilidades, a los demás y así misma, a la indiferenciación y/o a una vuelta a su identidad masculina.
Jan Morris interpreta que para ser una mujer hay que sumir todos los presupuestos de su nueva identidad. E incluso, se siente más a gusto cuando se prueba ropa que no termina de comprarse, hace la compra, habla de cosas intrascendentes con otras amas de casa,... Se encuentra feliz cuando le ceden el paso, le "toleran" sus ideas,... cuando le dan la prioridad del débil.
Me sorprende esto. Aceptar el papel de sumisión tradicional de la mujer y estar a gusto en él. No olvido la diferencia de casi 5 décadas con respecto a la edición inicial del libro (1976) y que la visión del rol femenino ha cambiado: desde sí mismas y desde la visión de los hombres.
¿Tal vez Jan Morris ha optado por la definición de mujer en cuanto a oposición a lo que significa ser varón?

[Katie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I knew Jan Morris was trans; what I did not know, until a lovely friend of mine lent me this book, was that she'd written about that experience. But this is indeed a memoir about her trans journey, and her life around that, and what it meant to her as a child of the 1930s and 40s. And it's really lovely.

Morris' prose always has this...I want to say delicate quality, but it's more robust than that. She doesn't mince words and she's not over effusive or purple. She is, however, very evocative. That stands her in good stead to talk about such a huge and shifting thing as gender and sex. It's not simple, and Morris doesn't let you think that it is. But she doesn't over-complicate either. It's exactly as simple and confusing as taking a breath.

It's a lovely book, and all Morris' brains and heart and life seemed to be shining out of it as I read it. Thoroughly recommended.

[Bel · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had quite a few issues with this book, but a lot of those will have to be excused as it being "of its time". It can't be denied that the writing is beautiful, and it is a valuable memoir.

[Julie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I stumbled across this 1974 memoir when I was researching new travel writers to read. (The state of the world is so depressing these days that I am focusing less on negative, heavy nonfiction & more on lighter, soothing nonfiction like travel & humor). When the article mentioned in passing that Jan Morris had formerly been the journalist James Morris but had transitioned in 1972, I was intrigued. 1972?!

After checking the memoir out from the library, I perused the Goodreads reviews briefly. I don't like spoilers but am always keen to learn how a book is generally received. There are very few 1 & 2 star reviews and all stated their concern about how sexist, classist & racist Morris is and how the memoir was not how a trans writer "should" write about their experience. Insert enormous eyeroll here. Morris is 93 years old! She was raised in an upper class, conservative traditional British manner complete with exclusive public schools, Oxford, being an officer in the military and being a member in traditional London gentleman's clubs. It would be shocking if her memoir did not display the commonly accepted views of her generation. This dichotomy between her lifestyle and her decision to transition into a woman is what I found most interesting in the first place.

In the forward to this edition, Morris explains that obviously her views have developed and grown over the years but that at the time this memoir was published - 45 years ago - this was how she perceived things. Her proclamations about the sexes, the races, the different classes in Britain can be wincingly obtuse. What is really specific to a culture, she deems true for all. She doesn't grasp that what are, to her, the innate qualities of men & women, are in fact very peculiar to her location and era. It certainly makes for interesting reading.

Morris tried to explain to the reader why she felt the need to change. She said she needed to somehow reconcile her soul with her body. Her analogy of a car's fuel indicator to the difference between sex & gender was helpful to me. Not a perfect analogy but an easy visual. The gauge marking from full to empty is like the scale between the masculine and feminine genders. The pointer represents your physical sex - body parts, hormones & chromosomes. The printed scale cannot be moved but the pointer does move. Since she is unable to change her gender, the way her soul feels, then the only recourse is to try & change the pointer/the physical characteristics as much as possible so that her gender and her form align. To make herself whole.

I liked how she stressed that the need, the pressure, the absolute compulsion to live as a woman, her true self, was not predicated on some sexual desire. She wrote how most men could not conceive of this need to be a woman as not being sexual and kept insisting it must be sexual. They wanted to know about what her genitals looked like, who she was having sex with, how exactly she was having sex etc. Morris stresses repeatedly that she had a very low sex drive and it wasn't a sexual desire at all. Several psychiatrists she visits insist she is actually a transvestite or gay in order to make sense of her need. How frustrating that must have been.

