Still Life by Katherine Packert Burke

Katherine Packert Burke’s debut, Still Life, is a quietly stunning exploration of queer and trans life that revels in the ordinary while plumbing extraordinary emotional depths. With sharp humor and astute observations, Burke captures the nuances of identity, relationships, and loss, layering her narrative with reflections on art, literature, and, in a particularly poignant touch, Sondheim musicals.

At its center is Edith, a trans woman in her late 20s, adrift in a life she can’t seem to anchor. Living in Austin, she’s ostensibly working on her second book, but her days are mostly spent cycling through dating apps, attending parties, and protesting the rising tide of anti-trans legislation. She is haunted by the loss of her best friend and former lover, Val, whose death has trapped Edith in a fog of grief and nostalgia for her Boston past.

A reluctant trip back to Boston—invited by a college friend to speak to his creative writing class—forces Edith to confront the fragments of her old life. During the visit, she reconnects with her ex-girlfriend, Tessa, whom she dated before her transition. The novel shifts seamlessly between Edith’s turbulent present and her equally chaotic past, focusing on her complex and shifting relationships with Tessa and Val. These two women, central to Edith’s life, represent moments of both profound connection and loss. Val’s death and Edith’s coming out as trans form the emotional core of the novel, reshaping not just Edith’s relationships but her entire sense of self.

Though Still Life eschews a conventional plot, it thrives in its rich exploration of Edith’s interior world. Without the distraction of external events driving the narrative, Burke zeroes in on the textures of grief, desire, identity, and queer love with remarkable precision and empathy. Edith’s journey is anything but linear—it is messy, looping, and at times stagnant, mirroring the nonlinear process of navigating life’s changes. Burke writes with an expansiveness that embraces both the sweet and the difficult aspects of queer friendship, exploring how these bonds evolve alongside the people who form them.

More than anything, Still Life is a meditation on change. Its power lies not in dramatic events, but in the way its characters process and feel their way through life’s transformations. Edith’s struggle to reconcile her thoughts with the material realities of her body and her world is deeply human, resonating with anyone who has grappled with the inescapable nature of change.

With warmth, wit, and insight, Still Life stands as a celebration of queer and trans resilience, an ode to the beauty and complexity of friendships, and a thoughtful reflection on what it means to live in a world that is constantly shifting. Burke’s debut is not just a novel—it’s a tender and resonant portrait of life itself.