From acclaimed author Jeanne Thornton, an epic, singular look at fandom, creativity, longing, and trans identity
Gala, a young trans woman, works at a hostel in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. She is obsessed with the Get Happies, the quintessential 1960s Californian band, helmed by its resident genius, B—-. Why did the band stop making music? Why did they never release their rumored album, Summer Fun?
Gala writes letters to B—- that shed light not only on the Get Happies, but paint an extraordinary portrait of Gala. The parallel narratives of B—- and Gala form a dialogue about creation–of music, identity, self, culture, and counterculture.
Summer Fun is an epic and magical work of trans literature that marks Thornton as one of our most exciting and original novelists.
Jeanne Thornton is the author of Summer Fun (Soho 2021), The Black Emerald (Instar 2014), and The Dream of Doctor Bantam (OR 2012). She is the copublisher of Instar Books and the editor, with Tara Madison Avery, of the Ignatz Award-winning We're Still Here: An All-Trans Comics Anthology. Her fiction has appeared in n+1, WIRED, The Evergreen Review, and more. More information is at www.jeannethornton.com.
My review has less to do with the subject matter, and more of how it was laid out. Epistolary novels have always been difficult for me to digest. To the filmmakers that somehow turn these into solid movies, kudos. If this book were only about Gala, I would've rated it far higher. I was very engrossed in her story, especially the parts where her abusive father kept misgendering her.
When I was in the fourth grade, my parents got me a CD player for my birthday. That day, I went downstairs and picked out my favorite of the CDs my parents had in rotation, back in the 90s. It was two Beach Boys albums on one disc, both from that wondrous year in music history, 1965: The Beach Boys Today and Summer Days and Summer Nights. I listened to that CD every night before bed for about a year, I think. And I still listen to it, frequently, to this day. As I got older, this organic obsession with the Beach Boys grew deeper and wider. I discovered Pet Sounds, of course, and then SMiLE, the band’s unfinished masterpiece of fragments and tall tales. I lurked on message boards and downloaded bootlegs on Napster. I read biographies and essay collections and scans of old Rolling Stone articles, seeking clues to a mystery, a puzzle, the nature of which was itself a mystery, a puzzle. In High School, I played the role of designated driver, subjecting drunk and high friends to the Beach Boys’ disturbing synth-pop masterpieces of the 70s, The Beach Boys Love You and Adult Child. In college, I told my friends funny stories about the band, referring to Brian, Carl, Dennis, Al and Mike on a first name basis, as if they were my friends, as if I had been there.
Summer Fun is about a band called The Get Happies, their lost masterpiece Summer Fun, and an obsessive fan—a trans woman living in a trailer in the New Mexico desert, who uses witchcraft to write herself into the Get Happies’ story. Or something. The book doesn’t feel like reading an experimental, is-anything-even-real sort of novel, but it certainly is one. In the end, I had no idea what did or did not happen, what was or was not real. Being able to spot the Beach Boys references on every page contributed to this sense of realities layered on realities. I am sure you don’t have to know anything about the Beach Boys to relate to this novel, though. In fact, I suspect that if I knew less about the Beach Boys, the novel would have felt clearer, if also perhaps less layered.
At its heart, Summer Fun is about the way that art can invite a dangerous and thrilling kind of identification between artist and listener, viewer, reader. Each of us—each obsessive Beach Boys fan, each obsessive fan of anyone—has, in our minds (to use Jeanne Thornton’s words) an “unfair mythic projection” of the artist. An entirely imaginary human being, produced at the intersection of our mind and theirs, forged in the experience of listening, watching, reading.
Summer Fun is about using art to run away from reality. To escape. It is also about using art to find yourself, to connect, to become real and solid. It is about dreaming both of those things into existence at the same time, and then watching them battle it out for your soul. It is heartbreaking, many-layered, strange, troubling, magical, a little manic, and very, very sad.
[Previous remarks: A trans novel about the Beach Boys? I truly do not understand how it is possible that this exists and yet I haven't already read it.]
Jeanne Thornton's Summer Fun is the trans fiction I have been waiting to read, and I am so glad it is here.
Gala is a trans woman living in the New Mexico desert who finds herself with a trans friend, Ronda, who she doesn't really want to be friends with, and a girlfriend, Caroline, who can't quite seem to understand Gala. With the background of these rough-and-tumble queer friendships, Gala tells two stories through letters written to a rock star of old, Diane, a trans woman who tried to be herself before society was ready for her. Gala recounts Diane's coming to terms with her own transness all while helming one of the biggest rock bands of the 60s and 70s, the Get Happies. Ironic as the name is, neither Diane nor Gala can seem to find happiness as they struggle to understand themselves as trans in a world that doesn't want - get? - trans people.
