Writing this review hurts me. I was extremely excited about Dreadnought as North American literature desperately needs more diversity and trans superhero narratives are quite rare. Unfortunately, it’s just not a very good book. Do I think that people should buy and read Dreadnought anyways? There are so few books with trans protagonists that I can’t in good faith say to avoid the book entirely. On the other hand, given the sheer number of positive reviews out there, I do think that it’s important to address some of the problematic aspects of the story.
Dreadnought is the story of Danny, a young teen who doesn’t feel like the boy everyone presumes she is. She buys nail polish and paints her toes in secret as a way trying to quiet these feelings, but is interrupted one day when Dreadnought, greatest hero of them all, is killed in front of him by the super villain Utopia. As he dies, Dreadnought passes on his powers on to Danny who finds herself suddenly transformed. Danny is finally herself, but also a superhero with some of the greatest powers that the world has ever seen. However, Danny’s life is not made magically perfect. Her family is abusive, her friends abandon her, and she’s trying to learn to deal with her powers mostly on her own with only the guidance of another teen hero named Calamity. As Utopia continues to work towards the fulfillment of her evil plans, Danny has to figure out her place in the world and whether she’s ready to step up as the new Dreadnought!
The Good
Danny is a unique and needed protagonist. It’s not often that trans people get to take center stage in literature, and it’s wonderful to see such a positive, optimistic trans girl get to be a superhero. Sure, Danny has a lot of problems in her life. She’s an abuse victim and that has real effects on her personality and self-esteem. The narrative doesn’t shy away from the terrible things that trans people face in their daily lives, but Danny is a survivor and she never gives up. She is a super hero, through and through.
The Bad
Dreadnought feels very much like a first novel that didn’t get a lot of attention from a professional editor. It’s got heart, but there are storytelling basics that are terribly handled, resulting in a bit of a frustrating read.
For example, the characters are flat. So very very flat. Take Danny, our protagonist. We should know a lot about her, yet her life is a giant question mark other than she used to play football. For a character that we spend so much time with, watch deal with horrific abuse, we don’t really get to see anything else. I want Danny to be more than tragedy and superpowers.
Problematically, none of the other characters are developed that much either. The Legion can be summed up with statements like “that man who is a plant and wants to remain financially solvent”, “the guy who looks like that Fantastic Four dude”, and “Lady Thor”. We just don’t know much about any of the superheroes save for Dr. Impossible, and she only starts to get interesting in the last 20 pages of the book! Calamity gets more development, but she is primarily a vigilante, angry at the world because of unfairness. She has fancy guns and a big motorcycle, and we don’t know much about her aside from the end of book revelations about her family.
I could contend with flat characters if they were just boring, but a few don’t make any sense. Danny has a long-term friend, David. On the first day that he sees his friend after her transformation, he is enamored with her breasts. He is not, as one might expect, freaked out by how his friend dramatically physically changed overnight. No, because she’s hot, he spends a lot of time looking at her chest. On the second day, he asks her out with a rather horrid speech about how he is ready to settle and Danny is so hot that he can forget about the fact that she is actually a boy. When Danny rightfully rejects him, he storms off screaming slurs.
David isn’t a character so much as he is a plot point. Daniels wanted to show readers the various ways in which trans people suffer, and David represents another type of betrayal. At one point, Danny questions her previous friendship with him, wondering how she didn’t see how he was so terrible. Don’t worry, Danny, it’s just terrible character development confusing people. David was never your friend because he’d have to have been a person first. Could a character reasonably ever act like David? Sure! But it would take more than 48 hours.
The time scale of this book feels off. It’s not that the terrible things that happen to Danny don’t occur in real life, but they are so squished together to get the plot rolling that these important emotional moments feel contrived. All of these incidents start to feel throwaway rather than significant. They happen, we move on, and the lesson is that transphobia is terrible and pervasive. There is little time to unpack any of them so the barrage of abuse feels both pornographic and hyperbolic at the same time.
The plot is also pretty ho-hum which is unfortunate given the state of the characters. There are white capes who are not as good as they claim, and a super villain who is a narcissist that’s trying to stop something terrible, but going about it in the wrong (evil) way. The powers that be don’t see the trouble coming and the new whippersnapper has to take care of things on her own. It’s a pretty standard superhero plot which isn’t a bad thing. But if your characters are weak, your plot needs to carry the book. Even for teens, growing up in the age of superhero movies means that this book probably isn’t offering anything new in terms of story other than Danny.
Relatedly, the science aspects of this book are lazy. In one scene, Danny has to stop a plane from crashing that should not have been crashing. She was flying in a cloud layer when a nearby jet sucks a goose into its engine causing it to explode. Right away we have some problems with altitudes and feasibility. It’s not that a goose, clouds, and a jet could never be in the same air space, but it’s not common for bird strikes to occur far beyond airports. Furthermore, while bird strikes often do cause engine failure, in Dreadnought, the large jet immediately begins to crash. Shenanigans. Jets are designed to cope with the loss of an engine, and jets are also designed to glide. One engine exploding would not have pitched the plane into a tail spin. It would have likely been fine even without Danny’s help. I was immediately yanked out of the narrative by the fact that it didn’t make sense. So fail on that scene.
Similarly, near the end of the book, Calamity and Dreadnought are sent to get some N2 or, as Calamity explains, non-Newtonian liquid. It’s supposedly not easy to get so Calamity suggests that they steal some from a university. Or perhaps they could just go to a pharmacy as shampoo and toothpaste are both non-Newtonian liquids. So is custard. You can even mix cornstarch and water for the same effect. If you’re going to have super amazing tech in your story, don’t just throw in cool words because science vocabulary sounds awesome. Make sure it all actually works or is at least plausible. (Or write clearly because this also could have been solved by stating that N2 was a specific type of non-Newtonian fluid! That was not clear in the narrative. I teach writing and this is something I would hammer my students on. Say what you mean!)
