Trumpet

“I scream at him, ‘An explanation, you owe me an explanation. What’s the matter with you? Are you sick? Have you killed somebody?’ The strange thing is he already feels like he belongs to me. My anger makes him mine. ‘You really want to know, don’t you,’ he says in a voice I can’t quite recognize. ‘You really want to know. I’ll show you then,’ he says. ‘I’ll show you what is the matter.’”

This exchange takes place between Millie and Joss in Millie’s apartment, when Joss refuses to be romantic with her despite the pair being in love. This is the novel’s first example of a misunderstanding arising from a faulty assumption. This exchange reveals how two of the main characters deal with frustration—Millie’s frustration with Joss’s lack of affection and Joss’s frustration and fear that Millie will reject him because he is a transgender man—through the desperate sharing of a secret.

“People should keep to their own, she said. It wasn’t prejudice, it was common sense, she said. Then she said the word Darky. I don’t want you marrying a Darky. I stopped her before she shamed me further. I told her she wouldn’t be seeing me again and I left. My brother Duncan came round to Rose Street and said the whole family wanted to come to the wedding. It seems they have overcome their prejudice at least for today.”

This is an example of one type of prejudice experienced by Millie and Joss because of their interracial relationship. Kay captures the attitude of those who either assume they’re not biased or pretend to be acting in good faith. The ironic aspect of this exchange is that no one in Millie’s family realizes she is marrying a transgender man. The couple’s decision to conceal this implies that “same-sex” bias was even greater than racial bias at the time—and would have elicited a greater uproar.

“Like once I was on this bus with my mother and this black man got on. This was in Glasgow. So I’d be six or something like that. And somebody said something horrible to him, called him a f****** *** or some s*** like that. And my mother, in a f****** flash, was on her feet giving the guy dokey. Saying she was ashamed to come from the same country as him and that he was pig ignorant. Pig ignorant. I remember that expression because it made me laugh out loud. Then I remember him staring at me, the nasty man, and saying to my mum, ‘no wonder,’ or something.”

Here, Colman relates his upbringing to Sophie, describing a scene of racial prejudice to which his mother, Millie, responds with indignation and rage. Colman describes this moment as the first time he felt different from others. As he grew, these racial disparities increased exponentially. The undertone is that, if he was a jazz musician like his father, he would be far more acceptable to white British citizens.

“I did go to the funeral, as you know. So did the jazzmen, all the old troopers from way back. Blokes I dimly remembered. Men from all the millions of bands my father formed before he stuck with Joss Moody. The Big Heads, The Espressos, Jazz Kiddin’, the Earls of Hell’s Waistcoat, Jazzin’ It Up. I forget all the names. Anyhow. I never saw so many men cry in my life as at my father’s funeral. F****** Jesus. They all had huge big proper cloth handkerchiefs. I didn’t cry. I just sat listening to them playing my mother’s song.”

Colman describes his father’s funeral to Sophie. By the time the funeral takes place, all the individuals he refers to have become aware that Joss was assigned female at birth. These individuals’ grieving for Joss makes it clear that their respect and love for him far outweigh their surprise. This quote also contains an example of Kay’s use of listing to emphasize a particular point. In this case, she wants to demonstrate Joss’s range and creativity as a musical artist.

When I was a teenager my mother got alopecia. It was a nightmare. We’d walk down the street and my mother would say, ‘Millicent, is my bald patch showing?’ holding her hand anxiously up to the side of her head on a windy day. She’d carefully comb her hair to cover her pale bald patch, but the wind could threaten everything. Then it would suddenly appear, flat, white flesh, vulnerable standing out in amongst all that thick brown hair. It made me love her intensely and despise her. […] Must have affected me deeply because I still have sly peeps despite the distance of all the years. The terrible intimacy of mothers and daughters.”

Millie’s memory of her mother’s alopecia builds upon that of her mother complaining about the thickness of Colman’s hair. Through this, Kay reinforces the underlying pretentiousness of the average person, implying that even those who are fastidious and judgmental toward others have hidden flaws or secrets. Kay also refers to the “terrible” bond between mothers and daughters. In other places, she talks about the bond between father and son and mother and son, always stressing the ambivalence, the love-hate aspect of parent-child relationships.

“It came out one day quite casually when we were watching a programme on Josephine Baker adopting a ‘rainbow tribe’ of children. ‘That was my name,’ Joss said quietly. ‘What was?’ I said. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. ‘Josephine. My mother called me Josephine after her sister.’ […] But whenever the name Josephine Moore came up, he’d say, ‘Leave her alone,’ as if she was somebody else. He always spoke about her in the third person. She was his third person.”

