The best books on polyamory

An immensely sweet novel with a focus on Japanese homophobia, Twinkle Twinkle follows the gay male Mutsuki and straight woman Shoko as they enter into a sham marriage. Though it shares some themes with An Excess Male, the novel isn’t speculative, instead providing insights into contemporary Japanese society and social customs — particularly the stifling sense of conformity. Yet despite cultural pressures, the fascinating three-way dynamic between Mutsuki, Shoko, and Mutsuki’s boyfriend carries the tale and will leave a lasting impression.

I might be obsessed with science and speculative fiction, but I rarely venture over to the fantasy section of the bookstore. I don’t know, maybe there’s just too much gender-stereotyping and absolute monarchy for my taste — so I’ll be ever-grateful for being gifted a copy of Tales of Nevèrӱon. Exploring polyamory without resorting to vampires, Samuel R. Delany’s novel looks at queer relationships in a manner much like Woman on the Edge of Time and was published later that same decade. It’s fantasy unlike anything else I’ve read.

This novel is the start of a mesmerizing series about being in love with two of your very dear childhood friends, or possibly five of your childhood friends, and feeling inexplicably compelled to return to the eerie ancient manor home where the six of you first spent the summer together. Rare books, dreams, pagan rituals, and a whole lot of sex—what’s not to love? This book really captures the dark, wintery, haunted, strangely out-of-time atmosphere of the house, and it’s extremely (t)horny, putting all of Sierra Simone’s incredible skill on display. This is the kind of complex, emotional writing I aspire to.

This beautiful and immersive novella is a winter-solstice-themed story about a woman and a genderqueer character who have nothing in common except for their mysterious, chaotic, magical, missing boyfriend. His magical experiment goes wrong and finding him requires them to cooperate. They make their way through a strange and wonderful set of clues that bring them closer together. Layla and Nat were both so richly drawn, and the contrast between their ordinary lives and the eerie, ineffable nature of the magic made the book so memorable for me. The whole cast is marvelously queer, and I laughed out loud a couple of times. A gem.

This story about a broke, aimless young man who inherits a haunted house in Louisiana from his great-aunt and falls in love with the house’s ghost instantly captivated me. Noel, the young man, is a witty point-of-view character, and Ruby, the indomitable ghost, is sexy and endearing and has every reason to be enraged. The house and its history—a plantation house where Ruby’s formerly enslaved grandfather carved all the beautiful woodwork and was never credited for his artistic labor—are characters in their own right, and I was thrilled when Noel and Ruby’s happily ever after included an occasional threesome from local historian Nina. The writing is wonderful and makes every character come alive—especially the ghost.

This is hands down one of my favorite science fiction books ever, and it is very atypical for science fiction. No big space battles, no hungry aliens. Just three people trying to figure out their lives and how they work together, all while humanity prepares to launch our first expeditions beyond the solar system. Of Kindred and Stardust features a diverse cast (in terms of ethnicity and gender), a polyamorous romance, and a polytheistic protagonist who keeps an altar for the Goddess and ancestors in his room and who looks forward to attending his family’s solstice celebration. This is what the future might actually look like, with polytheism (and polyamory) fully accepted into society.

I have found this book to be essential reading for my own life as well as in providing culturally-competent and effective counseling for clients in my private practice. 

Rowman and Littlefield has been a pioneer in publishing books with accurate and up-to-date information about consensual non-monogamy, LGBTQ issues, and kink and BDSM relationships. This is especially important as they make these books available to universities and other institutions that are training therapists and psychologists so that these clinicians will be qualified to work with these specialized populations that are so often misunderstood and cannot find appropriate mental health services. In addition, these books are written so that the layperson can understand and benefit from them. As a result, individuals who are seeking guidance and information about alternative sexualities and non-traditional relationships can easily utilize these books in their own lives.

Dr. Deborah Anapol wrote what is recognized as the first… show more.

Decidedly contemporary China’s most provocative foreign writer, Isham Cook has spent the past decade in Beijing penning books about taboo subject matter that heretofore few expat authors have been willing to publicly reveal about their lives here. Specifically, prurience and libertine excess. I liken him as a reincarnated Edmund Backhouse with a hint of Henry Miller and a dash of de Sade. In his putative memoir The Mustachioed Woman of Shanghai, Cook reimagines himself as an Asian woman in order to psychoanalyze his past relationships with Chinese girlfriends whom he tormented with polyamory. If nothing else, read this for its sheer audacity.

There is never enough alternate history. Particularly alternate history that doesn’t focus either on the Nazis winning World War II or the South winning the American Civil War. Thankfully we have Egalia’s Daughters, yet another forward-thinking novel from the seventies. Set in a world where gender norms are swapped around entirely, its male characters wear special testicle bras and adorn their beards with flowers (I do like that last part). Of course, this woman-dominated world is no less homophobic than our own, and as part of their gender rebellion, the men form relationships with one another, in various configurations. It’s a delightful read, with its gender reversals a mirror reflection of our own society.

An uproarious tell-all about blooming late, taking chances, and being vulnerable. In an effort to cope with the loss of a defining career and face down a lifetime of insecurities about her body, the author decides to tackle anything (self-exploratory-wise) that would normally send her screaming for the hills. Reluctantly but determinately, she takes the plunge into internet dating, professional cuddling, sensory deprivation, polyamory, Brazilian waxing, and more—all the while getting throat-punched by anxiety. Self-deprecating and ribald, Hameister’s anecdotes illustrate that sometimes pulling up one’s big girl panties can actually mean taking them off.