Summer Fun is a beautifully written story of trans friendship and life transition. Thornton communicates inner experiences in a noteworthy fashion and in a way that is rare in contemporary fiction. And though the format of the book is odd (and admittedly does not really make sense) - it is written in letters and told in second-person voice -, the narrative itself is moving. This book will at times have you laughing and at times have you crying and in the end it will leave you happy - joyous even - that you read it.
By the end of 1966, Brian Wilson had already been working on Smile for months. Recording the unfinished album—one of the most infamous in all of rock music history—had been a mired process from the beginning. It was made all the more complicated when Wilson decided to start recording his “Elements” cycle, four songs devoted to earth, water, air, and fire, striving for as much sonic authenticity as possible. When recording the latter element’s song, Wilson had his musicians wear toy fireman’s hats and told the janitor to start a fire in a bucket so he could record the sound of crackling wood. A few days later, a building near the recording studio burned to the ground. Wilson feared that his “witchcraft music” was the cause and stopped working on Smile shortly thereafter.
Jeanne Thornton’s latest novel Summer Fun, released in July by Soho Press, blends the myths of ‘60s surf rock and witchcraft with alchemical effect. Set in 2009, the story is told in a series of letters written by Gala, a trans woman in her mid-20s living in New Mexico, to her rock idol B—, the reclusive lead singer of her favourite ‘60s surf-pop band, The Get Happies. At a virtual book launch hosted by Brooklyn shop Books Are Magic, Thornton said she chose to write an epistolary novel after she was inspired by the tone of her own coming-out letter to a dear friend. “There was a raw and weird energy in there that was intriguing,” she said.
Summer Fun is titled after The Get Happies own unreleased album, an ironic title choice considering that the book takes place from September to January, with very little “fun” occurring for any of the characters. One of the most impressive aspects of the novel is the authenticity with which Thornton writes about music-making, as well as the often volatile power dynamics that come along with the territory. While fictional music narratives can often come across as fake or melodramatic, the story of B— and The Get Happies is fully realized and believable, largely by Thornton’s tapping into The Beach Boys’ real history and mythology alike. Asked why she chose The Beach Boys to draw from for the novel, Thornton said, “There was a lot of intensity with fans of The Beach Boys. I definitely think their music has a deep, magical quality to it.”
Through her letters, Gala tells both B— and the reader the story of the group, at first, a surf rock band of brothers, relatives, and friends in the early ‘60s, managed by the boys’ father. As Gala writes,
“Here is what is going to happen to you. One day, you are going to grow up. You and your cousin Tom Happy will form a band. Your brothers will join you in this band; a neighbour will too. This band will be successful beyond what you or anyone considered possible. You will work extremely hard, and through that work you will produce albums that people will continue to listen to fifty years after their release.”
As the decade progresses, the band goes from recording conventional, simplistic Americana hits to sonically sophisticated records that change the course of rock recording history. Much like The Beach Boys did by transitioning from hits like “Surfin’ U.S.A.” to the aural mastery of Pet Sounds, The Get Happies go from recording songs like “Diner Girl” to seeking more experimental sounds during the process of recording Summer Fun. (Thornton’s pitch-perfect fake album titles are laid out in The Get Happies discography that opens the novel, with 1999’s The Get Happies Say God Bless America To Our Musical Heritage so accurate it made me laugh out loud.)
Summer Fun’s greatest sleight of hand is how Thornton expertly takes the myths of both the ‘60s and rock history and subverts them. While the early ‘60s are often characterized as an idyllic time of post-war boom for white Americans contrasted with the violence of the decade’s end, Thornton makes it clear that there was nothing simple about its early years. Even for a character like B—, a successful musician in a popular band, there is nothing easy about living up to the rock-solid expectations of 1960s masculinity. B—’s father, also The Get Happies manager, is emotionally and verbally abusive to B—, who learns to cope with this pain through self-harm at an early age. Just as Brian Wilson struggled with undiagnosed schizoaffective disorder and manic depression, The Get Happies’ B— also struggles with mental health, one topic among many considered ultra-taboo at the time.