This quote demonstrates the extent to which Joss compartmentalized his life so that, when he became Joss Moody, he completely eschewed Josephine Moore. His only connection to his former self was the weekly check he sent to his mother from Josephine. The reference to Josephine Baker draws attention to another ground-breaking Black performer. Baker was an American ex-patriot who sang and danced in Paris. She was bisexual and, perhaps, Kay’s inspiration for Joss’s name as a child.

“Holding scrabbled on the floor, picked up his glasses. There was nothing for it. He said, ‘Are you absolutely positive you want to see her?’

‘What are you talking about? Let me see my father. What’s wrong with you?’

Holding continued to speak quietly, forcing calmness into his voice. ‘If you are quite sure you can handle the shock of it, come this way, please. You will need to see for yourself.’ He took him through and pulled back the white sheet.”

Kay focuses on the implacability of the undertaker, whose complete absorption into his job means nothing surprises or upsets him. However, when he must deal with a deceased celebrity with a long-kept secret, he finds himself stunned. Compounding his anxiety is the recognition that the child of the deceased does not know the truth. Throughout the narrative, Kay frames the responses of the professionals involved in Joss’s funeral as quintessentially British—always maintaining decorum.

“He said seriously she had real talent and could become one of Britain’s best woman trumpet players. He went on about this: trumpet players were mostly men, it was time a woman like herself gave the guys a fright, a nice wee fright. No kidding. She could do it if she was interested; that’s all it takes, interest and intuition.”

In this quote, Colman senses his father’s unusual interest in his girlfriend Melanie and believes Joss is sexually attracted to her. However, Joss’s interest stems from believing Melanie could become something neither he nor Colman could ever be—the first woman blues trumpeter to achieve fame. Colman’s reaction—dumping Melanie—is another example of individuals making mistakes based on incorrect assumptions.

“I could do a search on the Internet and find the cities that have had famous transvestites live in them. […] The word transvestite has got more in it than the word crossdresser. What is a crossdresser anyway when he or she is at home? Someone who dresses in a fit of fury? Transvestite has a nice pervy ring to it. When we have finished The Book Joss Moody’s records will be selling better than they ever did. We’re doing her a favor. We’re making her immortal.”

In several places throughout the narrative, Sophie confides that she does not have any interest in Joss’s music. She believes Joss was on a power trip, trying to fool everyone and that their music was a “red herring.” Sophie’s prejudice is that crossdressers and transgender individuals are “perverts”—rather than people genuinely exploring or asserting their identities. Kay contrasts Sophie’s ignorance with the many individuals who loved Joss and, in particular, his lasting relationship with Millie.

“But there is nothing like that pain. That pain is the sweetest, most beautiful pain in the world. Better than sex. Soar or shuffle along, wing or glide, trudge or gallop, kicking out, mugging heavy, light, licking, breaking screw-balling. Out of this world he could be the fourth horseman, the messenger, the sender. He could be the ferryman. The migrant. The dispossessed. He can’t stop himself changing. Running changes. Changes running. He is changing all the time. It all falls off—bandages, braces, cufflinks, watches, hair grease, suits, buttons, ties. He is himself again, years ago, skipping along the railway line with a long cord his mother had made into a rope. In a red dress. It is liberating. To be a girl. To be a man.”

In the midst of a disembodied dream in which the spirit of Joss travels and witnesses many things, he recollects performing on stage, in particular remembering the authenticity of his music. Kay implies that Joss’s music allowed him to transcend human limitations, understanding the plight and the glory of others even in life. He can even transport himself back to his joyous childhood. His music also has apocalyptic power, as he compares himself to figures from different religions.

“All he says is, ‘Did I invite you?’ to see if that bothers her, but it doesn’t. ‘No,’ she smiles, ‘but I’m coming. You can’t do without me. Nobody can. You need a journalist’s special powers. People don’t talk anymore without this.’ She rubs her thumb obscenely against her fingers. ‘And besides,’ she says, ‘I’ve discovered that Joss Moody’s mother is still alive.’”

This quote comes from a conversation between a contentious, reluctant Colman and a self-assured, arrogant Sophie. While Sophie has uncovered important information that will serve Colman, allowing him to find meet his paternal grandmother for the first time, this moment is ironic. Kay portrays Sophie as solely focused on the sensational and prurient. She believes that money—symbolized by the rubbing of her thumb and fingers—will compel people to talk about Joss. Yet, almost every person Sophie interviews has more meaningful information about Joss as a human being that they intentionally withhold.

“Finally he shouts ahead to Moody, ‘I still can’t believe you did it.’ Moody shouts back, ‘Did what?’ Big Red shouts, ‘Died on me, you f****** b******! In his dream, Moody’s face lights up. ‘Oh that,’ he says. ‘That. You had that coming. You needed to be the bandleader.’ Moody starts to run. In his dream he is the same age that he was when they first met. ‘Was it me?’ Big Red shouts after the running figure in the yellow field. ‘Did I do something?’ Moody turns and shouts, ‘Don’t be soft, McCall. You knew all along!’”