Her transformation is a part of the memoir but definitely only a part, not a huge focus. I am gobsmacked that some reviewers were irritated that she wrote about her whole life, rather than a narrow focus on her gender. Life is more than our gender!!! Morris had such an interesting life. Why should she not write about it? Why reduce herself only to her transgenderism?

She climbed Mt Everest. Hung out with Che Guevara in Cuba. Got drunk with Guy Burgess in Moscow after he defected. Attended Eichmann's trial in Israel. Fought in WWII. Attended Powers trial in the Soviet Union. Covered multiple revolutions and rebellions in Africa. Floated in a boat through Venice's Grand Canal in the middle of the night right after the war, when the city was silent & empty. To reduce her life to one thing would be wrong.

[Álvaro Curia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Se é certo que a vida de uma pessoa transexual deve ser sempre ouvida com atenção, é certo também que o facto de ser transexual não faz dela uma boa pessoa.

Mais corajosa, mais independente, até mais inteligente do que os outros, sim. Mas não melhor pessoa.

Encontrei neste relato de vida uma pessoa extremamente preconceituosa. Que acreditou que um amor entre dois homens nunca era completo pois não era possível a conceção de um outro ser. Que teceu comentários em relação aos negros que fariam o mais racista corar de vergonha, para depois, de forma condescendente, dizer que os “aceitou como são.” Que teceu comentários sobre as mulheres como seres de uma delicadeza e sensibilidade fora de série mas com quem era difícil trabalhar. Entre outras pérolas.

Sobretudo, uma pessoa que compartimentou as outras: os franceses são assim, os italianos são assado, os ingleses reagem desta forma, os egípcios daquela. Que lutou a vida toda para desfazer determinados recipientes estanques mas que, assim que põe a sua vida em livro, é precisamente nessas fronteiras imaginárias que vai moldar a sua interpretação da vida.

Não obstante, a reflexão sobre o género e o sexo, sobre a forma de tratamento da mulher e o facto de, ao passar gradualmente a apresentar-se como mulher, ter mudado também a perceção de si e para consigo, são pontos interessantes de análise e um contributo decisivo para o tema.

Ouço argumentos de que as suas observações racistas, homofóbicas e xenófobas eram fruto da época. Mas se essa ideia não serve, e bem, para justificar outros discursos do mesmo género, também não o deve servir com Jan Morris, por muito interessante que seja a história da sua mudança de sexo.

[Hillary · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Psychologically I was distinctly less forceful. A neurotic condition common among women is penis envy, its victims supposing that there is inherent to the very fact of the male organs some potent energy of the spirit. There is something to this fancy. It is not merely the loss of androgens that has made me more retiring, more ready to be led, more passive: the removal of the organs themselves has contributed, for there was to the presence of the penis something positive, thrusting, and muscular. My body was then made to push and initiate, it is made now to yield and accept..."

Whoa. The last third of this book is full of passages similar to the example above. I found it impossible to divorce the sexist attitude from what might have made the story worth reading. It came to my attention because it was referenced in Sex Changes: The Politics of Transgenderism, and I almost wish I'd declined to investigate further. If this book stood as the only existing account of the experiences of a transgender woman, we would have a much more difficult time arguing with the so-called "radical feminists" who strive to discredit the transgender community.

[ambyr · Rating 3 out of 5]

To a modern eye, this veers between surprisingly insightful and excruciatingly dated whenever it steps beyond Morris’s personal journey to comment more broadly on gender and gender relations. And I haven’t read enough memoir of the period and place to know how much is Morris’s idiosyncratic perspective, how much is a reflection of a particular slice of the British class system, and how much is broadly of its time. But it’s still worth a read to gain a sense of perspective on how much has (and hasn’t—the airport security section could have been written yesterday) changed in almost 50 years. And of course Morris’s prose is lovely, and her reflections on her own psyche inarguable and sometimes profound.

[Tania · Rating 3 out of 5]

3'6.

