“I failed my son, Yadriel, as both a father and a leader,” A Review of Aiden Thomas' Cemetery Boys
Before I jump straight into writing this essay, I just want to say two things, the first being that there’s a general spoiler warning for the discussion of characters, content and major plot points from this book. And secondly, that some of what I have to say may not pertain to you as a reader, and my thoughts and opinions are formed from my own experiences as they relate to the book, and you are free to form your own opinions from it for yourself.
This review is going to discuss the novel Cemetery Boys by the author Aiden Thomas. I will include trigger warnings for transphobia, deadnaming and misgendering; gender dysphoria, themes of coming out; the recollection of parental abandonment; disowning and child homelessness; blood depiction & use of blood for magic and in rituals; dead bodies and serious injury of loved ones; hospitals and medical content. As well as grief, parental death recollection; the disappearance of a loved one; murder and attempted murder; knife violence and stabbing; racial discrimination by police; mentions of a car accident; smoking and alcohol consumption; and animal blood used for magic and rituals.
If any of those issues listed could affect you please be careful if you choose to read this book.
"For the first time in a very long time, Yadriel didn't feel like a lost cause."
Cemetery Boys is the story of a trans boy, Yadriel, in a community who don't fully accept him as being male. Early in Thomas's cracking debut, Yadriel, a 16 year old gay, Latinx, trans boy, successfully performs the quinces ritual his family denied him, in front of Lady Death, thus unlocking his magical powers as a brujo.
Aiden Thomas lured me into their imaginative and vibrant narrative with an enchanting mix of mystery and magic, then hooked me in further through their winning characters. The sense of fall was immediate, with the swiftness and depth of it. I wanted to hold time like a breath in my chest, and never stop reading. When I turned the last page, I felt like something inside of me had cracked open, like a room with the windows all thrown wide open, eager to let in the gleaming sunlight, the fresh air, and the spring-morning warmth. That heady feeling of weightlessness, as though something heavy had been perched on my shoulders but had finally flown away.
Early in Thomas's cracking debut novel, Yadriel, a 16 year old, gay, Latinx, trans boy, successfully performs the ritual his family denied him in front of Lady Death, thus unlocking his magical powers as a brujo. Soon after, Yadriel discovers that his cousin has suddenly and inexplicably died, but his spirit is nowhere to be found. The mystery calls to Yadriel like an alluring secret, and determined, he sets about rooting it out. If he can find his cousin's body and release his spirit to the afterlife, he can finally prove to his family that he is a true brujo and a boy.
Yadriel's plan certainly did not include falling for one Julian Diaz, the spirit of a handsome dead boy Yadriel accidentally summoned. But now it is just the two of them; tangled up together like coat hangers, with this mystery hanging heavy in the air around them like a ghost. It is this mystery that forms the plot of Cemetery Boys, and everything soon becomes imbued with the sense of hurtling toward an inevitable crash. The writing is incredibly engaging, and the dialogue is some of the best I've ever read. It was compelling, effortlessly swift, and full of nuance and humour. It's these voices that Aiden Thomas gives their characters that will follow you off the page.
The author sees the characters, genuinely really sees them and wants them to see themselves the way the readers will. In his hands, their stories transcend what is expected of them. But it's more than just an exercise in subverting expectations. There's so much tenderness infused into the novel, fizzing so joyously through its veins. All of the characters are rendered with care, every single one of them is meticulously polished in all their conflicted, multifaceted glory. Yadriel's voice is as unique as it is compelling, and I warmed with the simple joy of stumbling across someone whose desires and fears are shaped so closely to my own, and a character I could really deeply connect to in a way that is a rare treat to see, even amongst some of the best authors works I’ve read.
Yadriel wanted to be accepted by his family and community with all the fierce longing of a thwarted child, and even when it burned in him that his family refused to acknowledge him as a brujo and as a boy, even when he had to endure conversations as painful as picking one's way through a patch of nettles, and even when he tired of always being the one to swallow his hurt and extend people the benefit of the doubt it was still more endurable than the inconsolable grief of losing that tenuous hold on slight acceptance.