Thornton said she was not only inspired by The Beach Boys for Summer Fun, but by Connie Converse, a little-known ‘50s American musician who disappeared in 1974. Although her music was not widely known or released until the 2000s, she is credited today as one of the first singer-songwriters in the Western pop-rock tradition. The myth of Connie Converse is translated through the character of Mona, B—’s wife. Despite also being a musician and leading her own band, The Pin-Up Dollies, Mona’s success is overshadowed by that of her husband. Mona and B—’s sexless marriage is one of convenience, an illusion for the two of them to maintain heteronormative normalcy, as Mona tells B— that she is a lesbian (Converse was also believed to be a lesbian, although this has never been confirmed). B—’s success takes an enormous toll on Mona, who is forced to continue to work at a record store while B— continues the Summer Fun recording experiments. Eventually, the two come to blows, with Mona telling B—,
“If you were a girl, you wouldn’t be me… You wouldn’t be you, either. You’d never have learned to play the guitar, or had friends tell you were good enough to write songs, or had anyone with money want to pay you for your songs, or fucking kids, fucking kids in the music store dragging their girlfriends, their wives in by the fucking wrists… who come up to the counter to buy an album your face on it.”
Still, B— is suffering just as much as Mona is by the gendered expectations of their marriage. As Thornton stated, “Participation in the world is not something you get for free, for all women.” While much is made of B—’s history and myth, Gala writes of Mona that “few biographers seem concerned with where she goes.”
The tension between Mona and B— is echoed in the relationship between Gala and Caroline, a cis lesbian with connections to The Get Happies who Gala starts dating at the beginning of the novel. Their relationship, as well as that between Gala and the only other trans woman in town, Ronda, is one of the few ways that the reader learns anything personal about Gala.
But even though Gala is telling the story, her story is wrapped up in the same one as B—. As Gala writes, “Remember when I said I wasn’t going to tell you anything about my life story? But I will tell you this: I’m an American. Exactly how much of my story can I separate from yours?” In Summer Fun, Jeanne Thornton not only subverts the myths of ‘60s rock but shows the dedication of fandom and the transformative magic of our obsessions.
Enjoyed this review? It originally appeared as a part of my newsletter about contemporary literature and pop culture from a queer woman's perspective, Why's World. Read more and subscribe at www.alannawhy.substack.com
Thornton makes magic with this book, which is the first I’ve read that truly makes me think, wow, this might actually be the great American trans novel. As other reviewers have noted, it’s written in epistolary form, with contemporary trans girl Gala corresponding, spiritually, with mysterious trans musician B—/Diane as she endures identity crises + industry bullshit in the 1960s. But a brief summary of the events of this book — or more accurately, the events the texts in this book document into existence — really doesn’t accurately portray what Summer Fun is doing.
This book is a conjuring. It is speculative fiction in the sense that it’s speculates not on what isn’t now, but what isn’t here but might very well be elsewhere. Brilliantly, Thornton has created a writer-cipher aware of her authorial role yet powerless to control it, meaning that Gala is the subject of her own imaginings even as she commits them to paper. Part of what makes this process so effective is what Megan Milks described as “‘you’ as a trans pronoun”: Thornton has an intimate understanding of transness as worthless without its relational context, without interlocutors to engage it. This is precisely the power Gala has within the text: to bring Diane into trans relation, even as she struggles with her own relational ties to cis and trans women alike.
Summer Fun is a powerful, clever reminder that we cannot exist without myriad moments in spacetime outside our individual grasp; that we are entries in a vast trans archive even as we imagine ourselves to be free agents. Summer Fun completely turns ongoing discourse about trans speculation / investigation on its head by presenting the speculative not as a drive to master some imagined newness but instead as a process of courting what has not arrived, or which will truly happen, but only in the possible tense.
I'm torn on this one. I think Thornton's writing is beautiful and insightful, and in theory I love the concept of this book: a contemporary aimless trans woman writes letters to the lead of a fictional 60s band leader a la Brian Wilson, whose life turns out to intersect with hers in unforeseen ways. But I had a lot of trouble connecting to any of the characters, although I can't pinpoint why. I feel like others may have a very different experience with this book, especially those with a particular interest in that era of music. It may be an issue with me as a reader rather than the book.
Genius work with the epistolary form and "you" as a trans pronoun, here constructed to pair both the intimate warmth of direct address and also the protagonist's remove/dissociation. SO GOOD! and painful, and complicated. Beautiful writing. Five stars, infinite hearts.
