Full disclosure, I meant to post this during Pride Month and just completely forgot about it, so that's my bad! But here it is now! These are not necessarily my favorite books with queer people in general, but my favorite books in which the story and plot are heavily impacted by the queerness of the characters, so keep that in mind if you're interested in reading any of them.
Herla, Lord of the Hunt, rides along the sky with her hunters for hundreds of years after making a deal with the King of the Otherworld. Aethel is a Saxon queen forced to endure court gossip over her lack of children with King Ine, and something much darker and bloodier brooding beneath the surface of their land. King Ine is asexual, but otherwise kind of useless. Listen, sometimes queer people suck. That's still representation.
I do think this is one of the first queer romances I've ever read, and because of that, it has such a special place in my heart. It's made even more special by the fact that it's mythology / history, which is such a hard genre to find queer romance in (outside of Greek mythology, of course, and even then it can't always be described as "romance" if you get what I mean). It's quiet yet relentless insistence that queer people either were included in everything, or easily can be included in everything. Song of the Huntress is the perfect mix of action and romance, romance fueled by action, and action led by romance. The two are so intricately tied together, and Herla and Aethel match each other bar-for-bar. I LOVED their relationship. As much as I love the opposites attract trope, and two partners fitting themselves in the spaces that the other leaves open, there is something so rich and so fun about a romance between two characters who are so similar. Watching them team up on Ine was a genuine blast.
Speaking of Ine, it's such a nice feeling to be blind sighted by ace rep. You usually have to go looking for that kind of thing, but I knew nothing about Ine until I got about halfway through the book. And Ine's not a bad guy, he's just super avoidant and cowardly, and makes a lot of things Aethel's problem when they should not have been.
Song of the Huntress walked so The Burning Kingdom's Trilogy could sprint.
If you've ever watched Stranger Things, I would recommend pretty much all of the novel add-ons. They all do a much better job of representing the bigotry and close-mindedness of small towns than the show does, from the homophobia Robin fears to the constant racism Lucas faces (seriously,
Lucas on the Line is a book everyone should read).
Rebel Robin, I think, does a much better job of explaining the fear and stress that comes with being closeted in an space that wishes you didn't exist at all, the eagerness to leave, and yet the homes you build for yourself within your own small and secret communities. There is as much hope as there is terror, in fact, hope trumps terror in almost every situation. There is no shame in leaving, but there is no shame in standing your ground either. Your queerness and the way you protect it is for you to decide, and for no one else to judge.
The part of Rebel Robin that sticks with me, even years after I read it, was that despite what Robin - and other queer kids like her in Hawkins, of which there are several - they can never be entirely removed. They will never be flushed out. Queer people will always find a way to survive, to love, to be happy, and that is such a heartwarming theme to end on, I was almost surprised that level of awareness could stem from a stranger things story.
Believe it or not, I am a fan. I just hate the duffer brothers so, so deeply. But this book is great, as is the podcast side-story, which is free on Spotify!
Now we're getting serious.
This is How You Lose the Time War is one of the fastest, most batshit books I've ever read. It's this book and
I Who Have Never Known Men, and that's it. A complete league of their own. The book is written by two authors "playing" two different characters, Red and Blue, agents from rival operations who leave notes to one another to taunt the other on their failure, or brag about their success. Slowly, these notes turn less into taunts and more into full-fledged love letters, in an incredibly bizarre yet captivating love story that has yet to be matched by anything else.
It's one of those books where it's really hard to give a long synopsis of why you adore it, you just do. The writing is beautiful, the formatting is stunning, the characters are interesting and their love is at limitless as the dimensions they travel between. That's about all there is too it. It's truly a queer romance in a league all its own, and I can't get enough of it.
Now I don't know a lot about erotic poetry, but this erotic poetry is pretty dang good. I'm kinda like that really annoying uncle at a party who won't leave you alone when you say you don't like something, like "oh I don't really like mustard", and then I go "but you haven't tried my FAMOUS SEVEN-INGREDIENT MUSTARD" and then I make you try it. That's me when it comes to poetry and this book; if you think you don't like poetry it's probably because you haven't found the right kind of poetry, and this might be it!
This book is heartbreaking; written in the perspective of a gay man as he considers the struggles of vulnerability, devotion, and loss, using some of the most stunning writing you could possibly imagine. Richard Siken is an evil, evil man, with a magic pen to write with, and I thank him for it every day. Eroticism and intimacy are not necessary mutually inclusive terms, and there are certain sections or entire poems where I could point out the distinction between the two, as well as places where they overlapped. He's that good.
The whole thing is just so painful. So painful, so rich, so raw, I've never read anything like it before and I've never read anything like it since. Seriously, if you've ever considered giving poetry a try (even if it's another try), I would recommend this book. It's so fast and yet so impressively heavy.
Yeah, I know, I know. "Astrid, why do you keep bringing up this book?" Because it's GOOD, mind your business. After Benji escapes from the cult he was raised in, he finds himself taking refuge in an LGBTQ+ Youth Center with a handful of other queer kids, looking to survive the religious-centric apocalypse. WHAT a concept, to start, and what fucking articulation Andrew Joseph White conveys it with.
Now we know how I feel about Andrew Joseph White. I love that man. He specializes in writing gay, trans male characters, and he does it spectacularly every single time. But this book is maybe the gayest thing I've ever read, which is the highest compliment I could give anything. There is so much representation in so many different ways, and it all feels authentic, and done out of love. I'm sure if you read a lot of queer stories, you're familiar with the feeling of queer representation done to check a box, and not really out of care for the community. This book is the opposite of that. Each character's identity is treated with compassion, understanding, and respect, and not as a gimmick to play up.
More than that, the story is just good. Mixed with the religious aspect from the cult (and the entire apocalypse, but that's all I'll say on that to avoid spoilers), there's so many layers to Benji's queer identity, and his fight to present and identify the way he wants. It's all just so good, each intricate piece is so important to who he is, and the book means so much to me. Andrew Joseph White also recently released an article about how he uses deadnaming in his stories, and it's super interesting. If you're up for it, I'd definitely recommend checking it out.
Obviously I've read more queer books than these five, but these are the five that I find myself thinking about often, and routinely going back to. Queer representation, queer love, queer identities are important to uplift and recognize, and books have such a huge impact on the way we live in and perceive the world around us (to put it lightly), it's so important to highlight these stories, and press just how crucial they are. Happy Reading!
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