Stag Dance: A Novel & Stories by Torrey Peters

Torrey Peters’ Stag Dance: A Novel & Stories, published by Penguin Random House in 2025, is a bold follow-up to her acclaimed debut, Detransition, Baby (2021), which won the PEN/Hemingway Award and was longlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. A National Bestseller, this collection comprises a titular novel and three stories— “Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones,” “The Chaser,” and “The Masker”—that explore transness, gender, and desire through genre-blending narratives. Peters, a trans writer from Brooklyn’s DIY trans-lit scene, crafts stories that refuse to sanitize the complexities of identity, earning praise for their “hot, heartbreaking, and thrillingly victorious” prose (The New York Times, 2025).

This review argues that Stag Dance is essential reading for its provocative exploration of gender as performance, its unflinching portrayal of marginalized lives, and its innovative storytelling, offering global readers, particularly those engaged with trans and feminist literature like Sylvia Rivera’s activism and Judith Butler’s gender theories, a lens to reflect on identity, societal exclusion, and the transformative power of narrative.

Stag Dance weaves four distinct works—historical fiction, dystopian sci-fi, campus romance, and psychological horror—united by Peters’ incisive exploration of gender and desire. The titular novel, set in a 19th-century illegal logging camp in Minnesota, follows Babe Bunyan, a lumberjack who attends the camp’s winter dance as a woman: “Thirty-four of us had worked that camp—boomers and bindle stiffs to a man” (Peters, 2025, p. 3). The camp boss, Daglish, announces a “stag dance” where men volunteer to dress as women, marked by a fabric triangle: “Daglish… produces a yard of brown fabric and cuts a pubic triangle out of it” (Peters, 2025, p. 15). Babe’s choice sparks rivalry with Lisen, a “pretty whistle punk from somewhere in Scandahoovia” (Peters, 2025, p. 27), leading to “a cascade of obsession, jealousy, and betrayal” (Peters, 2025, p. 30). The prose, rich with lumberjack slang, evokes a world where “the whole of creation preened in bridal finery” (Peters, 2025, p. 10), yet Babe grapples with self-doubt: “No mirror had ever befriended him” (Peters, 2025, p. 35).

“Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones” is a dystopian tale set in a near-future Seattle where a pandemic halts human sex hormone production: “In the future, everyone will be trans” (Peters, 2025, p. 50). The trans woman narrator navigates a world of hormone scarcity and factional conflict, driven by an unstable ex-girlfriend. “The Chaser” explores a secret romance at a Quaker boarding school in Pennsylvania, where a boy wrestles with desire for his femme roommate: “The room felt too small for the weight of what we weren’t saying” (Peters, 2025, p. 80). The relationship unravels into cruelty, exposing suppressed desires.

“The Masker” is a dark story set at a Las Vegas transfeminine gathering, where Krys, a young crossdresser, navigates tensions between a charismatic fetishist and a cynical trans elder: “Sally wants to be the narrator’s mom, but the narrator wants to hang out with a mysterious chaser wearing a black mask” (Peters, 2025, p. 120). Krys confronts her identity amid “a truly grotesque character called The Masker who goes around in a silicone suit” (Peters, 2025, p. 125). The story probes power dynamics: “What do we really want? And are we going to choose what is good for us or accept who we are?” (Peters, 2025, p. 130). Across these narratives, Peters challenges readers to rethink gender and identity.

Stag Dance is a literary triumph, blending genres with prose that provokes and unsettles. The titular novel’s historical setting in Minnesota and lumberjack slang— “Thirty-four of us had worked that camp—boomers and bindle stiffs to a man” (Peters, 2025, p. 3)—create a vivid world, akin to the raw authenticity of Sylvia Rivera’s activist writings. Its exploration of gender performance, as in “the whole of creation preened in bridal finery” (Peters, 2025, p. 10), resonates with Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, where gender is a performative act, making it a vital text for readers interested in trans narratives.

The stories’ diversity is a strength, with “Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones” offering a speculative premise—“In the future, everyone will be trans” (Peters, 2025, p. 50)—that challenges binary gender constructs, aligning with Marsha P. Johnson’s advocacy for fluid identities. “The Chaser” captures adolescent desire— “The room felt too small for the weight of what we weren’t saying” (Peters, 2025, p. 80)—with a subtlety that echoes Susan Stryker’s Transgender History. “The Masker” stands out, its imagery— “a truly grotesque character called The Masker who goes around in a silicone suit” (Peters, 2025, p. 125)—and interrogation of identity— “What do we really want? And are we going to choose what is good for us or accept who we are?” (Peters, 2025, p. 130)—evoking the psychological depth of Laverne Cox’s reflections on trans visibility. Peters’ prose is acidly funny and expansive, making the collection accessible yet profound.