This was such an interesting read! In 2009 a trans woman named Gala is writing letters to B—, the leader of a popular band from the 60s called the Get Happies. Gala shares information about her life, and the life of a woman named Caroline who she starts dating. But a lot of the letters are also filled with the story of B—, the Get Happies, and similarities between B— & Gala’s lives.
In the beginning I was getting a bit hung up on how Gala would know all of these extremely personal details about B—'s life, and why she was writing letters to that person telling them things they already know. But I just decided to stop caring about that aspect of the storytelling and then I fell in love with the plot. Both Gala and B— are compelling characters. I enjoyed getting the look at the leader of a band who was creating art and music in the 60s that was still impacting people decades later.
In her blurb, Torrey Peters said that she suspects it will come to be known as “the Pet Sounds of trans literature” and I totally get that comparison. It’s a little bit experimental, but also completely full of emotion.
Definitely check this out if a cross section of queer stories, trans stories, and classic rock stories sounds interesting to you.
Thank you to the publisher for providing a copy of this book through a Goodreads giveaway. All opinions are my own.
For those of you who have seen “Say Anything” I will ask you to summon Lili Taylor’s character in that film and then imagine that she wrote and published a novel. This is that novel. The main character, and it certainly seems the writer, are a quivering ball of angst and hurt feelings and intelligence and unrealized potential. (If you haven’t seen Say Anything, cancel your plans for the evening, fire up the HBOMax and get on that. It is, with apologies to John Hughes, tied with Clueless as the best teen romantic comedy ever and is also the second or third best Cameron Crowe movie.)
This book is filled with good ideas, and with some really well written passages. That said there are some fatal flaws.
First, the entire structure makes no sense. This is an epistolary novel, all letters going in one direction, from a trans witch named Gala to a fictionalized Brian Wilson. In the letters Gala tells Brian about HIS life. A. How would she know all this detailed info about his experiences; and, B. Why would he need to be told the particulars of his own life?
Second, the book is overwritten. Thornton is the Bob Ross of writing. She has talent, there is a moment when there is a beautiful product, but the artist does not know when to stop? For example, there is a line where Caroline, a yawn-worthy manic pixie dream girl who Gala crushes on, asks Gala to feel her head for fever. When asked how it feels Gala's first thought is “sebaceous” which is funny, but then she continues “it feels like fried food.” First, that makes no sense and second you just said she felt oily, why say it another way? Thornton does this over and over. It takes away the punch of the prose and makes what should have been a 275 page book into a 432 page book.
Third, the characters other than Gala are cliches, and not good ones.
There are some great concepts/themes here. I liked the look at fandom and the ways in which people might use that process to define their identity to to invent parallels between themselves and famous people or characters to make them feel like they themselves have worth. Also, the book has many sparks of wit well-deployed. BUT my god this needed an editor so badly! An editor might make some sense of the weird decision to report your imagination of someone’s life to that someone. An editor would also take out all the detritus – Thornton cannot think a word without including it -- and would excise the long portions of this where absolutely nothing happens. (There is a reference to Warhol’s film Sleep, and that seemed apt - -that film consists of 5 and a half hours of watching John Giorno sleep.) An editor might also have helped to make Gala's friend Ronda and romantic partner Caroline matter to the narrative other than as ways to set up series of events.
All that said, i look forward to reading more of Thornton's work. She has talent I think and a unique voice. With a good editor and an understanding that a book should not include every thought you have (unless you don't think a whole lot which is not the case here) I think Thornton could write some great things.
There can never be "a" Great American Novel, but in my personal canon this is certainly one of the Great American Novels. Sad, funny, magical, idealistic in a rough-edged way that acknowledges we may never quite reach the lights for which we strive, that reaching them will not negate the pain and loss which came before.
I was telling someone the other day that I find it strange how, in online queer circles, the idea of "tenderness" has become synonymous with both saccharine, cutesy, hollow positivity and a self-absorbed inability to extend the same compassion to others that one gives to oneself. For years, I have used "tender", as an adjective, to describe the precise opposite of both these things, especially when talking about art and literature. To me, a novel that displays tenderness is one willing to explore some of the deepest, most painful, and most intimate human emotions without a protective coating of irony or detached distance. It's a novel that's never glib about the ways people are hurt, and the ways they hurt each other. And it's a novel that displays compassion and empathy towards even its most difficult, abject, or morally appalling characters. SUMMER FUN is exactly such a novel. I'm so glad it was written and published.
Content warnings are listed at the end of my review! I was given an advance reader copy by the author in exchange for an honest review. I’d love to thank Jeanne again for this opportunity!