I feel that oftentimes in Young Adults books with a focus on a queer narrative, the queer protagonist is either wholeheartedly embraced by their family, or shunned by them completely. But very few novels actually venture into the vast area in between, where it feels like the people around you are embracing you with one arm but pushing you back with the other, and show how painful and taxing it is to navigate that agonising nuance. Yadriel's family claims to accept him as a boy, but simultaneously makes innocent throwaway comments like when his dad asked him to "stay [there] with the rest of the women" or his grandmother told him he'll always be "[her] little girl". Phrases like those cut like a knife, swift and deep for people whose gender identity doesn’t match up with their assigned gender at birth. Yadriel did not know how to fit love and resentment into the same cupboard. He loved his family and his community and he wanted desperately to fully belong with them, but their failure to embrace him the way he deserved to be embraced struck him with a pang of deep resentment. And the two emotions fought for the same space inside his chest. The nagging familiarity of it still snags at me. My family and community are everything to me. It's not something to painlessly give up with a laugh and a roll of the shoulders, or easily pare away like dead foliage. But knowing that I'd never quite fit in, not all the way, no matter how hard I tried, that hurts. And it felt less lonely to read a book in which the protagonist is sitting right here with me, his feelings shadowing my own thoughts.
In one of the novel's most heartwarming scenes, Julian tells Yadriel, "You don't need anyone's permission to be you, Yads," and something inside Yadriel lit up like a torch. That line, along with the scene showing Yadriel’s father Enrique telling him that he’d talk to the leaders about him joining the aquelarre really gave me a strong sense of euphoria and pride. Parents often don’t apologise for any hurt they cause, whether it was done with intent or not, neither in real life nor in fictional works. Therefore, reading the passage of Enrique doing just that, really made me feel some things. And maybe that’s because of personal circumstances, but either way, it made me emotional to encounter. Enrique says that he now realises how much of a mistake he and the community had made in treating his son and his brother the way they had in casting them out simply for not fitting within the strict bounds of the binary, both in gender terms and within the terms of magical allowance.
Wanting acceptance and waiting for permission can feel like two sides of the same coin sometimes, flashing end over end, wild and jarring and dizzying. Where does one end and the other begin? When does the plea you form in your head for love and acceptance grow teeth that sink into your flesh and bleed fear into your chest, drowning all that you are in a terrible, echoing silence? How long are you willing to allow it to tear you up before you can't bear it any longer and you are forced to speak your mind?
“But belonging meant denying who he was.”
One theme that's particularly prevalent throughout this novel, and one that I’d like to discuss in further detail, is the idea of gender roles and gender stereotypes and how they affect queer people who fall outside of such conventional binary structures and ideas.
Gender roles and stereotypes are based upon the different expectations that individuals, groups and societies have about different selections of the population whose views are informed by each society’s values and beliefs on gender. An example of this is the typical societal view of men being the breadwinners while women take care of the home and children. This is mirroring the societal expectations that have been held as far back as early humans.
The boys/men or brujos (sorcerers) are the ones entrusted to help the spirits pass to the afterlife, and sever the link between the spirit and their tether to the land of the living using their portajes. While the girls/women or brujas (witches) are given healing powers, and once had the ability to bring the recently dead back to life. This assignment of these powers between the brujx (the neutral form of brujo and bruja) evidently plays into the inherent gender stereotypes seen throughout society. The idea of women being healers is something that has been a social construct for hundreds of years. And this novel does two things with it, it follows it through on that construct, with the women being given the powers of healing, and at one time, the ability to raise the recently dead. However, it also subverts that trend too in the sense that the women of their culture are the ones who bring in more money to the household through various healing-related professions.