Despite its brilliance, Stag Dance has limitations for global readers. The titular novel’s length and stylized lingo— “Daglish… produces a yard of brown fabric and cuts a pubic triangle out of it” (Peters, 2025, p. 15)—can feel overly drawn-out, potentially alienating readers accustomed to the concise narratives of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando. The lack of cohesion across stories may frustrate readers seeking the unified structure of Janet Mock’s Redefining Realness. The provocative content, particularly in “The Masker”—“Sally wants to be the narrator’s mom, but the narrator wants to hang out with a mysterious chaser wearing a black mask” (Peters, 2025, p. 120)—may challenge conservative audiences in regions where discussions of gender and sexuality remain taboo.

The historical and Western settings, such as the Minnesota logging camp where “no mirror had ever befriended him” (Peters, 2025, p. 35), may feel distant to readers unfamiliar with these contexts, unlike Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, which blends universal themes with cultural resonance. The collection’s focus on trans-specific experiences may limit its appeal for readers expecting broader themes, as seen in Butler’s theoretical universality. Some readers found the titular novel’s pacing uneven, noting it felt less engaging than the shorter stories.

Why Readers Must Read This Book

Stag Dance is a must-read for global readers engaged with trans and feminist literature, because its bold exploration of gender as performance and unflinching portrayal of marginalized lives offer a lens to challenge societal norms and embrace diverse identities. The titular novel’s depiction of Babe’s gender exploration—“Thirty-four of us had worked that camp—boomers and bindle stiffs to a man” (Peters, 2025, p. 3)—and the symbolic triangle—“Daglish… produces a yard of brown fabric and cuts a pubic triangle out of it” (Peters, 2025, p. 15)—echo Sylvia Rivera’s activism, inspiring readers in cities like New York or São Paulo to question rigid gender roles.

The Minnesota setting, where “the whole of creation preened in bridal finery” (Peters, 2025, p. 10), and Babe’s self-doubt—“No mirror had ever befriended him” (Peters, 2025, p. 35)—mirror the struggles of marginalized identities in Marsha P. Johnson’s advocacy, resonating with readers in London’s queer spaces or Cape Town’s activist circles. The dystopian “Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones”— “In the future, everyone will be trans” (Peters, 2025, p. 50)—aligns with Judith Butler’s theories, encouraging readers in Berlin or Melbourne to embrace fluid identities.

“The Chaser” captures suppressed desire—“The room felt too small for the weight of what we weren’t saying” (Peters, 2025, p. 80)—paralleling Susan Stryker’s accounts of queer resistance, offering youth in rural America or urban Asia a narrative to navigate stigma. “The Masker” confronts identity and community—“Sally wants to be the narrator’s mom, but the narrator wants to hang out with a mysterious chaser wearing a black mask” (Peters, 2025, p. 120)—and poses critical questions: “What do we really want? And are we going to choose what is good for us or accept who we are?” (Peters, 2025, p. 130). This resonates with Laverne Cox’s reflections, inspiring readers in global queer communities to build inclusive spaces.

Peters’ critique of gender norms aligns with Janet Mock’s memoirs, urging readers to challenge systemic inequalities, from transphobia in Western societies to restrictive norms in the global south. The collection’s humor and vivid imagery, like “a cascade of obsession, jealousy, and betrayal” (Peters, 2025, p. 30), make it accessible to students in Toronto or professionals in Tokyo. Its Western settings broaden perspectives, as seen in the global appeal of Ocean Vuong’s work. The resonance with universal themes of resilience makes Stag Dance a vital text for readers seeking narratives of defiance and identity.

Stag Dance: A Novel & Stories by Torrey Peters is a bold, genre-blending collection that cements her as a visionary in trans literature. Its vivid prose, captured in quotes like “Thirty-four of us had worked that camp—boomers and bindle stiffs to a man” (Peters, 2025, p. 3) and “What do we really want? And are we going to choose what is good for us or accept who we are?” (Peters, 2025, p. 130), delivers a provocative exploration of gender and desire. For global readers, its resonance with trans and feminist voices like Sylvia Rivera, Judith Butler, and Laverne Cox makes it essential, despite its occasionally over-stylized prose and lack of cohesion. Its vivid imagery— “the whole of creation preened in bridal finery” (Peters, 2025, p. 10)—inspires reflection on societal norms. Highly recommended, Stag Dance is a transformative call to confront gender norms and embrace diverse identities.