Summer Fun is intensely almost beyond words for me, as this book was packed to the brim with a lavish and complicated world that summaries can’t do a full justice. As I’m writing this, my head is still in a whirl after reading, but it has me wanting to run back and read it all again. Just seeing the premise, following a dedicated trans woman fangirl of a 60’s band with complex lore spoke to me and my interests, but the book goes so deeply beyond that exploring identity, abuse, coping, community, ignorance and more. The well stacked cast of the book gets intimately profiled, painting such a detailed picture of humanity and it’s struggles.
This is a collection of Gala’s letters addressed to the 60’s band Get Happies leader, B—-, in attempt to meet this reclusive artist, each varying in contents and cast. Sometimes we follow Gala's current life working in a small town hot springs hostel, her one friend and fellow trans woman Ronda and the drama she provides, and her encounters and tumultuous relationship with a mysterious cis woman and travelling videographer named Caroline. Other times Gala looks into the past at the Get Happies, narrating B—-'s life and her journey through her childhood and up, showing the story of her band and her growth, painting a picture of the band's creation and career behind the scenes. There is constantly fresh information to feed on, looking into the childhood of B—-'s parents, Get Happies recording sessions, fleeting but impactful encounters B—- has with queer individuals, and so many more snapshots of life. These moments tie directly back to Gala, her environment, and motivations in the present searching for answers to mysteries in the Get Happies history.
The lives Gala describes all play into her and B—-'s journeys of self, often bringing in elements of magic, spirituality, superstition, and otherworldliness. Despite this, there's still a very raw capture of genuine emotion, not shying away from awkward, embarrassing, painful, and humble moments. It really helps the characters feel more real, like Gala nerding out and painting thrifted figures to be the Get Happies members, her inner monologues of anxiety and anger around cis women being ignorant, and her exhaustion of trauma bonding with Ronda on trans topics. None of the characters are perfect, each of them having both very sympathetic aspects as well as deeply flawed behaviors. Altogether it provides a truly honest, down to earth, gritty and detailed look at trans life in the recent and distant past, and how certain privileges and surroundings deeply impact each experience.
Genuinely, I fell in love with this book completely. The amount of intense detail never failed to knock me off of my feet, from the full discography of the Get Happies outlined at the front, to the illustrated album covers dividing the parts only helped to fully immerse readers into the band. Even the thoughtful mark of a trans author in cleverly avoiding outright mentioning characters deadnames, while making sure the reader understood what was happening was a comforting sight. This trans representation was earnest and so phenomenally done that it brought me to tears. Even Thornton's writing style was something I quickly fell in love with too, with its incredibly descriptive nature, using embellished allegories to really heighten the setting and tone. The passion put into this story absolutely comes out through its words, and it left me with a new favorite book.
Summary Readability: ★★★★☆, Using letters as a format with so many perspectives made reading a very easy experience, almost like reading an anthology of connected lives. I only take off one star because this book has a lot of recurring graphic domestic violence, physical and verbal, as well as detailed dysphoria depictions. Overall, the themes of this book are difficult and dark, this isn’t a casual happy story despite the title! Being aware of the content warnings is crucial before diving in.
Entertainment: ★★★★★, I set a daily reading goal to finish this book in a week, and ended up blowing that goal out of the water with how much I struggled to put this book down! The freshness of changing perspectives that provided excitement, while still tying into each other in a way that keeps you mystified and satisfied had me hooked. There is so much to take in that I took an incredible amount of notes, and I say that enthusiastically! Quickly, I became deeply invested in Gala’s interest in the band, and I found myself easily falling down the complex Get Happies lore rabbit hole with her.
Audience: This book really has a unique feel to me, but it’s something that deeply appealed to my tastes. If you’re someone who likes a more abstract, introspective, emotionally complicated and moody book that leaves you thinking, I’d strongly recommend it. I’d be mostly inclined to say seasoned trans readers would be the best fit, since the representations of trans identity is very nuanced, harsh, and explicit. For cis readers, it would be important to be well informed before diving in in order to catch these subtleties and understand them.
This book is ... a lot. I couldn't stop reading and was tense the entire time. The bright book cover and summary are so misleading. This is not a happy-go-lucky book about uncovering a band's secret. It's a pretty sad tale about trans life and identity. I was intrigued and compelled by what I was reading, but it was so grim. The book really showed how difficult it can be to be trans -- the conflict one may experience with others but also the internal conflict, the self-destructive actions one may take, the contradictions that arise.
