If
I've learned anything from many decades of teaching literature, it's
this: a good story entertains us on its own merits but also causes us to
look within ourselves. It can either explain certain aspects of human
purpose and existence or make us question what we thought we knew about
it - or both. Aristotle puts it a little more succinctly when he says
that the purpose of comedy is to delight and instruct. I believe that
any good story does this. And beside these two general purposes, there
are also two other factors behind the purpose of this tale.
The first is my love of the Arthurian legend, which had its seed when I was very young, watching The Adventures of Sir Lancelot, which came on before The Mickey Mouse Club.
It wasn't Lancelot who fascinated me, though. It was Merlin who held my
interest, and the mystical and magical has done so ever since. This
interest lay dormant until high school, when I was cast in the school
musical, Camelot, and the legend has been with me ever since.
The other factor has also been with me from my earliest days and my
feelings about it have been far more ambivalent. Indeed, they have often
been a source of fear and self-loathing. I didn't hear the word
"transgender" until my young adulthood, but when I did, I knew it
applied to me. The path to self-acceptance was long and beset with pain
and loss, and I doubt I will finish the journey in my lifetime. But Calogrenant
is by no means a veiled biography. My personal views about the nature
of being transgender, and my observations on my life will remain at my
Mythcongeniality blog. I will say this, though: I have said many times,
though, that being transgender makes me a mystical and magical creature.
(Others may disagree, but it works for me.)
Gillian's Cally (love that name but it's spelled wrong - jk, G!) lives in the 13th century. Although not strictly a trans-themed book, Cally was not always the maiden she is now. Read all about it and support Gillian's book drive by going HERE.
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