Fans pick 100 books like The Alchemy of Moonlight

To me, what’s most striking about this book, a queer retelling of “Snow White,” is that in addition to the POV of the Snow White character, Lynet, there’s also narration from Mina, the Evil Queen insert. Only in this retelling Mina isn’t a superficial villain.

In fact, she’s no villain at all. I find her to be a complex heroine, and her relationship with Lynet is equally rich and complicated. I was compelled by Lynet and Mina’s struggles under the weight of feminine and royal expectations. Despite their conflicts, they are more alike than they are different, and their journey to realizing this was so satisfying.

The sapphic romance between Lynet and a surgeon provides a lovely subplot that adds to, rather than distracts from, the main storyline. One of my all-time favorite sapphic retellings.

This book, a retelling of “Cinderella,” is widely considered to be a foundational queer retelling, and I wholeheartedly agree with that assessment.

It was the first queer retelling I ever read and continues to be a favorite. It inspired me to write my own queer retellings and is a fine example of a novel that didn’t need sweeping battles and world-ending threats to be compelling.

I found Ash’s journey through grief and her path to love to be strong in their own ways. Quietly powerful stories like Ash are what I most enjoy, though they are a rarity, especially in YA, where things tend to be very high stakes.

No novelization of “The Goblin Market,” a poem by Christina Rosetti, has convinced me of the market’s allure like Not Good for Maidens. Lou, the novel’s main character, reflected my feelings in the beginning of the story, expressing confusion as to why anyone would enter the market knowing its horrors.

But as the past timeline of the novel developed, in which Lou’s Aunt May visited the market and began an unexpected sapphic romance, and as Lou had her own experiences related to the market in the present timeline, it was easier to understand why someone would be tempted. 

In their respective timelines, Lou and May search for themselves, desperate to forge identities unbound by family and duty. The market, in a way, grants them unique paths toward freedom, and I found that to be a compelling take on a classic I was never enchanted by before. Bovalino’s prose, illuminating… show more.

I loved McLemore’s retelling of “The Red Shoes” because the novel felt uniquely historical and modern due to its dual timelines, with one storyline in 1518 and the other five centuries later. Despite being so far apart, the timelines were connected by the intriguing mystery of a dancing fever. 

Another element I loved is that the 1518 timeline featured a queer romance with a trans character, which you don’t see often, even in queer retellings, and added another layer of richness to the story.

I’m a fan of everything McLemore writes because of their lush prose and compelling characters, but this one remains my favorite of theirs.

We’ll start with another novel (there are many) inspired in part by the Leopold and Loeb crime. This one swaps Chicago for Pittsburgh, and changes their mismatch in IQs for a stark class divide.

One of the variations I most enjoy in this retelling is that university students Paul Fleischer and Julian Fromme are both damaged when they meet. Julian is scarred physically from a car crash in his youth, and Paul is still recovering emotionally from the death of his father.

Additionally, since the book is set in the 1970s, their sexual involvement with one another is more explicit than the original story could allow (though it still comes with social stigma).

A captivating work of dark academia and crime, the obsession between these two compels them to court their own ruin.

Unlike the other recommendations I’ve given so far, this one is an ongoing series… and a manga.

Now, before you pull back. What if I told you that in addition to the beautiful art, this series had some of the most incredible and complex characters that I’ve seen in queer romance? What if I told you that it touched upon important topics like grief, internalized homophobia, familial expectations, depression, and what it’s like growing up gay in Japan?

Not to mention the sweet, spicy scenes between the two main characters as they grow together in their relationship. It’s one of my all time favorites and even if you aren’t a big manga reader or into anime, it truly is worth it.

This book is fast-paced: within the first chapter, the titular captive prince, Damon, is enslaved, stripped of his royal identity, and gifted to Laurent, the young prince of a decadent foreign court. Damon, yet another straightforward soldier type (they pair so well with the slippery types), is immediately caught up in the byzantine machinations of Laurent and his uncle and is hilariously out of his depth without ever seeming to realize it.

I appreciate Damon, but I adore Laurent. He is so snarky and cool-headed, running absolute rings around Damon and playing the game like a champion despite the very poor hand his uncle has dealt him. It’s a slow-burn romance, and I loved watching their relationship evolve slowly.

There are very few books that capture the particular suffering of loving someone and not being loved back.

Greenwell’s powerful debut novel is one of them. Set in the capital city of Bulgaria, the novel begins with an encounter that the narrator, an American teacher working abroad, has with Mitko, a sex worker. It is written in prose whose beauty, beat by beat, is as achingly beautiful as the unrequited love the narrator has for Mitko. This is one to savor slowly.

My copy is heavily underlined. Garth, a trained opera singer, reads like a dream. Accompany your reading with his readings from the work (they’re on YouTube). 

This was the first novel I read about immigration, queerness, and Muslimness, the complex reasons why people choose to live in the Global South, and the complex reasons why people choose to leave.

I love the writing: it is lyrical and intimate, and the characters have stayed with me long since.  

Originally written in French, and translated by Donald Winkler, Querelle of Roberval is set in working-class Quebec, it has as its hero a young gay man, Querelle, who moves into the lumber town of Roberval.

The social dynamic of the town is upended as men both out and closeted are drawn to his Adonis-like beauty—so well-described that I fell in love with him. Meanwhile, as a mill strike causes the interclass tensions to rise. Winner of the Marquis de Sade Prize, this gem is an ode to Jean Genet, male beauty, and the literary form of the tragedy.