Reeling from a hostile confrontation with Sophie, Joss’s drummer and best friend, Big Red McCall, follows the disembodied Joss in a dream in which the latter eludes him. When Big Red asks for understanding and release from his grief, Joss’s spirit implores him to become their band’s new leader. He also implies that Big Red always knew his secret on some level. This correlates with the frequent observations of other characters who, upon learning Joss was assigned female at birth, cannot again picture him as a cisgender man.

“When you die, you don’t leave straight away. I know this. I feel it. After they took away his body, I felt Joss desperate for peace. He still hasn’t been given his proper death. The one everyone expects—a good send off. His funeral won’t have helped; he wouldn’t have been satisfied with that funeral. No, he is still hanging around in limbo. They say that when there is trouble, the dead hang around. I believe it completely. Joss is here with me. I find myself thinking thoughts these days that I know are his thoughts.”

When it is revealed that Joss concealed his assigned gender for years, it creates turmoil for everyone who cares about him and an opportunity for those who wish to profit from his memory. Millie believes Joss’s spirit lingers as a result of this turmoil, and that he speaks through her thoughts. In Kay’s description of this bond and other aspects of the couple’s relationship, she depicts the integrity of their love (despite the negative reception of others, including the couple’s own son).

“My father couldn’t cope with me becoming a man. Couldn’t handle it. […] I’d see him standing around some days, staring at me with this sick look on his face. When I was a wee boy he was a great dad to have, cool, funny, easy. But when I became a teenager, he flipped out started all this business of checking up on me. Finding out if I had done my homework. Clock in the time that I came in. […] It was at the same time as this career took a bad dip. Maybe he felt his life was over and it was down to me to come up with something. I don’t know. Whatever it was it was pure hell for me.”

Millie’s description of the same period in Colman’s life comes from the perspective that her son was purposely calling attention to himself by getting into trouble. She gives plenty of evidence that young Colman was out of control. Thus, when Colman attributes his father’s heightened oversight to a bad place in his career, Kay wants the reader to grasp that he is confusing cause and effect. The lag in Joss’s career was the direct result of his son’s behavior, as he was worried about him. As Colman notes, however, now that Joss’s life is over, it is up to him to honor (or dishonor) his father’s legacy.

“Since we talked about going to Scotland, Colman has started dishing the dirt. This is exactly the kind of stuff that will sell the book. The 90s are obsessed with sex, infidelity, scandal, sleaze, perverts. The 90s love the private life. The private life that turned suddenly and horrifically public. The sly life that hides pure filth and sin. The life of respectability that shakes with hypocrisy.”

Sophie reveals her true motive and lack of principles in this quote. A true tabloid writer, her intent is to uncover the closely guarded secrets of the Moodys and frame them as Joss and Millie mocking all those who had been colleagues and fans, family and friends. While Kay presents the Moodys as an extremely private couple who sought to keep their personal lives separate from their public lives, Sophie repeatedly misses all the nuances of their love as well as others’ obvious affection for them.

“The thing she was fussy about was all her ornaments. Ornaments from all around the world in that house. Huge Russian dolls, those ones that hide inside each other. Mrs Moody showed her one day. It took up ten minutes to get to the baby hiding in there. The smaller they got the less details on their faces. Mrs Moody said to her, ‘We’re all like that, aren’t we? We’ve all got lots of little people inside of us.’ Maggie said, ‘When you think about it. It’s true, you know.’”

As Sophie interviews past associates of the Moodys, she encounters the family’s former housekeeper, Maggie. Maggie and Millie’s doll-related exchange comments on people’s many layers. The observation that the smallest doll—the baby—is at the heart of the largest one implies that our childhood self still remains within us. While Joss no longer goes by Josephine, he still seems fond of his childhood and mother. This symbolism also calls into question Maggie’s decision to do a paid interview with Sophie, despite having been treated well by the Moodys; Maggie’s praise of the family is lost in her choosing to reveal information about Joss.

It’s not easy to travel in this country. Black guys like him. People always think that they’re going to be wrong or that they’ve done something wrong or that they’re lying, or about to lie, or stealing or about to steal. It’s no f****** joke just trying to get about the place with people thinking bad things about you all the time. He knows that they think these things. They don’t fool him with their surprise and pretense. It’s written all over their faces. They are wary of him, scared of him, uptight. How many times he had to say, Hands up, it’s OK. I don’t bite.”

Even when prejudice is unspoken, Colman is aware that white people regard him with suspicion, because he is Black. The author, a Black woman, seeks to portray the experiences of young Black men in Great Britain with accuracy. When Colman encounters white individuals who know him personally, such as the butcher in Torr, the treatment he receives is much more amenable.

