By Bret Crowle
Transcribing Moonlight
by Skylar Kay
Frontenac House (2022)
Skylar Kay’s debut collection Transcribing Moonlight is a delicate and transcendental glimpse into the world of identity. Authenticity leaches through each page as the reader follows both the moon and Kay through the transitionary cycles of femininity and transformation. These journeys of waning, waxing, and, most notably, changing are experiences highlighted both internally and externally throughout this collection.
Rarely are the words on a page tinged with such translucent honesty—but Kay makes no mistake in conveying raw emotion to the audience. Memories, moments of affirmation, moments of confirmation, moments of uncertainty, all these things take the reader into the undertow. This collection, primarily comprised of haibun form, binds and ties the reader with lunar metaphors, seasonal observations, and personal experiences to meld and create the collection.
One of the first instances the readers feel a personal and emotional connection to Kay is enveloped in the seamless transitions between medical terminology and personal flare. From the beginning of the collection, readers are rooted in sentiments of reality and authenticity: “Spironolactone, estrace, andro-whatevers. Names blur together but colours remain distinct through my own phases and cycles” (11).
Though the collection narrows in on both the concepts of change and cyclical evolution and of loss and gain, one thing remains consistent: lunar presence. Progression of the collection only reinforces the inclusion of the moon and its phases as somewhat of a “supporting character”—the only variation with the moon is never the lack of its presence, but rather the capacity of the phase in which it exists. It is not until we, as readers, experience the inherent misunderstanding of the moonlight, as described by our author, that we begin to feel led astray: “My skin, thinner than at my first appointment—bristles against wind. What phase is the moon in again?” (64).
Transcribing Moonlight is a magnificent tribute to the journey of embracing femininity, both internally and externally, whilst simultaneously facing the antagonistic aspect. The reader is thrust into confronting the truth of heteronormative society, while having the opportunity to walk alongside someone in their transitionary journey. The use of the haibun form provides ample and accessible breaks to content—allowing readers an additional insight into the author’s mind.
And, as we are brought to the realization that this collection is a year-long diary of Kay’s experience, the resolution, as readers flutter between the reality of trans friends in a world enforced by societal notions of heteronormativity in which we all exist, lies in the comfort of the final poem on page 68:
my arm too
falls asleep
under the moonlight.
The reader can determine that we all, much like Kay’s arm, will find ourselves guided to sleep under the moonlight this evening and evermore.
Bret Crowle is an emerging writer from Alberta. She has a focus on poetry these days, though initially found her home in short fiction. She has been published in a variety of literary magazines, and can always be found with a book in her hand. If you need to find her, she can be found staring at the moon or laying in the grass in Drumheller, Alberta.