''Los prejuicios nos encierran, nos achican la mente, nos idiotizan''

[Kathleen Woods · Rating 5 out of 5]

An extraordinary memoir. Beautifully written. Insightful, engaging, and, I was pleased to discover, not prurient or sensational.

I hope to become a better and more educated ally, and this book gave me a deeper understanding and appreciation of the trans journey.

[Hilary G · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ex Bookworm group review:


Yesterday, I watched a documentary about Freddie Mercury, and it struck me how some people’s lives are so much more extraordinary than the lives of most of us. Such people do more, see more, say more, they make news, they are capable of influencing people in their thousands. This, I thought, is what makes celebrities (though, as a society, I think we have lost the plot about who is and is not a celebrity) so exciting that others want to know every detail of their lives. Their lives are interesting, whereas ours may be more humdrum and ordinary. Yet there are other people, not widely known as celebrities, who have lived extraordinary lives that we would never know about unless they themselves choose to tell us. Jan Morris is such a person, unless she is, in fact, very famous, and you have all heard of her. I heard of her by chance, listening to the radio on a day and at a time I don’t normally listen to the radio. I can’t even remember what was said, not very much, but the book was mentioned and I decided to follow it up. By the time I remembered, I could not remember the name of the book, but I remembered enough to find it, and it sounded interesting enough for us to read here. It was a short book (thank goodness) but I found it packed with interest, and I hope you did too.
Even as a (mere) man, Morris had a life that was full of excitement, travelling all over the world at a time when this was only common for soldiers, civil servants and the idle rich. Morris the man was a soldier and subsequently a journalist and travel writer, and was the Times Special Correspondent accompanying the team led by Sir Edmund Hillary in the successful conquest of Everest in 1953. Morris the man married and fathered 5 children. Yet, despite all this apparent proof of his masculinity, Morris felt always that he should have been a woman and took all the necessary steps, including surgery, to become one. Conundrum is the history of this journey.
I can’t pretend to understand transexualism (which is defined in Wikipedia simply as “a condition in which a person identifies with a physical sex different from the one with which they were born,”) but Conundrum leaves me in no doubt that it is a real issue. Morris was fortunate to be able to solve the conunundrum at a time when there was much less understanding of the issues than there is now and far fewer sources of help, but even for her, it is a harrowing journey, involving going to Casablanca for surgery in a clinic with its floors that were “less than scrupulously clean” and without hot water in the hand basins. Given details like this, how can one doubt that this was an imperative and not a whim?
Morris is a very well educated and widely-read person and, as such, her writing can make you feel inferior at times, which is irritating. “I agree with Goethe,” she says at the end of one chapter. “Well, bully for you!” say I. Yet, I mostly delighted in the fine writing. I could immediately picture “a retired brigadeer of lascivious tendencies and his empoodled wife,” and surely only a writer could describe the satisfaction derived from a sex change operation as being “like a sentence which, defying its own subordinate clauses, reaches a classical confusion in the end”. I loved the story about warthogs being beautiful to each other (there is hope for us all).
As well as being a journalist and travel writer, Morris is also a historian, and in many respects this book is a piece of history. Although the book was not written until 1974, she was already writing about a time that had passed into history and attitudes that would soon be consigned to the scrapheap. I smiled at her statement that she “would not want to be ruled by Africans” and wondered what she makes of Barack Obama (how amazing that only 7 years after 9/11, many Americans are seriously contemplating electing someone with the middle name of Hussein, how fast history rolls on). Social attitudes are not inherent, but learnt and Morris had to learn them at the age of 46. It is a pity though that she accepted attitudes to women with such equanimity, even claiming them to be advantageous. Even though that irked me a bit (surely she was too intelligent to accept not having her opinions listened to and being treated as an inferior?) I had to smile at one of them: “I did not particularly want to be good at reversing cars…” and will remember it next time anyone mentions women drivers and parking.

The book was an extraordinarily personal account of something many people might choose not to write (or read?) about, but its unrelentingly narrow point of view (Morris’s) left many unanswered questions in my mind. Did Elizabeth really not mind the father of her children becoming a woman? Did those children really adapt so easily to their dad becoming a second mum?

I seem to have written quite a lot about a very small book, but to me that is the sign of a good book. I enjoyed the writing (with the exception of the Goethe-was-my-best-friend bits), I learnt a lot and I was left wanting to know more.

