100 books like My Brother's Husband, Volume 1

I’m always a sucker for something sweet, wholesome, and low-to-no stakes when it comes to my gay manga.

It’s a sweet and wholesome story about a mom who realizes her eldest son is gay, but gives him the space, respect, and privacy to come out in his own time. She also makes a point to defend her son’s sexuality without outing him to others. It made me crack up because I remember being that eldest son - thinking I was slick at hiding my sexuality, when I really wasn’t.

I also love how the mom gives her son the space he needs and respects his privacy. A super mom, for sure!

I can’t find another way to describe it - this book is just funny!

An autobiographical story about the author’s struggles to find a girlfriend and the general difficulties of dating, this book kept putting me in my own feelings because I recognized so many of those emotions. I used to believe that dating in the gay community was easy. (It’s not.)

I love it whenever someone manages to take an aspect of being gay and show the difficulties in a relatable or humorous way. I feel like almost everyone, gay or straight, can relate to the difficulties of dating. I also love that the author is not afraid to poke a little fun at herself in a healthy way. Sometimes, that’s how you get through the struggle!

I thought that this book was such a fun way to turn the “magical girl” trope on its head by taking a trans boy, Max, and having him discover he’s the descendant of a long line of magical girls. You can’t set up that premise and not expect some shenanigans.

I’ve always loved the “magical girl” genre, and it all felt very “Sailor Moon” to me. I felt a lot for Max, considering my own personal issues with trying to get my family to understand my gender. It’s a complicated thing, and adding magical girl powers into the mix? I’ll take on gender issues any day! Frankly, I’m amazed no one thought to do something like this sooner!

I rarely see asexual representation in the media, but with this book, I got a beautiful story about a girl finding her worth outside of a relationship while she starts to understand her own sexuality.

Like the main character, Chika, I have often heard people write off asexuality, saying things like “Oh, you just haven’t met the right person!” which can make asexual people feel isolated or “broken” - another experience Chika has as well.

Watching her learn about her own feelings and come to terms with who she is is a powerful experience that I, and many other young LGBTQ+ readers, will feel connected to. Getting to experience a story that so eloquently describes experiences like these always warms my heart because I know that it helps people feel a connection, and I’m always happy to see more representation.

I like to branch out into different genres, and I’ve recently started getting into Manga. This is a really wonderful series about a gay couple—one of whom loves to try out new dishes the other is always eager to try—whose relationship deepens over the meals they enjoy together. It’s something that really touched a chord in me, as someone who also uses food as a love language.

Although not coastal, this book’s Palm Springs setting is full of swimming pools and a feeling of escape to somewhere new. I laughed, I cried, and I adored the dynamic between Patrick and his adorable niece and nephew.

Secondary characters, such as the three neighbors and other family members, added depth and emotion to the story. I seriously read this book in 24 hours!

This novel is everything—a school story, a coming-of-age story, a fish-out-of-water story as well as being chock-full of swords and sorcery. It follows genius mechanist Kiram Kir-Zaki as he journeys far away from his home to attend the prestigious Sagrada Academy where he hopes to make the connections that will earn him a place in the king’s court. Instead, he finds himself shunned on account of his race and compelled to share a room with a man who is widely believed to have no soul. If two hot outcasts being forced to share a room and eventually falling so deeply in love that death itself cannot separate them, then this book is your cup of tea.

I was a freshman in college and still closeted about my homosexuality when I found Numbers in an LGBTQ+ bookstore. The description on the dust jacket got my blood racing: in an effort to reclaim his youth, a handsome gay man strikes out to see how many sexual conquests he can rack up during a ten-day stay in L.A. I bought the book and read it in my dorm room when my roommate wasn’t around.

I got more than I bargained for. Along with descriptions of sexual encounters, the novel opened my eyes to the ramifications of internalized homophobia and explored the value of sex among an oppressed people who are persecuted for their carnal desires. This novel written in 1967 spoke to me across the decades. It still can.

Forster captures the loneliness and enforced celibacy many experienced when homosexuality was criminalized, and which I also experienced.

Forster had his first sexual experience at 37. His hero Maurice, like characters in many novels of the early twentieth century, tries therapy to change himself, and remains in a celibate relationship until his partner marries a woman. Maurice was published after Forster’s death, though it was written six decades earlier.

It inspired younger writers like Isherwood and was made into a great film with the young Hugh Grant as Maurice’s partner Clive. Forster’s statement that he would not have bothered to write unless he could give his hero a happy ending, also inspired my fiction-writing.

The book that put British literary giant Hollinghurst on the map in 1988, this gorgeously written, fast-paced novel follows Will, a ridiculously privileged, idle, and good-looking young gay man in early 1980s London who has torrid sexual affairs with a racially diverse group of working-class men and also inadvertently saves the life of a very elderly gay aristocratic man with a homoerotic colonial past.

With its Forsterian attunement to the prejudices and vanities of the Thatcher-era British upper class, its explicit evocation of the early 20th century gay British novelist Ronald Firbank and its sometimes cringe-y look at cross-class and cross-racial desire, the novel showcases gay men driven ecstatically and obsessively by both libidinous and aesthetic yearnings—all of them oblivious to the dark clouds of AIDS gathering on London’s horizon.