[identity profile] sermoa.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] trans
Has anyone here read "The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tiler" by Gene Kemp? I should very much like to discuss it with anyone who has. It is a book which I would recommend to any transgender person. You will find out why when you read the pen-ultimate chapter!

It was read to me when I was in junior skol. It's funny - I suppose I must have had plenty of books read to me at skol but this is the only one which I can remember. Not only did I remember what it was about, but I even remembered the title! It was significant to me in the same way that the "Famous Five" books were.

It's a kiddies book, easy to read - I read it in an evening and I am rubbish at reading!!



Here are some extracts from the book ...

"Now don't play about. Hurry along to the classroom."
She used my real name, the one I hate, so I pulled my worst, most horrible face at her, the slit-eyed yellow-tooth, ears-wiggling monster-from-the-centre-of-the-earth one. After she'd gone, of course. And I practised willing her to drop dead by my fabulous will-power. But it didn't work. It never does.


Mum called up the stairs.
"Tyke, take the dog for a walk."
"Spud can do it."
"He's got his homework, whereas you're messing about doing nothing. Off you go."
"Errrrrggggghhhhhugh. Yuck. Yuck."


As Dad came in I jumped on him from behind the door.
"You crazy fool. Are you trying to flatten me?"
We wrestled in the hall.
"Submit," he said. I submitted.
"Dad?"
"Tyke."
"Would teachers miss ten pounds if they lost it?"
"Yes. Now bed. The day's long enough without you at the end of it, horrible."
I pinched his ear, then moved fast as he pushed me up the stairs.
"Good night, Tyke."
"'Night, Dad."


"Oh. Splendid. What's your name?"
"Tyke Tiler."
"Your real name?"
"No, but no one ever calls me anything else. Not ever."
Was she going to be all right, a friend like Sir, or an enemy like Mrs Somers?
"I see, Tyke."
"Thank you, Miss." And she would be all right, I could tell.


"That'll be Richard," Beryl cried, rushing for the front door, while I made for the back one so that I shouldn't get caught for some grotty task like addressing envelopes. I ran straight into Dad.
"Tyke, you're just the person I want. I've got some leaflets for you to deliver."
I went back into the kitchen. What a life!
"Take Danny with you. And the dog," Dad went on cheerily, handing over hundreds of pieces of paper.
"Not all those!"
"Don't pull that face. Learn to do something for other people for once," Mum snapped. She was in a heck of a mood.
"Any other jobs while I'm about it?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes, we need another loaf, else we shan't have enough for your toast in the morning. Get one from the off-licence."
She handed me some money.
"Any change?" I asked, hopeful.
"I've given you the right amount."


I put on Crumble's lead, and picked up the leaflets, taking a dekko at the top one, which was headed "YOUR RENTS & YOUR RATES". How incredibly, spifflicatingly boring. No one in their right mind, even a grown-up, would want to read it. Might just as well chuck them all in the river.


"Don't talk stupid. Nobody cares what people look like."
"No?"
"I don't care what I look like."
"We know that. You look like a rock ape, anyway."


It is delightfully British, and very funny! Also there is a lovely sub-plot about Tyke's best friend Danny, who is a kleptomaniac and has a speech-impediment. I heartily recommend this book!
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