In “Stag Dance,” Torrey Peters continues the fearless exploration of trans experience that marked her breakthrough novel “Detransition, Baby.” This collection—comprising one novella-length title story and three shorter works—uses genre fiction as a vehicle to examine the complexities of gender identity, community dynamics, and the often painful negotiations between one’s authentic self and societal expectations. Peters proves herself a master of literary genre-bending, using horror, western, sci-fi, and boarding school romance as frameworks to dissect the nuances of trans experience with unflinching honesty.
What makes this collection remarkable is Peters’ refusal to offer simple narratives or tidy resolutions. Instead, she delves into the messier aspects of gender identity—the contradictions, the complexities, and the sometimes uncomfortable truths that get lost in more sanitized discussions of trans experience. These stories are not comfort food; they’re challenging works that push readers to confront their own assumptions about gender, sexuality, and power.
“Stag Dance”: A Western Tale of Longing and Performance
The title story, “Stag Dance,” is the standout piece of the collection. Set in a remote, illegal logging camp in winter, it follows a Paul Bunyan-esque narrator known as “the Babe” who participates in a camp tradition where some loggers volunteer to attend a dance as “skooch”—men who will play the role of women for the evening. Peters crafts a surreal tall tale that expertly blends western tropes with an interrogation of gender performance.
What makes “Stag Dance” so compelling is Peters’ ability to use the isolated setting as a microcosm for examining how gender roles function, even (or especially) in environments exclusively populated by men. The Babe’s jealousy of Lisen, “the prettiest young man in camp,” becomes a lens through which Peters explores desire, competition, and the often arbitrary nature of gender assignment. The story’s dreamlike quality intensifies as it progresses, culminating in a finale that blurs the line between reality and folklore.
Peters’ prose in this story shines with rugged lyricism. She captures the vernacular of old timber tales while infusing it with contemporary insights about gender construction. Descriptions of the harsh winter landscape mirror the emotional terrain the characters must navigate:
“The whole winter forest wavering before me as in a heat mirage. Or so it appeared, before I understood that in fact all was still. That what I was seeing was the movement of shadows, as a lantern floated through the forest…”
“Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones”: A Post-Apocalyptic Reckoning
Opening the collection is “Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones,” a speculative novella that imagines a future where a contagion forces everyone to choose their gender. Set primarily seven years after this event, the story follows a survivor navigating a world transformed by what was essentially biological warfare launched by three trans women.
This piece showcases Peters’ skill in using science fiction to examine real-world power dynamics. The premise—what if everyone had to consciously choose their gender?—serves as a thought experiment about privilege, oppression, and the politics of transition. The story’s non-linear structure, jumping between pre-contagion events and the drastically altered world afterward, creates a tension that propels readers through increasingly disturbing revelations.
While the concept could easily become heavy-handed, Peters maintains nuance by focusing on complex character relationships and moral ambiguity. No one emerges as purely heroic or villainous; instead, we see flawed individuals making choices within systems that have failed them.
“The Chaser”: Boarding School Desires and Cruelties
“The Chaser” shifts gears to a boarding school setting, where two roommates develop a secret romance that spirals into manipulation and betrayal. This story demonstrates Peters’ versatility, as she adopts the conventions of boarding school fiction to explore how adolescent identity formation intersects with desire and cruelty.
What distinguishes this piece is Peters’ unflinching portrayal of teenage social dynamics. She captures the viciousness that can emerge when young people are discovering their identities while simultaneously navigating rigid social hierarchies. The story’s exploration of masculine performance—the rituals and posturing boys use to assert themselves—provides a foundation for understanding how gender norms are enforced long before adulthood.
The relationship at the center of “The Chaser” avoids romanticization, instead showing how intimacy can become weaponized when shame and social standing are at stake. Peters writes with particular insight about the fear of vulnerability that underlies many performances of masculinity.
“The Masker”: Horror on the Vegas Strip
The collection concludes with “The Masker,” perhaps its most unsettling story. During a weekend in Las Vegas, a young cross-dresser must choose between a handsome stranger with disturbing fetishes or a cynical trans woman offering a less glamorous form of sisterhood. Peters employs elements of horror to create a deeply uncomfortable examination of fetishization, community politics, and the sometimes conflicting desires that shape identity.
“The Masker” stands out for its exploration of the boundaries between gender identity and fetish—a topic often considered taboo even within trans discourse. Peters refuses to provide easy answers, instead creating a scenario where her protagonist must navigate between multiple problematic options, none of which feel entirely right.
The Vegas setting functions brilliantly as both literal and metaphorical backdrop—a place of illusion, performance, and the constant blurring of fantasy and reality. Through this environment, Peters asks difficult questions about authenticity, desire, and the sometimes murky motivations that drive personal transformation.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What Makes This Collection Exceptional:
- Genre versatility – Peters demonstrates remarkable range, adapting her voice to suit western, sci-fi, boarding school drama, and horror conventions while maintaining thematic cohesion.
- Moral complexity – No character is purely sympathetic or unsympathetic; each exhibits a believable mix of understandable motivations and troubling behaviors.
- Unflinching honesty – Peters refuses to sanitize trans experience, instead exploring the uncomfortable, messy, and sometimes politically inconvenient aspects of gender identity.
- Distinctive prose – From the tall-tale vernacular of “Stag Dance” to the contemporary voice of “The Masker,” Peters crafts language that serves each story’s particular needs.
- Thematic depth – The collection explores fundamental questions about authenticity, community, and the often arbitrary nature of gender assignment without resorting to simplistic messaging.
Where the Collection Falls Short:
- Uneven pacing – Some stories, particularly “Stag Dance,” occasionally meander, with certain sections feeling unnecessarily prolonged.
- Challenging accessibility – The stories’ refusal of easy moral framings and their deliberately provocative premises may alienate readers seeking more conventional narratives about trans experience.
- Character development imbalance – Secondary characters sometimes lack the depth afforded to protagonists, occasionally functioning more as thematic vehicles than fully realized individuals.
- Bleak outlook – While the complexity is appreciated, the collection’s overall pessimism about human connection might strike some readers as excessively dark.
Final Assessment: A Bold and Necessary Addition to Trans Literature
“Stag Dance” represents an important contribution to trans literature precisely because it resists the impulse toward simplification that often characterizes discussions of gender identity. Peters uses genre fiction not just as window dressing but as substantive frameworks that illuminate different aspects of trans experience. The collection feels particularly valuable in today’s cultural landscape, where complex discussions of gender are increasingly flattened into political talking points.
For readers of Peters’ earlier work, particularly her acclaimed novel “Detransition, Baby,” this collection will feel like a natural evolution of her literary project. While “Detransition, Baby” focused primarily on the experiences of trans women navigating contemporary urban life, “Stag Dance” broadens her canvas to include different historical periods, speculative futures, and a wider range of gender experiences.
Fans of Carmen Maria Machado’s “Her Body and Other Parties” or Jordy Rosenberg’s “Confessions of the Fox” will appreciate Peters’ similar ability to use genre conventions to explore gender and sexuality in unexpected ways. Like these authors, she demonstrates that stories about marginalized identities need not be confined to realist literary fiction but can flourish in any genre.
“Stag Dance” is not an easy read, nor is it meant to be. It challenges, provokes, and occasionally disturbs—but it does so with purpose and remarkable literary skill. For readers willing to engage with its complexities, it offers a rewarding experience that expands our understanding of what trans literature can be and do. Peters has firmly established herself as one of the most distinctive and thoughtful voices writing about gender today.