[Luke · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5

It had occurred to me that perhaps mine was a perfectly normal condition, and that every boy wished to become a girl. It seemed a logical enough aspiration, if Woman was so elevated and admirable a being as history, religion, and good manners combined to assure us.

In the United States, there was a ruling within the past year that allowed trans people to join the military. This dubious success characterizes this book completely: those who are transgender are welcomed with open arms so long as they not only conform as much as possible to the white/well off/nonthreatening species of non-cis, but enforce the eradication of all those brown and/or insane and/or gender annihilating types who may fall under the purview of trans but do not fit within the military industrial complex. This is not to say that Jan Morris does not succeed beautifully on an individual level when it comes to her journey through the life of her self, but that her story could have done well enough sticking to her own sensibilities rather than passing judgment on others. It explains why there are a number of quotes that are wonderfully conducive to the rights of trans people of every intersecting demographic, and yet within the context of the work's entirety are constrained to a very specific type with which Morris attempts to win the public over via self-neutralization. As such, when she speaks of finding solidarity with others at a surgical clinic in Casablanca, it is unfortunate that I can probably make a very accurate guess as to the skin color and cultural norms of the majority of those empathized with.

Let's get one thing straight: this is a gorgeous piece of writing, both for how much complexity and depth it can pack into less than 200 pages as well as its prose and more macro textual constructions. That's not the issue here. What is is how many people defend their right to engage with everything on the most uncritical, and thus the most calcified and bigotry-reinforcing, perspective possible, and how that interacts with those who represent the "good" parts of a regularly maligned community. Let's say Caitlyn Jenner, a more modern example than Jan Morris, also wrote a memoir of her life, focusing on the trans aspect of her identity. First you get the people who want her dead, a judgment highly encouraged in a country where 99% of its constituents legalize the civilian execution of trans people via the trans panic defense. Then, you get the wafflers who will go with whichever flow will give them the most economic security. Finally, you get those so obsessed with pat themeselves on the back for a higher morality that they'll praise the work to the skies without questioning the other aspects that go into a trans identity such as religion, ethnicity, and socioeconomic stability. I don't mention those in true solidarity because they take up such a small percentage of the population. For example, the fact that trans people are conditioned to feel the need to "pass" is nothing but a bunch of aesthetic hogwash resulting from cis people valuing their comfort zones of socialized constructs over respecting others. When one considers the history of transphobia in the LGBTQIA movement up until the present day, there's little guarantee that the non-queer populace will be much better.

So. Should you read this? Sure, if you critically engage with the colonial/ableist/dichotomous edifices rearing their heads amidst an otherwise admirably heartfelt engagement with the personal is the political is the personal. The equating of a European city to the entirety of an African continent doesn't help trans people in Uganda, or Morocco, or the Democratic Republic of Congo. If you want to argue that the past excused this sort of writing, you should have read the book and offered your static opinions in 1974 when it was first published, not drag the desiccated corpse of faux normalization into 2016. 2017's already shaping up into a bitter repeat of what many a liberal like to say died as the result of the Civil Rights Movement, or Stonewall, or World War II, so don't waste your energy defending icons. There are plenty of living and breathing people who don't fit into the boxes prescribed by this book who have earned your solidarity many times over. Let's work with them so that they may one day write their own books and complicate the accepted picture of trans accordingly, shall we?

To me gender is not physical at all, but is altogether insubstantial. It is soul, perhaps, it is talent, it is taste, it is environment, it is how one feels, it is light and shade, it is inner music, it is a spring in one’s step or an exchange of glances, it is more truly life and love than any combination of genitals, ovaries, and hormones. It is the essentialness of oneself, the psyche, the fragment of unity.

[griff ifan · Rating 4 out of 5]

(read for my diss) BEAUTIFULLY written (cannot say this enough - the way she writes about wales is gorgeous and about transness is incredibly relatable); so surprisingly accurate in its depiction of the mental experience and feelings of being trans, given its publication in the 70s; but falls short in its questionably slightly misogynistic ideas of womanhood

[Alejandro MB · Rating 2 out of 5]

Buena historia, pero persona con aires de superioridad