In this novel, a trans woman named Gala, who works at a hostel in 2009 in a New Mexico desert town called Truth or Consequences, has been performing magic rituals regarding her favorite band, the Get Happies (essentially a fictionalized version of The Beach Boys). The band of three brothers, a cousin, and a neighbor hit the peak of their career in the early 1960s, before the leader, B---, seemed to fall out of the picture and things faltered. Gala starts writing letters addressed to B---, revealing her struggles as well as unraveling the mystery around B---'s life. The format was very odd and didn't quite make sense until the very last pages when certain things are revealed. The novel seems to hint at the occult/paranormal, at times.
I did have a bit of trouble with this book, even though it was compelling. The characters -- every single one -- are living absolutely terrible lives. Wealthy videographer/vagabond Caroline, a blue-haired manic-pixie dream girl, rolled into Gala's life and had a connection to the things Gala was trying to piece together. While not trans, she also had a pretty tumultuous life. And Ronda, a trans woman and friend of Gala, was often dismissed and ignored by Gala. It was odd yet understandable as to why there would be a rift. But it was infuriating. Everyone seemed to create so much unhappiness for themselves.
The story of the Get Happies was really intriguing. But that was ultimately frustrating, as well. It was probably meant to be to show that not everything can be happily-ever-after. But, jeez. The family was so dysfunctional and emotionally effed. I don't know what the heck was going on with the cousin, Tom, but he giving off predatory/maybe-incestuous vibes the entire time.
Verdict The writing is so good. I highly recommend this book. It's just ... really grim. There's a lot of angst: trans angst, lesbian angst, possibly asexual angst. The exploration of it was, and is, important. But this novel felt emotionally draining in the end.
This book is bananas! I’m so pleased it exists and really impressed it works. It’s the kind of book where if you described it to someone they’d kind of look askance and be like huh? But it works! Both Gala and the Brian W figure are endearingly human and very different from each other. And it’s a truism but what carries the story is Gala’s cunning, human, very wise voice. She is full of feelings and compassion, you kind of just want to be her friends! I also adored Rhonda and Caroline—it’s actually kind of rare for me to remember characters names, but I do here. It’s the kind of book that you’ll just remember for years. The kind that will become a cult classic. I can’t overstate how ambitious and singular the book is.
Also, as a trans woman, I’d be remiss in saying I really identified with these characters and their struggles, and it’s just kinda nice to see yourself in a book! But obviously most people who buy the book won’t be trans ;)
this was almost overwhelmingly good and i think it might be one of the best things i’ve read in a long time . def the type of book i’m going to think about over and over again
It’s hard to say I “loved” this novel - I often found it difficult to stay with but was absolutely wrapped up in it, intensely curious and eager to know more. Summer Fun hangs in a place I’ve never encountered before in a novel, exploring suspended possibilities and suspended disbelief. It’s told exclusively through self-conscious, self-interrogating projection that is also, just as much, an elaborate form of magical ritual. And it leaves the scene whenever our characters seem like they may become less thwarted. There are no victories here, not really, and its attention to non-victorious life is absolute. As a document of trans life, and as a portion of the trans imaginary, I think this is makes it as fascinating as it is slippery. We don’t see beautiful losers, Genet-like antiheroes, introspective heroines, or suffering objects of pity. We see a lot about people’s interior lives, we see their small struggles, but it feels less about what a “person” is, and more about what Will itself is, how it makes and fails itself through us, as impersonal as the ocean or space.
Thornton’s observation of her characters is fantastic and really rough. Everyone’s frailty, their cringey affectations, their selfishness is laid out precisely, and almost entirely without humor. This is unnerving! It called me to attention over and over, denied the chance to laugh and dish and forced to grapple with what these lives want. I sense that you could find humor if you wanted or needed, but it would be hard won.
At times I did feel it dragged on a little long, especially in the latter half of the novel. This may just be a “me” thing because I had less interest in the transition narrative, but there was an element of shaggy dog story that I often noticed. This is a beloved queer mode, what with our dreamy thwarted lives and all, but there were moments where the lack of resolution felt less well executed. Summer Fun is packed with imagery, seemingly following some precise structure of meaning, but as much as B—‘s elaborate productions they don’t quite add up, stay out in the weeds. This seems deliberate, but I am overly literal and it bugged me.
All in all, really, really good. Disarmingly weird, and challenging in ways that I find fresh. And at the least, a well told story about interesting people. Made me listen to Brian Wilson and Connie Converse again with fresh, changed ears. Delighted that the author read the audiobook too - her reading was excellent and it feels important to have the story told through a trans woman’s voice. Thanks Jeanne.
