Book Review: Woodworking by Emily St. James
When I first discovered Emily St. James, her deft insights into the quirks and complexities of television, particularly ‘Community,’ captivated me. So, when I learned that she was releasing a debut novel, Woodworking, I felt a rush of excitement paired with a sprinkle of curiosity. What would this former critic bring to the realm of fiction? Little did I know that this book would not just fulfill my expectations but challenge them in profound ways.
Woodworking introduces us to Abigail, a bold, trans high school student with a chip on her shoulder that’s as much a protective armor as it is an emotional barrier. Abigail’s English teacher, Erica, is also navigating her transgender identity, creating a tapestry of shared struggles and supportive moments that are beautifully woven. The small-town setting of South Dakota provides an authentic backdrop, emphasizing the isolation and rallying spirit of both characters.
What truly astounded me about the book was its grasp of identity, beautifully illustrated in the title, which cleverly subverts traditional notions of woodworking into a term for “disappearing into the woodwork.” This nuanced understanding of trans existence permeates the novel, and I found myself particularly drawn to moments like Erica’s tragic yet relatable interaction with her ex-wife. As she grapples with the decision to come out, I could palpably feel her fear—a reminder of the hurdles many face in their journeys of self-acceptance.
St. James’s writing style is another highlight. The choice to use grayed-out rectangles for characters’ dead names was impactful and inventive, reinforcing the emotional weight of their identity struggles. I was particularly struck by a set of chapters narrated in the second person as a character reflects on the duality of their existence—this narrative technique allowed me to immerse myself deeply into the character’s psyche, an experience I won’t soon forget.
Of course, no book is without its flaws, and here I found moments that gave me pause. Abigail’s reaction to her boyfriend Caleb’s college essay—a piece meant to honor her—felt exaggerated. I sensed the underlying motive to showcase the rawness of her unresolved conflicts, but I wondered if it might’ve veered too far into melodrama. Similarly, a debate scene featuring a passing character about abortion felt misplaced and muddled. Yet these moments were minor blips in what was otherwise a compelling narrative.
At its heart, Woodworking is a testament to the power of resilience and support in the face of adversity. It embraces complexities that resonate not just within the trans community but also echoes the universal themes of personal identity, acceptance, and love. It left me reflecting on my expectations of the world and the people in it—and reminded me, gently, that we’re all working on our own versions of "woodworking."
I would recommend Woodworking to anyone looking for an engaging and heartfelt exploration of identity, especially those interested in understanding the trans experience in a nuanced manner. It’s not just a story about being trans; it’s about being human, striking the delicate balance between vulnerability and strength. As I closed the book, I felt grateful for St. James’s contribution to contemporary literature—an enriching read that lingers long after the last page.