Something else that is relevant to address in the discussion of this book and the heavy gender stereotypes that follow throughout it is the old, traditionalist views. The main character is female-to-male transgender, meaning they are taking steps to present themself in a masculine way. He changed his name and used a binder to minimise the appearance of his chest. And his family accepted that, but still, they make small throwaway comments like "stay [there] with the rest of the women", or his grandmother saying “Pero siempre serás mijita” (but you’ll always be my little girl). The brujx leaders, as the heads of this large community, jointly decided that Yadriel couldn’t do his quinces like the rest of the boys his age and be presented at the aquelarre during Día de Muertos, because of his being transgender and their belief that Lady Death wouldn’t accept it, and therefore Yadriel as he is. There are however a few people in his life who accept him, and will unfailingly use his name and pronouns correctly, those people being his best friend Maritza, and the ghost boy he unwittingly summons, Julian Diaz. While Julian never corrects anyone, due to his whole being dead issue, Maritza does, as does Yads himself when he snaps “¡Soy Yadriel, Lita!” at his grandmother when she calls him by his deadname (this is typically considered to be the name a transgender individual is given at birth but no longer uses, though it can be any previous names they’ve used also).
Older generations typically have a difficult time with the adjustment of being asked to use a different name and/or set of pronouns than the ones they’re used to. This can be seen through examples from both Yadriel’s grandmother and his father. Both of them inherently accept Yadriel’s identity, and will use his name and pronouns, though not without occasional mistakes.
The brujx community is divided strictly into males and females, and anyone who doesn’t fall into one of those two categories in a binary way, or anyone who doesn’t have the abilities in strength enough to do their job within the community is shunned. They don't know what to do with them so they push them out.
The evidence of that can be seen in both Yadriel, who doesn’t fit in with his community’s expectations of him and his gender identity and in his tío Catriz, who was born without much magical ability and therefore in his view he was denied his birthright as the oldest born son of the Brujx leader to gain that title upon his fathers passing.
In both of these two characters, the theme of gender roles can be discussed. In Yadriel’s case, the female gender roles attempted to be pushed on him, trying to get him to become a healer, though when he tried it, he found he couldn’t do it, which gives an indication that the female gender roles within the Brujx community aren’t the right path for him. And in Catriz’s case, he was shunned and pushed aside from his community, he wasn’t included in any of the important decisions because he didn’t have much of the magic that everyone else has possession of.
In two other characters, defiance of gender roles can also be seen. Both Maritza and Yadriel defy their community’s expectations of them in regard to their respective gender roles. Yadriel through being transgender and wishing to follow the brujo path and perform the necessary rituals associated with that. And Maritza through her being vegan, and the expression of her desire not to have to use animal blood in order to be able to heal people. Similarly, as mentioned previously, Yadriel was tested when he was younger, and his mother tried to encourage him to do some basic healing of an injured cat. And while it should've been simple for him to do with his mother's help, it backfired and the cat ended up a little bit disfigured. And in the same kind of way, Maritza was always more drawn to the forge, and the making of the portajes for the Brujos, than to the idea of healing. Although, unlike Yads, Maritza does have the ability to heal people and animals, as well as being gifted the ability to raise the recently deceased from the dead. Both, however, eventually are accepted by the Brujx leaders as their respective genders due to them proving that they are able to wield the magic gifted to them by Santa Muerte (Lady Death). Unlike Yadriel’s Tío Catriz who was driven to dangerous and prohibited methods to gain power, and magic and attain what he saw to be his birthright.
Going back to the idea that sparked the whole essay: gender roles and gender stereotypes, and how they play into the lives of the people who fall outside of those binary structures and ideas. I’ve discussed Maritza and Yadriel, and the way the gender constructs within their community affected their characters, and I’ve also talked about Catriz, and the way the societal expectations of the community he’s part of caused problems. But I also want to talk about two characters who aren’t a part of the Brujx community. Two characters who are friends of Julian’s, and who Yadriel meets as a result of accidentally raising Julian’s spirit: Flaca and Raquel Ramos, who is referred to as Rocky.
