[b:Trumpet|195733|Trumpet|Jackie Kay|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1403185988l/195733._SY75_.jpg|647113] is an exquisitely written novel about grief, death, and being trans. I read it all in one go on a Sunday afternoon, which I don't recommend as it left me in an odd headspace. The plot revolves around Joss Moody, a famous jazz trumpeter who has recently died. During his life only his wife knew he was trans. After his death his friends, son, and the public find out and react in a variety of ways. The narrative ranges across different points of view, including his son, his wife, a journalist writing a sensationalist book about him, his cleaner, and the registrar who signs his death certificate. These perspectives built up a rich picture of Joss' life and death. I found the funeral director's chapter particularly powerful and unsettling. I hadn't read anything else by Jackie Kay and am very impressed that this was her first novel. It is deftly structured, deeply evocative, and emotionally resonant. The characters, living and dead, are vividly drawn and the depiction of grief is utterly convincing:

I dry my hands and pour the water down the sink. I must remember things. I look out of the kitchen window. It has been raining. Tiny beads of rain have been painted on the window pane when I wasn't looking. It is a fine Impressionists' rain. Next door's rowan tree is still quite still, not at all flamboyant; it is not the season for flamboyance. I can see Elsa at her kitchen window peeling potatoes. The intimacy startles me. Seeing me staring, she waves at me. I wave back, suddenly glad of the human contact. If I pin myself down and remember the ordinary things, I will be able to manage. To get up each day and get washed and eat and sleep. To live a life without my companion. To live this life where I am exhausted with my own company, terrible thoughts spinning morning to night in my head. Maybe this is what people mean when they say they are lonely. Maybe they mean they are exhausted even with their own company. If I could just say I am lonely how lovely and ordinary that sounds.

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I loved it. I will listen to it again and I highly recommend it. If you're someone who enjoys audio books, I suggest that route.

Here's a link to a more complete review but it says pretty much the same thing.

http://reviews.c-spot.net/archives/4739 ( )

Promising plot waylaid by too much introspection excusing all the years of lies.

For no good reason, trumpeterJoss Moody and Millie drop their major betrayal on their adopted son, Colman.
Readers may well wish he just took the richly well deserved money for the book and relaxed into a new life.
Sophie Stone's exploitation of his grief translates into a release from his desire for revenge.

The many perspectives of Moody's death are pretty depressing, with Big Red the outstanding character.

While we wonder why Joss never retuned to fully care for his aging Mother,
we may still hope that Colman goes back to help her instead of placating his Mother .

Readers will want to hear that storybook TRUMPET play!!!

Descriptions of house and dark and land and sea and moon and wind in Torr are compelling. ( )

4.6 - excellent, also features Greenock which is a rare treat for a novel ( )

A trans jazz trumpeter is outed after his death; this novel follows his widow and his adopted son as they come to terms with both events, and introduces various incidental characters (the undertaker, the registrar, the cleaner...) in one-off scenes. This was beautiful and harrowing, a portrait of grief made more difficult than it needed to be because of the prurient rubbernecking of strangers. (And in these days of increasing transphobia from the press, it was satisfying to see the journalist/ghostwriter presented as a thoroughly nasty piece of work.)