(And p.s. I swear that using the word “transsexual” in 2009 is anachronistic! I never knew anyone who used it seriously back then, and when we were camping we’d usually use the T slur or use weird constructions like “a transgender.”)
In Lewis Shiner's Glimpses, a man magically gains the ability to imagine music that his favorite classic rock bands might have made but never did. The narrator's fantasies of unrecorded songs by The Doors or The Beach Boys are so vivid that they begin playing out of his stereo until he finally records them to tape and preserves them for history.
Jeanne Thornton has the same magical ability to create parallel realities in her new novel, Summer Fun. But in Summer Fun, the unreleased recordings blasting through speakers are played by a band that never existed (at least until now): The Get Happies.
Gala, the Get Happies' biggest fan, works at a hostel in Truth or Consequences, NM for room and board. Her life is lived through her languorous letters to B—, a rock & roll icon whose band has long since broken up. Through her incredible one-sided correspondence with B—, Gala paints a gorgeous portrait of herself and a long, secret history that is both real and unreal.
Summer Fun is a book about what it means to write a letter to someone you love but will never meet. It's also about the self-discovery that unrequited love can bring: both joy and pain.
Do you remember when you were a teenager and loved some stupid band so much that you felt like you knew everything about them, maybe even more than they did about themselves? If you've ever felt that way, you should read Summer Fun. And if you haven't? Then you should definitely read Summer Fun.
Last night, this novel won the Lammy Award for Transgender Fiction, so — discovering I'd already picked up a copy a couple months ago — I stayed up late to finally read it, and let me tell you, it is REALITY MAGIC
I started Summer Fun in October 2021 and put it down shortly after, just under 30 pages in. Last week, I felt someone calling me back to it—maybe it was Gala and her conjuring—and I had to finish the book. This is among my favorite trans books I have read (next to Nevada) because it is so radically different from the other trans books: it is not primarily trans. But it also is? I can’t describe this book as anything other than a work of genius. Thornton is as good a summoner as Gala, the way she creates the reality of the Get Happies. When I was reading the book I kept looking up the Get Happies to see if I could find any semblance of their existence, any way to put myself into this world Thornton has created, any way to align my universe with this one. The framing of the Get Happies’ story as a 2nd person epistolary from a super fan is the perfect way to create a real fictional band (especially if that super fan is trans). Another thing I love about this book is its implicit then see of intergenerationality. This is my favorite topic to be explored in books (understandable considering Girl, Woman, Other is among my favorites) and Summer Fun builds on the theme so well throughout the book that I was genuinely convulsing by the end. This book has me in complete awe. I have been trying over the last couple months to write a trans epic. I’ve been facing difficulties with it because I’m subconsciously trying to write what’s already been written. Nothing like Summer Fun has never been written before, and for this reason I am inspired to keep trying to write this epic. Summer Fun is a slow burn. But when the flame catches, you’re in the studio, the Impala, the trailer, the hot springs, the pentagram. 5/5
"I am writing a teenage symphony to God,” Brian Wilson told a group of dinner guests in 1966, referring to SMiLE, a record he was working on that would be the follow-up to Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys. It would become a tortured, legendary record that was discussed far more than it was actually heard; bootlegs were shared, rumors were spread, and it became the greatest rock ‘n’ roll record never made. Without the release of an actual album, the legend became a decades-long repository for imagination, which is where Summer Fun (Soho Press) comes in. This incandescent new novel by Jeanne Thornton is about B—, the musical genius behind the 1960s surf-pop group The Get Happies, who reached a profound level of success and is toiling away on the unfinished opus, Summer Fun. The novel unfolds in a series of letters written to B— in 2009 by Gala, a young trans woman and super-fan living in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, and working at a hostel with hot springs... READ MY INTERVIEW WITH JEANNE IN BOMB MAGAZINE HERE! https://bombmagazine.org/articles/jea...
Loved it. I grew up on 60s surf music and one strand of the book is a lovely evocation of that era, and asks what it would be like for a trans woman to survive in that world. That story is bracketed by a trans woman in the 2000s who has an obsession with a certain sixties surf band. That part has one of the best accounts in fiction I've seen of the difficult friendships trans women make with each other when nobody else will have us in their lives. Moving and revealing.
Opaque, intelligent, breathless, beautiful. The omniscient first person is a unique achievement. Also, this book may hold the record for most bathing/soaking/swimming in anything I've ever read.
