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Fun Home is Alison Bechdel’s most famous work (and it is phenomenal), but this one captured my heart. While the former focuses on her father, here Bechdel turns her focus on her relationship with her mother, weaving in a lot of psychoanalysis and modernist literature.

Bechdel’s characteristic intricacy and attention to detail are on full display, and the frequent inclusion of dreams and their interpretation (a particular interest of mine) make the whole book feel almost surreal yet completely grounded.

I love all of Sarah Waters’ works, but Fingersmith ranks among my most obsessively adored books of all time. I find it a near-perfect interweaving of meticulously researched historical fiction—penned with Dickensian flair and grace—and compulsively page-turning thriller, marked by brilliant and utterly unforeseeable plot twists that will leave you slack-jawed.

It somehow manages to be wickedly funny, poignantly tragic, powerfully feminist, and gratifyingly steamy all at once. I also loved the Korean film adaptation of it, The Handmaiden, which not only embraces Fingersmith’s anti-patriarchal themes but ingeniously weaves anti-colonialist elements into the by setting it in Japan-occupied Korea in the 1930s.  

In this slender, fictionalized account of the “hidden in plain sight” romance between sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued reporter Lorena Hickok and larger-than-life First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, we get a gloriously slanted insiders’ view of a pivotal period in American history. This is emphatically a “lesbian love story”—explicit in its depictions of both the pleasures of female sensuality and the tolls of enforced secrecy. It is also—bluntly and forthrightly—a “middle-aged love story,” with all the attendant sea changes, accommodations, and regrets. Most of all, it’s the story of the two wittiest, savviest, best-positioned women anyone could ever encounter. “As Churchill said (to me),” the fictional Lorena begins one of her marvelous anecdotes. And the thing is, he probably did.   

Spears’ compelling tale of Jodie Taylor—a lesbian coming of age in the American South of the 1950s and 1960s—smoothly draws readers into that overall time and place through details of setting (a “Pepto-Bismol pink trailer raised on cinder blocks”), behavior (a girl gleefully pouring salted peanuts into an RC Cola) and history (the Birmingham Church bombing) before plunging us into the far-less-familiar inner world of mid-century Southern lesbians. We gain privileged entrée into wildly rollicking bars and snugly welcoming kitchens; witness acts of treachery and acts of fierce loyalty; come to know women of tough skins and tender hearts. “It takes living queer to understand who we are,” one character confidently asserts. But through this adeptly crafted book, Spears opens up that understanding to us all.    

Shatter the Sky is a quick-read YA high fantasy. It’s the story of Maren, who wants to live an ordinary life with her girlfriend, Kaia. When Kaia is kidnapped, Maren decides to apprentice herself to the Aromatory—the emperor’s mysterious dragon tamer—as a first step in her rescue plan. 

Shatter the Sky features a number of diverse characters and a sapphic romance and has been highly praised for breaking ground in the YA fantasy realm. I particularly enjoyed the Aromatory, the new take on dragons, and a main character who begins by viewing herself as unimportant but progresses to accepting her power and recognizing her value. Maren’s story continues—with ramped-up stakes, more dragons, and a complicated political plot in the meatier second book in this duology—Storm the Earth.

In contrast to stereotypes about lesbians that framed them as bra-burning, men-hating, hairy-legged feminists, Lauren Gutterman evocatively shows how the emergence of post-World War II lesbian desire took place at the center of American life, in the suburbs, often in marriages to men and heterosexual families with children. Married women rejected divorce or labelling themselves as lesbians even while they had affairs with their female neighbors. Her Neighbor’s Wife offers an extraordinary new interpretation of how post-World War II American marriages could accommodate women’s relationships with other women.

An absolutely exhaustive catalog of queer milestones on television, I’m constantly consulting this amazing book.

There’s no more authoritative examination of the people, shows, and trends that shaped queer representation in broadcast media over the 20th century. Exhaustively researched, it’s not just a must-read – it’s a must-read-multiple-times.

I own two copies, each one jam-packed with bookmarks and notes to myself about the best bits.

This one had me laughing out loud just as much as swooning over the lovely story of Caroline and her transformation once her husband dumps her in the home where ‘difficult’ women are put when they cause too much trouble for those husbands. There are elements of steampunk, social commentary, twisted humor, and a cast of secondary characters that are as varied as they are interesting. The setting, while bleak to begin with, grows on you as you read, and once all the twists and turns finally click into place, it’s a romp of a ride to the end.

I liked the protagonist, Kate Delafield, immediately for her straightforward manner. Within very few pages, Katherine painted a picture of the neighborhood and the bar where a murder occurred in its back parking lot, yet she never caused the story to drag. Katherine pulled me in with her succinct description of the murder scene. It was as if I stood beside Kate Delafield.

As the detectives entered the bar, I felt lesbian history reverberating down through the years. As a lesbian, I identified with Kate Delafield and with the milieu within which she had to live and do her job as a police detective. I also understood the hostility of the bar patrons—all lesbians—toward the police. Without preaching, Katherine described the larger conflict inherent in the situation.

This book was so well-written that I “felt” the emotions of the characters; the sadness that a young life had been destroyed way… show more.

Venture capitalist Claire Pressley is done with the New York rat race and moves to small-town Oregon. She buys a rundown homestead with the dream of renovating and turning it into a women-only B&B. But hometown sweetheart, Ruby, has had her eye on the Pruitt homestead for years with the aim of turning it into an animal sanctuary. 

The book is billed as an enemies to lovers romance, and that’s spot on. Claire is icy, Ruby is adorable, but as Claire’s renovation proceeds at a cracking pace, the women talk and find common ground. The slow burn development is beautiful, and the sex scenes, when they occur are cracking hot. Kudos for the inclusion of a safe sex scene. 

Side characters add to the story, particularly Ruby’s grandfather. As if this wasn’t warm and fuzzy enough, the animals will melt your heart and make you smile—shout out to Ninja the… show more.