100 books like The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

There’s a reason this book is called Slippery Creatures (aside from all the Shakespeare references), and it’s not because of straightforward, upright, just-a-bit-stroppy ex-soldier Will Darling.

Having accidentally inherited a highly sought-after secret along with his uncle’s bookstore, he’s practically surrounded by slippery creatures, not least of whom is Kim, a helpful aristocrat with unclear intentions, a shady past, a delightful fiancée, and an awful lot of baggage.

I became so invested in their relationship that I actually looked into whether Will would be eligible to be drafted in WWII. And no matter how often I re-read it, I laugh whenever I get to certain little jokes or witty exchanges. It’s funny, clever, touching, and so engaging.

The descriptive writing in this book is beautiful and full of evocative metaphors and similes. Still, it’s the central relationship between the forthright Robin and the secretive, standoffish Edwin that keeps me re-reading it repeatedly.

Unlike the first few recommendations, we see Edwin’s POV, so we know straightaway why he feels the need to hide his true intentions and desires. We also get to experience his quiet, almost reluctant yearning as his and Robin’s shaky friendship turns into more. This one is a lovely, well-developed romance and generally an excellent historical fantasy with an interesting world-building and magic system.

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.

This book feels like a cozy, comfortable read: two lovely people being lovely to each other, particularly around being gentle with each other’s past traumas. But it also has plenty of plot, humor, and wonderful characters; I particularly appreciate Demas’s talent for quick and simple but highly effective character sketches.

Damiskos is another straightforward ex-soldier type, innocently visiting an old friend to buy fish sauce and unprepared to encounter plotting philosophers. Varazda, a eunuch and slave, is prickly in a fun-to-read way until he begins to trust Damiskos, and then it’s wonderful to see how well they work together, both in unraveling the scheme and in supporting and caring for each other. On a more superficial note, I adore Varazda’s outfits.

If a book could smell like jasmine and taste like clover honey, it would be this. 

We loved losing ourselves in the warm, sticky, bitter-sweet nostalgia of a small Georgia hometown, where you can practically hear the crickets and smell the night-blooming flowers. We had our hearts broken by a story of childhood friends turned lovers, turned dirty little secrets, turned estranged, turned something fragile but precious.

We were left breathless by Sander Santiago’s descriptions of grief, acceptance, and the fully caramelized romance between golden sunshine boy Fin (ballplayer turned med student) and taciturn bad boy Orion (delinquent turned musician).

There’s a whole bit about pain being broken down between guilt and hope that absolutely killed us. Good cry turned warm and fuzzies.

Asexual characters need a lot more visibility, especially with positive representation. This book in particular captures how people see certain people as not "normal" because of different sexuality. Gay romance books are often expected to have sex in them, but this one staying true to asexual themes shows that a sexless romance can be just as valid. It's a slow-burn connection that develops into a deep, unforgettable relationship between men who come to understand each other by looking past their differences and taking the time to learn about the other.

Sass’s first novel, Surrender Your Sons, is a favorite of mine, so it’s no surprise that this book, a queer horror novel reminiscent of Scream, is a riot and an absolute page-turner.

It contains all the best elements of slasher movies and teen comedies alike, and unabashedly gay characters with wit and sharp edges kept me invested all the way until the story’s climactic ending. 

I still remember when this book came out my senior year of high school, and how ridiculously excited my friends and I were to find out about it. It was probably one of my first times finding some good, wholesome gay representation in manga.

An unknown brother-in-law traveling from Canada to Japan to meet his husband’s family, with personal character growth about gay acceptance? Sign me up!

I feel like I’m always down to read more about family dynamics that aren’t your typical nuclear setup, so this is just a win-win for me.

It’s Oscar Wilde and the cast of Monty Python having an orgy on the set of Bridgerton–what’s not to love? 

Alexis Hall is an auto-buy author for us, and Something Fabulous is one of our favorites. It’s a hysterical romp–sexy and romantic but also deeply irreverent and laugh-out-loud funny. Chock full of shenanigans, relatable and diverse characters, and a fresh reimagining of Regency romance.

We love a grumpy duke. We love a chaotic, wide-eyed ward. We LOVE Sir Horley Comewithers and his questionable cabin in the woods. There’s a scene with a bee that has caused irreparable damage to our lungs and ribs. 

You know what I like about Donald Strachey? His boyfriend. I’m kidding—Strachey’s fine.

He’s a smart, tough detective in the hard-boiled tradition so of course I like him, but do you ever think way more of someone because they had the good taste to pick the partner they did? Timothy Callahan is a Jesuit-educated political aide, former Peace Corps volunteer and one of those characters who gets called a “moral centre” because they are one.

I was half in love with him before he (accurately) dissed Mother Teresa but I adored him after that. I came to the Strachey books for canny, realistic and never twee gay detective fiction but I’ve stayed for Timmy. He’s a soothing, reaffirming, hilarious wonder and you never know—he might smack-talk Gandhi next.