The most recommended books on non-binary gender

Here’s a story focused on a gender-atypical main character where the book isn’t about being genderqueer or being nonbinary or whatever.

Birdie’s gender characteristics are just there, the same way that a book set in Manhattan can have Manhattan in the foreground without being a book about Manhattan. I like the way that being gay and being trans are discarded as not really applicable to Birdie without some other replacement identity being pushed forward instead.

One of the most kinetic books I read a few years back and told in a kind of beautiful, white-hot stream of consciousness, Sketchtasy is the tale of young, genderqueer Alexa and her friends navigating pleasure and survival in mid-90s, AIDS-battered Boston.

This is no “model LGBTQ person” book; Alexa and her friends, scarred by trauma and addled by every recreational drug on the planet, are creatures of the night, showing off outrageous looks in the clubs and turning tricks to pay the rent and put food in their mouths.

It’s a breakneck-paced look at both exuberant and terrified young queer people right before HIV went from being a near death sentence to a chronic manageable disease. 

Somewhere in their fourteen-page digression on the 18th-century non-binary American prophet Universal Publick Friend did I realize—once again—that I was nearly done with T Fleischmann’s enchanting book-length essay on transness, time, and art. I have read it three times! As a trans person, I love this book for its meditations on the transitioning body and its sexy tales of intimate encounters. It also offers a critical engagement with the artist Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s work, as well as a memoir of discovery that, like Fleischmann themself, bounces from New York City to rural Tennessee and back again, charting a geography of queer friendship and memory. 

I love gore and emotional resonance, and this book delivers both by the bucketful. It’s well known as one of the gnarliest horror novels in recent memory, but what sometimes gets lost in the conversation is that it’s also one of the most poignant.

I can never resist a story whose central queer relationship is a friendship instead of a romance, and Beth and Fran’s friendship is deliciously fraught with desire, resentment, and the need to trust each other in order to survive in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. It’s not an entirely healthy friendship, but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

I left this book for last because it is, perhaps, the heaviest and most gut-wrenching. In this book, Emezi crafts an exceptional paranormal story showing the true-life difficulties (that is the life-threatening and openly hostile discrimination) faced by LGBT+ people in Nigeria. A fact that’s sadly true in many other African countries too. This book has so many layers, every scene dripping with nuance and a clear tenderness for the subject matter. It would have been easy for this story to remain steeped in tragedy, but Emezi manages to elevate their characters and narrative above that, providing an ultimately heartwarming story that leaves the reader with a sense of wonder and hope while never dismissing the severity of the reality so many LGBT+ people face on the African continent.

Jacob Tobia’s genderqueer coming-out story is the first real genderqueer memoir to be published and carried by a mainstream press.

He’s passionately serious about it but also entertaining and funny, and he makes the concept ‘genderqueer’ easy to understand. He’s a good teacher. And by having already previously come out as gay, he underlines the distinction between sexual orientation and gender identity. 

This was my first read of Jason’s work, and I was pleasantly surprised by just how much I loved it.

The mythology of the world was incredibly well-built, and I loved it when the humans got involved, too. The fat rep was incredible. It’s amazing to read about characters described like myself. The non-binary rep was excellent.

Overall, this was a fun read that I borrowed from the library and then bought because I loved it.

Among the more insidious and tragic consequences of colonialism and its assimilationist policies is the eradication of indigenous conventions around gender and sexuality. In many indigenous communities, gender and sexuality do not operate in as binary as a fashion as they do in European societies.

Highlighting these historical and contemporary possibilities for what we might call queer identities (or “two-spirit” in some communities), is Joshua Whithead’s breathtaking “Indigiqueer” anthology, Love After the End. Contributors amend the provocation, the future is indigenous, to consider how the future is also queer or indigiqueer. 

Weaving between the traditional and the contemporary, the past and the future, the ancestral and the posthuman, these tales of queer joy, love, and thriving remind us of what was lost and what is still possible as we strive toward mass decolonization.

I love this stupid, sexy mess of a book.

Oh, you think you know what the Canterbury Tales is about? No. You don’t. It’s about shagging in pear trees while your blind husband sits below you. It’s about weird non-binary people that your travelling companions don’t know what to make of. It’s about love and death and meaning and fart jokes. The Canterbury Tales is a brilliantly alive, deliciously bawdy, surprisingly disarming work that will help you understand what regular people in the Middle Ages wanted to read about.

For bonus points, get a hold of the Riverside Chaucer translation because medieval historians like to be thingy about that. I’ll take any version as long as you read it, though. 

Surprise, it’s a nonfiction book! Almost all my recommendations have been for novels, but they’re actually not all I read (I promise!). Now, it’s so secret that I’m a big old nonbinary person, but there’s so much more to nonbinary thinking than sexuality and gender identity.

This book details all the ways in which we limit ourselves by thinking of the world in simplistic binary terms, and it does so in a friendly and informative style.

Challenging binary thought patterns has a much wider scope that I can truly cover here, and it’s hard to convey just how much of our culture is based on an either/or mentality. This is a book that can help expand anyone’s perspective, whatever their identity happens to be.