In the case of Flaca, she’s a trans girl, who uses she and her pronouns. She went to the same school as Yadriel, she was in the same grade and was in some of the same classes as him until she dropped out. When remembering Flaca, Yadriel says “Flaca was the first openly trans person [he] had ever met.” He remembers thinking that it was “both incredibly brave and terrifying, all at once” when he saw her come into school in a skirt for the first time and that seeing her openly presenting as female gave him the confidence to come to school wearing his binder and openly presenting as male. Something that got him a positive response from her when they were in class together.
In regard to Raquel Ramos, who is referred to as Rocky, is a cisgender girl, who also uses she and her pronouns, she is also a lesbian. She is friends with both Julian and Flaca. She is very protective over Flaca, following teachers down the hall, and yelling at them as they escorted Flaca to the main office. Rocky would also send seething glares at anyone who looked wrongly at her for using the girls’ bathrooms.
Both of these characters show examples of female gender stereotypes, but in different ways, both in terms of the fact that one of them is transgender while the other is cisgender, and also in the way they both choose to present themselves physically in light of that fact. Flaca wears the typical things girls are ‘supposed’ to wear, she’s become comfortable in dresses and skirts. Rocky is described as being a pretty girl, with striking features. She has long hair, typically held back in a high ponytail. She’s also described in a way that sounds vaguely masculine and defensively aggressive about the people she cares about.
The difference between these two characters is the way society’s expectations impact upon them. Transgender people, regardless of whether they’re trans males or trans females, on the whole, feel some level of perceived pressure from their community, the people around them, or society in general, to act in a hypermasculine or hyperfeminine way to almost compensate for the fact that they aren’t cisgender, and that can be seen to some degree in the characterisation of Flaca. The way she finally felt comfortable, and potentially safe enough to go out in public presenting totally as herself, and wearing what makes her feel comfortable. On the other hand, Rocky isn’t really described in terms of the clothing she wears, and her character is described in a way that makes her read to be more androgynous, at least that’s the way the character reads to me anyway. She isn’t expected to be a ‘girly girl’ the same way Flaca is because she’s cisgender, and cisgender women don’t have the same expectation to conform to clothing standards and present themselves the same way transgender women are.
To conclude, this novel has some of the best transgender representation I’ve come across, and it serves the story very well. However, gender roles don’t solely affect transgender individuals, which can be seen when you look at Rocky and Maritza, both of whom are cisgender females. Something I discussed in my essay on Alice Oseman’s novel Loveless is the idea of different temporalities, and I feel that it has some bearing on this essay too. The concept of different temporalities means the state of existing within, or having some relationship with time. Essentially, it’s the way that people view events, milestones and goals, or any marker of the passing of time, and the way each person will see this as being different as a result of their life experiences. Queer temporalities specifically are the idea that queer people, in a lot of ways, are divorced from the life paths and milestones of the heteronormative society they live in, which leads to a different perception of time and its passing. While it applies differently within the context of comparing heterosexual relationships and queer relationships, it can also be utilised in reference to gender roles and how queer and specifically transgender people perceive and are perceived by the relevant gender roles for them. Ultimately gender roles and gender stereotypes do have a large impact upon queer individuals, whether they’re transgender, or gender non-conforming, if they’re non-binary or just generally don’t fit in with what society tells them to be and expects of them.
Gender norms, gender roles, gender stereotypes, whatever words you’re going to use to describe the idea that a particular person has to act, behave, dress and present themself a certain way is purely a social construct. And I know that gets said often, about many different things, but ultimately it’s true. A person does not and should not have to present themself any particular way in order to garner respect, prestige in a community, acceptance or anything else, regardless of their biological sex or their gender identity.
“You don’t need anyone’s permission to be you Yads.”