The best fantasy books for (re)defining your queer, magical self

On a moon we’ve never named, in a time far distant from our own, humanity has finally begun to live in harmony with nature, every element of their lives a sustainable, compassionate part of the world. But even in utopia, Sibling Dex (they/them) cannot articulate the dissatisfaction that drives them to leave home and become a traveling tea monk.

Through Dex’s adventures with the wild-built robot Mosscap (it), Chambers shows us that the search for self-meaning and our place in the world crosses time and space, that the fear and desire that compel us to seek a better understanding of ourselves is an essential quality of humanity, of sapience, and of life. Dex is queer, but their journey of self-discovery is one that will inspire and touch every reader who has felt unmoored in the world.

Csorwe’s fate is to enter the Shrine of the Unspoken and die on her fourteenth birthday. In classic orc lesbian fashion, she decides not to do that, turning her back on destiny to become the sword hand of an outcast wizard (and the tall, buff orc lady of your dreams).

Csorwe’s journey of self-definition begins at fourteen; she knows who she doesn’t want to be. In her burgeoning adulthood, Csorwe is forced to confront who she was and decide who she wants to be; a parallel that will resonate with many queer readers as they cheer Csorwe through swordfights, betrayals, and becoming brave enough to stand up for herself, again.

This is a story that challenges our understanding of identity–Zhu is a girl, and she is a male novice in a monastery. Zhu wears her dead brother’s name like armor and schemes to make his fate hers as well. Zhu is as unapologetically callous as the world that discarded her. Zhu lives as a man and never wishes to live as a woman, but her pronouns never change.

Her story forces the reader to confront the heavy hand of circumstance in our lives and our definition of self. Zhu performs gender without regret or longing, it is a tool of her survival; instead, she defines herself in her ambition. And even though the person that Zhu ultimately chooses to become isn’t one we might admire, her relationship to gender speaks to those of us who sit between the boundaries of gender, who move between, or who fill more than one space.

Thirsty for more buff orc lesbians? Legends & Lattes serves up a mug of warm, cozy queer fulfillment. Viv was an adventurer, but she no longer wants to be. Despite her battle scars and intimidating looks, she longs to open her own quiet coffee shop.

The journey to small-business success has challenges, but her determination to live on her own terms brews up a staff of misfits that become a queer-found family. This quiet, low-stakes novel is as sweet as an almond croissant and will leave you hungry for more.

Immediately following the events of Gideon the Ninth, the reader is thrust into the wreckage of Harrow just as lost as she is, both reader and character engaged in a mind-bending fight to unravel the mystery of who she is now and what she will become.

This is a sequel, and can’t be read without first reading Gideon the Ninth. And it is impossible to fully articulate this book’s place on this list without robbing the reader of the experience found in Harrow’s self-discovery. But I had to include it anyway; this book made me crazy (positive), it made me despair (as in I will never write something this cool), and it made me reflect on all the ways that queer people compartmentalize ourselves, the ways we perform normativity and queerness, and how mind-bending it can be when we try to sort the pieces of ourselves out into something new and whole.