Tag Archives: Euphoria Kids

Something Like Euphoria

There is a scene in Alison Evans’ Euphoria Kids where one of the protagonists faces a conundrum I’m sure is familiar to a lot of trans people, especially those caught in between “still figuring it out” and “coming out”. The boy—as he is called throughout the novel, as he has not found his true name yet—has to fill out a medical form. This requires, of course, his legal name. But his friend, Iris, suggests that maybe he can make a note for the doctor to only call him by his surname—he’s keeping that, after all, no matter what he discovers his first name to be. It’s a small thing, but it’s a revelation for the boy and in the moment it eases his mind.

On the train home, they have this little exchange, from Iris’ perspective:

I ask the boy, “Do you know about gender euphoria?”

He shakes his head.

“I think, when you smiled after realising you could just use your last name, that might’ve been it.”

“It’s just like, good feelings? About gender?”

“It’s like… the opposite of dysphoria.”

He stares out the window, watching the shops go past. “I’ve only heard of gender dysphoria before.”

“I found out about it a while ago, but yeah. I thought I should let you know.”

He smiles, lost in thought.


(Evans 2020, p. 200 – 201)

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The Power of Whimsy and Magic in Queer Stories

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Before the rose was there, the garden was full of moss. I started as a seed under it, waiting for the right time to sprout. Clover waited, and waited, and tended the garden, and didn’t listen to anyone who said she should give up. Moss, my other mother, she waited too. But Clover was the one who came out every morning and told me about her night, what she was planning on cooking that day, how Moss was going. […]

When my first two leaves emerged, Moss and Clover knew I would be okay.

I didn’t mean to be a strange baby made of plants, but it hasn’t caused any problems.

So begins Alison Evans’ Euphoria Kids, with the narrator, Iris, matter-of-factly regaling us with the tale of the beginning of their life: intermingled wordlessly with magic and a kind of dream-logic bizarreness, and intermingled effortlessly with queer love and affection. This sets the tone for the whole book: a dreamy, whimsical tale of understated magic that is almost rebelliously committed to letting its protagonists be. Continue reading

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Filed under Alex Reads, Fun with Isms