The Ugly
Greywytch. Oh dear lord, Greywytch. Where do I even begin? Greywytch is a member of the Legion. The very first thing she does upon meeting Danielle is to emphasise that Danielle is Daniel. Shortly after, when Danny corrects the Legion on misgendering her, Greywytch states “You were raised to be a man. Your privilege blinds you, and makes you dangerous.” When Danny says that she’s just as much of a girl as Greywytch, the senior superhero responds, “Do you even know how to put in a tampon?”
All of these statements are extraordinarily transphobic. According to April Daniels, they are all based on various things that she’s seen people say/write. It shows because they feel exceptionally out of place in this conversation, and the character of Greywytch doesn’t feel like a character at all.
I don’t want to suggest that the Legion wouldn’t do/say transphobic things, but given the focus of the conversation, their concern seems to be that the most important hero with the best powers is now a 15 year old and they aren’t allowed to recruit kids anymore. Greywytch’s immediate nasty commentary to a teenager that the Legion knows has just undergone a massive shock starts to undermine my suspension of disbelief. Do I accept that someone could be that cruel? Sure, the internet exists. I see that level of horridness on a daily basis. Do I believe that such statements would be made so quickly upon meeting this young 15 year old teenager in the context of a business/recruitment meeting? Not really. A few of her colleagues suggest that Greywytch stop being such an asshole, but her EXTRAORDINARILY inappropriate comments are mostly tolerated. Once again, the time scale seems off. Were these characters to interact more, the insidious nature of transphobia could be highlighted. As it stands, the scene feels contrived and constructed to make a certain point. I want stories to be political, but I want stories to tell a good story as well. And the better you tell your story, the more effective your political point will be.
For example, Greywytch is never anything other than a transphobia mouthpiece. That is her entire role in the book. Be needlessly cruel to Danny based on the absolute worst examples of transphobic feminists that the author has dealt with. She never gets to be a character which means that her transphobia is less powerful. It is obvious that she represents a type of person that we’re supposed to despise. If Daniels instead chose to make us empathise with and see her as human? Suddenly the narrative becomes a lot more complex and nuanced. We have to deal with the fact that a person who does good things also does terrible things. What does that mean? How do we respond? Given the fact that Greywytch is nothing more than a political ideology, readers lose out on this important thought exploration.
Finally, my last issue with Dreadnought, and perhaps the one that bothers me the most, centers on what it says about “being a girl”. The way that Danny is denied the freedom to express herself in certain ways is heartbreaking. But the superhero aspect of this book ends up twisting this conversation into something that makes me uncomfortable. When Danny transforms at the start of the book, it is a magical (or at least hypertech) experience. Her body changes in ways that are generally unavailable in real life. This is pure wish fulfillment. On one hand, wish fulfillment is important and one of the many things that fiction can be good for! But in this case, the wish fulfillment ends up entrenching some extraordinarily problematic ideas of sex and gender for trans and cis women alike.
Danny’s transformation starts with an exploration of how she is small. More delicate. Her fingers taper. Her shoulders are narrower. Her shoes are boats. Oh, but her hips strain her jeans now. She has nice breasts. As the narrative tells us, she’s essentially a supermodel. There’s a moment where the book tries to be critical of this, but that’s quickly passed over to delight in this new experience of a “female” body. I am a cis gender lady. I have broad shoulders. I am tall. I am large. I have been harassed since I was a child for having a man’s body. Had I read this book when I was a teen, connecting girlhood to an idealised body would have hurt me deeply. I can only imagine that young trans readers would feel the same. There is no magic in the world that will change our bodies to our ideal form. Reading about Danny’s transformation gives you a moment of beautiful imagination, then a horrible crash back to reality. It asks us to dwell on this amazing occurrence that we can never ever have.
Danny also mentions several times throughout the book that she’s subject to more emotional highs and lows because of estrogen, and that her feelings have been unlocked now that she’s a girl. This was the most offensive part of the book – the idea that being a woman means that you are more emotional. Women have been punished for this stereotype for centuries. We’re hysterical, we’re sensitive, and we’re ruled by our feelings. I can totally understand Danny being affected by the sudden change in hormones because that really does cause bodily chaos for a bit. But women are not uniquely emotional beings, and men are not emotional robots in comparison. Ironically, radical feminists, the ones that Greywytch is meant to represent, have critiqued any gender theory that sees men and women on such a hurtful binary. Women aren’t tiny creatures that hold ourselves in certain, dainty ways. Women aren’t capable of feeling more than men. To suggest such things and not have the narrative provide a counter is something I can’t tolerate from a book that aims to help those who feel marginalised. It teaches both trans and cis kids that there is one way to be a girl and that’s unacceptable.
Conclusion
Am I being unfair to Dreadnought in that I expect it to be better simply because it offers a different perspective? I remain conflicted. I don’t want to suggest that people banish the book off their shelves or protest libraries to get rid of it. I don’t want to deprive trans youth of a rare book that speaks directly to them. But I also don’t think that means that the book should escape worthy criticism. Without the trans narrative, it would not have been interesting enough for me to take notice of. It is not written particularly well, and it showcases some harmful perspectives that undermine the positivity that it could bring. For me, it was not that Dreadnought wasn’t perfect, but that its flaws were quite deep, impacting and needed to be highlighted. After all, from a critical perspective, the conversations that we have when we fail are often the most valuable ones to have in order to grow. I will be reading the sequel, Sovereign, and I hope that the conversations in that book are more nuanced than they were in Dreadnought.