I don't believe in magic. But that doesn't mean it's not real. This is what I always tell people before I perform any rituals, chant any prayers, draw from my tarot decks—things I try not to do unless I'm alone or very intoxicated. "I have to be drunk to do this," I'll also say, adding, "That's why they call it 'spirits.'" I come from a long line of witches on my mother's side and generations of diviners on my father's side—water witchers from the hills of Appalachia. I don't know if I believe or not. But I don't think that always matters.
Having read this after A/S/L, I'm noticing magic as a prominent theme in both. Summer Fun is about magic but it also is magic, a spell Jeanne Thornton is casting on us. The epistolary format, every letter addressing you the reader, it's almost like hypnotism. Rarely am I sucked this far into a book, where I feel like I'm standing in someone's shoes, looking through their eyes, the way I was with Summer Fun. The way I was with B⸺ .
I was never much into the Beach Boys, but I had been trying to remedy that earlier this year. Starting with Pet Sounds, I've been working my way forward into the weirder, less commercially successful stuff. It's still mostly not for me, but there are true moments of beauty and magic. Now I'm going back and listening again and I feel like Summer Fun has taught me so much more about the Beach Boys. I'll really never be able to look at them the same, especially Brian Wilson.
I think I would have loved Smile. Maybe Gala was right. Maybe it would have fixed me. Now, I'm suddenly struck, months later, much harder by Brian Wilson's death. I listened to "'Til I Die" last night and cried.
There's so much more to say about this book. A/S/L was far more personal; it felt like it had been written for me, specifically. But Summer Fun might be the best book I've read this year, maybe in a long time.
Hard to put into words why this one didn't work for me. I read the first quarter in one sitting, without meaning to, lured in by the near-hypnotic narrative heaviness and colorful, if somewhat overwritten, prose. "Wow," I thought, "it's been a while since a book captured my attention so forcefully." Then I put it down for a week. Every time I thought about picking it up, I was filled with low-level dread.
For a book named Summer Fun, it's entirely lacking in any real fun. The irony gets even worse when you consider the kind of music, fandom, and even lifestyle it's seeking to capture. I don't mean to imply it had to be a barrel of laughs to be any good, just... there's no real humor at all, be it black or bleak or sharp. There's no excitement in retelling the story of becoming a superstar. Or in excavating fandom secrets. And this makes the narrative feel oddly flattened-out, despite the acrobatic prose. Neither Diane nor Gala seem to find joy, any kind of joy, in anything. All they really seem to feel is the relief of release, and so did I, once I allowed myself to skim liberally through to the end.
And without the joy, there's a basic disconnect with what draws us to obsess over art, either creating it or re-contextualizing it. Without the joy this isn't really a story about fandom, or reclamation, or even, I'd argue, discovery. Again, this did not need to be a fun book. But the lack of anyone having any fun at all made me genuinely question why the characters were in this position to begin with; why are we enduring all that despair in the first place, if there's not even the idea of joy to at least chase after? What convinces us is that it is worth all that, even if we turn out to be wrong? You can lead me anywhere, with a little hope. But I need at least a little bit.
The book feels like a sketched outline that skimps in filling in the silhouette with color, dimension, detail. Which is not a good thing combined with the fact it also feels overwritten. I feel like the author is still struggling to find what she's trying to write about, beyond the multitude of unorthodox ways (epistolatory but not really, second person but not really, lines like the laughter collects like raw pearls in the oyster shell of her thin nostrils, and then each one drops in shrill nasal HAs, like jewelry breaking, which, if you're a fan of that analogy, forget everything I wrote and go read this book) in which to say it.
Not sure if I will ever be able to fully articulate my thoughts on this one, but it's incredible. As unexpected and alienating as it is deeply personal and relatable. Kept me mesmerized in a way that I rarely feel but always seek when reading. This kind of rich prose usually gets in the way for me, but not here.
I loved how it explored parasocial relationships and how it showed the ways someone else's story can so strongly affect your own, not least in the bold choice of second-person storytelling. It remains ambiguous in all the rights places, then strikes the reader with direct, vulnerable, emotionally fraught passages a minute later.
Heads up: Knowing a bit about 60s pop music, especially the Beach Boys, especially Brian Wilson, will definitely enrich the experience. Not necessary but it unveils a layer to the novel re: the relationship between fiction and reality that I found fascinating. Maybe watch Love & Mercy first at a minimum.