Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore’s latest novel, Terry Dactyl, is a poignant exploration of entering middle age as a trans woman reared in the shadow of loss, first from HIV/AIDS and later from COVID, gentrification, environmental devastation and incipient fascism.
But Terry Dactyl is not a tale of doom and gloom. Instead, it showcases powerful friendships, hot and steamy sex, meaningful work and the importance of collective protest in fostering community. It also celebrates fashion, highlighting the power of color, fabric, and style to uplift the individual and create a public persona that attracts attention and makes a statement.
The book begins in Seattle, where Terry was raised by a drug and drink-addled, but immensely loving, mom and stepmom and a huge array of “aunts” and “uncles.” From them, Terry learned to be bold, creative, and independent. She also learned to dismiss critics as she searched for her people and parsed her values and priorities.
A semester-long stint at Columbia University led to several decades in New York City, where she found administrative work at a Soho gallery owned by an heiress. She also found romance—deep love—cut short by AIDS. This period, the 1990s, is vividly drawn. Likewise, the club scene and the many available party drugs that Terry and her friends enjoy is presented as both dangerous and dazzling.
Still, as time passes and people age, everyday life begins to change. Some of the friends in Terry’s orbit die or move away, others begin to contend with chronic illnesses and still others drift off into new social circles.
Then the COVID shutdowns hit, and Terry finds herself working and living alone. The toll of her isolation is enormous: As months pass, she becomes increasingly bereft and miserable. By now, she’s given up drugs, as have her mothers and many of her friends, and when her Seattle-based BFF starts sending her real estate ads for condos in the Rainy City, she is swayed.
Unsurprisingly, the move requires a massive adjustment since the Seattle of 2020 is not the funky Seattle of Terry’s childhood. Nonetheless, she is happy to be on the West Coast and as the Black Lives Matter demonstrations are organized to protest the police murder of George Floyd, and people bang on pots and pans for a daily 8:00 PM homage to essential workers, Terry finds her spirits lifting. At the same time, she’s aware of contradictions: Many in the queer community are unabashed supporters of the police crackdowns against BLM protesters, proud that the police commissioner who is ordering the arrests and authorizing the use of tear gas and pepper spray is a lesbian. As Terry sees it, no amount of rainbow packaging can undo the revulsion she feels over the law-and-order pinkwashing that is on display.
It’s vintage Sycamore, but Terry Dactyl minces no words in its explication of the ongoing debate over whether LGBTQIA+ people should pursue assimilation into mainstream society or develop a distinctly queer culture that does not mimic straight norms, and it is abundantly clear where both the author and her protagonist fall on the issue.
It’s well-presented and evocative.
All told, Terry Dactyl is a novel about a woman who soars despite obstacles and personal challenges. By turns perceptive, touching, and occasionally funny, the book is a deep dive into what it means to live authentically as a queer progressive. It’s a memorable read.
• • •
Terry Dactyl,
By Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore
Coffee House Press
272 pages
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