Bad Habit – Alana S. Portero
Some novels feel like memoirs, not because they’re confessional, but because they pulse with lived-in truth. “Bad Habit,” Alana S. Portero’s autofictional debut, is one of those books.
Set in a working-class suburb of Madrid during the waning decades of the 20th century, the novel follows a trans girl growing up in a place defined by poverty and patriarchy. The unnamed narrator is offered little by her environment — no safety, no language, no space to exist — yet she finds pieces of herself anyway, often in the women the city discards.
There’s violence here, both structural and personal, but Portero never exploits it. Like Leila Mottley’s “Nightcrawling,” “Bad Habit” isn’t interested in trauma as spectacle. It’s interested in survival, especially for those pushed to the margins.
What stood out most to me were the quiet moments of affirmation: a boyfriend who calls her by a gender-affirming name, a trans neighbor the community rallies around, a brother who never needed convincing and parents who didn't understand but still loved.
It also reminded me of the show “Pose” — women on the margins, building chosen family and surviving together. There’s a deep sense of sisterhood here, between sex workers, elders and fellow outcasts who offer protection, wisdom and, however briefly, safety.
Portero’s prose flirts with magical realism in tone and metaphor, but stays grounded in truth. She doesn’t dwell on her narrator’s “otherness” or overexplain transness. She simply evokes what it feels like to be unseen for who you are, desired when you don’t yet love yourself and constantly endangered.
As you’d expect, this is far from a fairy tale, but it follows a quiet kind of hero’s arc. After a brutal assault, the narrator retreats from living openly as a woman and spirals into mental illness. Years later, she returns home, where she begins to reconnect with her parents and, through caring for her dying trans neighbor, slowly begins to heal — and, ultimately, accept herself.
If I have a critique, it’s the audiobook narration. Alexandra Grey’s performance felt too flat for a novel so emotionally textured. I also found myself wishing for a little more historical context, though that’s more a gap in my own knowledge than the book’s responsibility.
Still, this will stay with me. It’s deeply empathetic without ever being sentimental. TERFs would do well to read it as Portero doesn’t make an argument for trans womanhood; she shows it, as it is: complex and joyful. Biology is the least interesting part of anyone’s identity. What matters is how you live your truth, and what it costs when you can’t.
Thanks to Libro.fm, HarperAudio and the author for the audiobook. This exchange of goods did not affect my review.
Rating (story): 4/5 stars
Rating (narration): 2/5 stars
Format: Audiobook (personal library)
Dates read: May 11 – May 12, 2025
Multi-tasking: Not recommended. The story jumps around in time and includes touches of magical realism, which can make it hard to pin down the setting. The writing is immersive, but the audiobook doesn’t always keep up.
