The most recommended gay fantasy books

I really love a good anti-hero and Ariana Nash delivers it in this series.

The story centers around a soldier and a prince bound by dark magic. Needless to say, the soldier hates the monarchy, prince included, which instantly drives the conflict between the two. This is a slow-burn romance. The way the prince uses the soldier is reprehensible until you figure out why he does it.

Can he be redeemed? I think so. 

I’ve been a huge advocate for queer representation in kids’ and YA stories for years, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to crave stories about queer adults. I want to know what life looks like after coming out, after coming of age. That’s why I was delighted to discover A Marvellous Light, an Edwardian-era romantic caper chock-full of sprawling country manors, scheming aristocrats, and lots and lots of magic!

If you’re looking for a golden retriever/black cat romance with Jane Austen or E. M. Forster vibes, this one might be for you, though the previous warning regarding unsuspecting cishets still applies: despite its old-timey setting, this book doesn’t pull any punches in its steamier scenes, taking a refreshingly frank and direct approach to sexuality. 

This book was billed as a magical gay murder cruise, and I was so thrilled to discover that it more than lived up to the pitch.

Dee, the loveably insecure and absolutely hilarious protagonist, had me cheering for him the whole way through the book as he works to uncover who is killing his fellow passengers. With the help of a delightful found family nicknamed the Swarm, Dee realizes that not only is he cut out for the task—he’s truly the only man for the job.

This book made me laugh and cry and ultimately touched me deeply as it spoke to coming to trust and love oneself. 

Reentering the world of myth is something I haven’t done much since college.

Frankly, the characters weren’t identifiable to me, even if the stories were timeless and I could see them repeated in books, movies, and stories I loved. Then came The Song of Achilles and suddenly the fairy-tale characters took on more real lives, became real people. Even if they were Greek gods, they acted as mortals, the way we do.

The stories I tell have similar mythic characters, who act in ways that we don’t expect, who do things we could do, but don’t out of fear of ridicule or worse. But in the end, some succeed and some fail, just like in life.

I loved this book because it was something I read a long time ago but returned to at a different time in my life with a fresh perspective.

A science fiction classic first published in 1969, so many of the themes in this book feel especially relevant today. It involves political intrigue, gender politics, and learning a new culture, but through the lens of a relationship between two people from entirely different planets.

LeGuin manages to create an alien world that is very, very human. N. K. Jemisin, in her introduction to the 2018 volume of The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy, says, “The purpose of science fiction, as Ursula K. Leguin intimated in her introduction to The Left Hand of Darkness, is not to predict the future but to describe the world as it presently is,” and I think that is a very powerful notion.

A blend of humor and Chinese fantasy, The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System was my first brush with the Chinese sub-genre of transmigration novels, similar but different from Western portal fantasy or Japanese isekai. The main character ends up in a world not his own, and in the process of trying to make it better, comes rather close to destroying it. That dissonance between intention and results is something I absolutely love in my heroes. Competence is boring. I want to see (and write) messiness and complacency and efforts made that perhaps weren’t thought out all the way. That, to me, is not only humor but true heroism.

This book falls under the category “urban fiction” or “magical realism” or “western” or…something. At least, that’s what drew me to it in the first place. It takes place in America’s old west, features magic-using criminals leading a gang and draws on some Native American lore. The magic is terrifying, it’s a mix of environmental and mind-altering hoodoo. The most powerful antagonist is rugged, homosexual, unashamed, and a conflicted terror of a person. His partner in crime is simply terrifying. Together, they drive a trilogy that’s so well threaded through the old west you can taste the grit as you turn the page. Though the emphasis is on the pursuit of magic and the machinations it drives, the settings are a delight to experience. Files weaves a world in these novels that is equally fascinating and terrifying. Her prose and daring are an inspiration.

Don’t be like me and put off reading this fabulous book because you were daunted by its thickness! Yes, it’s a doorstop. But it is by no means a dense read—indeed, it’s that rarest and best of things, a spectacular page-turner.

The Priory of the Orange Tree is often described as feminist and queer, and sure, it is, but don’t be put off by that either: it never feels like it’s making a point of those issues. It has the vibe of an adventurous, fascinating, magical, old-school Big Thick Fantasy Novel that just so happens to have a lot of main characters who are female and/or queer.

Those aspects felt utterly natural, which I loved. Plus? Dragons! Good ones as well as terrifying ones. Epic fantasy lovers, treat yourself to this novel ASAP.

Dark Factory is a very strange object, as it is both a book and an electronic device, as you can scan QR codes and click on links in order to get extra information through bonus chapters.

A tale of electronic music madness and extreme clubbing, Dark Factory focuses on the personalities and motives of a few central characters dedicated to starting a total revolution of the senses through their “art total” experiment.

This book really tickled me in all the good places as it tackles themes that readers can find in my own city-state novels, such as power, subversion, and the methodical destruction of reality.

It’s the early 1990s, and a “horse crazy” teenager discovers a fantasy novel with a striking white horse and a handsome, dark-haired young man on the cover at her local K-Mart. Okay, so I’ve dated myself, but I’m not going to lie. A horse and a cute boy got me into reading Mercedes Lackey’s tales of Valdemar, and Magic’s Pawn was the first book I discovered. A fantasy novel with a horse that could talk to you and magic powers was the perfect escape for a teenager, and I’m not alone. Many readers discovered Valdemar, and more importantly, a gay protagonist, through these books, and Mercedes Lackey’s work has touched us all in the decades since.

Keep the tissues handy, but this series remains one of my favorite comfort reads. Reading any Valdemar book is like coming home to old, dear friends, and Vanyel’s story sets the stage for so… show more.