“He always liked to tell somebody when he was going away. Sammy was surprised to hear his voice. ‘Cole, where are you at?’ Sammy said. Colman was not sure if it was his imagination or not, but Sammy sounded embarrassed, awkward. He told Sammy he was going to Scotland to do a book.

‘What kind of book?’

‘You’ll see. I’ll give you a signed copy when it’s done.’

‘Don’t do anything you won’t like in five years,’ Sammy said.”

Persuaded by Sophie to find Joss’s mother and then confront Millie, Colman prepares to leave London for Glasgow. In an act of bravado, Colman contacts his friend Sammy. The perceived awkwardness is as much on Colman’s part as it is Sammy. Sammy knows Colman well enough to caution him against further eroding his father’s reputation. The reality is that going to Scotland will have the opposite effect, ultimately reminding Colman of his love for his parents and pushing him to leave Sophie.

“The idea suddenly occurs to him that he needn’t even mention anything to Mrs Moore about his father. He could simply say he was a friend or something. Wouldn’t that be kinder than the truth? But it would be tricking her, lying to her. How can lies be better than the truth? Good lies. What they call ‘white’ lies. Lies that are harmless, innocent, told from the mouths of innocent harmless white people. He isn’t that, is he? Can a black guy like himself tell a white lie? If he says Josephine Moore was his mother it would stop the old girl having to hear about all the transvestite stuff.”

As Colman approaches his meeting with Edith Moore, Joss’s mother, his empathy grows exponentially. He realizes Edith needs to know about her child’s death, yet struggles with how to break the news. The burden of sharing Joss’s true identity makes the task even more difficult. However, as Kay reveals, it would have been difficult to scandalize Edith, given all she’s endured through her marriage to a Black foreigner and raising their biracial child in a predominately white country.

“The new homehelp—a nice girl, Cathy, but asked too many questions—picked up the photograph and said, ‘Oh my! He’s handsome. Who’s he?’ When Edith replied, ‘That was my husband,’ Cathy was shocked. Aye. She might have tried to hide it, but Edith saw it just the same. Shocked at her this auld, auld woman, going out with, no, married to, a black man. It was written all over her face. Edith watched her hovering, thinking things. She watched her dusting Edith’s china, thinking things. She was sleekit, but she wasn’t sleekit enough for Edith.”

In this quote, the narrator describes a housekeeper asking Edith Moore, Joss’s mother, about the handsome, well-dressed man in the photograph on her mantle. Cathy’s reaction to the white Edith having married a Black man is an example of pervasive racial bias—which carries over to Joss and Millie’s own marriage.

“There is no love like the love you have as girls. Not the love she felt for her husband, or any subsequent lover. No love to match that burning, feverish loyalty, that hysterical devotion, that total obsessiveness. As a girl, my heart would have died for Josie. She loved everything about her. Her hair. Her lips. How her skirt hung just above her knees. Her funny high laugh. The way she grabbed at you and touched you when she was talking to you. May even loved Josephine Moore’s silence.”

When Sophie tracks down Joss’s former elementary school classmate, May Hart, it causes the latter to remember their relationship with complete clarity. This memory and Sophie’s photograph of Joss bring back the powerful romantic elements of their relationship when they were both 11, causing May to feel jealousy toward Millie. May quickly realizes that speaking to Sophie will hurt Joss in some way, causing her to destroy the teacup from which the reporter drank in anger.

“The public may hate perverts, but they love reading about them. Why? Because everybody has a bit of perversion in them. Every person goes about their life with a bit of perversion that is unadmittable, secretive, loathed. I know this. I have my own skeletons in the cupboard. So does Sarah, although she’d never admit it. There are some things families never talk about.”

Sophie attempts to justify her intense drive to write about Joss. She comments on the human condition—that human identities, roles, and relationships are not pure and idyllic. However, rather than embracing the human search for identity, Sophie portrays it as perverse, as if condemning people like Joss. However, as the novel progresses, it becomes clear that she completely misunderstands Joss (who lived for music) and Colman’s attitude toward Joss (who loves his father despite his current emotional state).

“Someone painted the picture of my father which I’ve left for you among the bits and pieces. […] He’s not given a name. Even the name he was given, John Moore, was not his original name.

That’s the thing with us: we keep changing names. We’ve all got that in common. We’ve all changed names, you, me, my father. All for different reasons. Maybe one day you’ll understand mine.”

This quote from Joss’s final letter to Colman touches on the commonality of the family’s three generations of men. The act of changing names is a metaphor for the three men’s lives not ending up the way they started out. Human beings, Joss implies, do not need to accept the identities placed upon them. However, he goes on to make Colman the steward of his own story and reputation. Ultimately, the letter implies that nothing about us is permanent. In this, human beings are like a song, distinct but malleable.