The most recommended books on polyamory

This collection of essays about bisexuality came out earlier this year, and I already feel like I need to read it again. The book encompasses both ends of a philosophical spectrum, from recognizable authors who go deep into subjects I thought I was already familiar with to newer voices who open up my mind with their engaging questions surrounding bisexuality, gender-fluidity, polyamory, and more.

Some of these writers challenged my thinking, which I found rare and rewarding in a lot of contemporary writing on bisexual identity and experience. I want to re-read this book so I can process the ideas and questions Vaneet Mehta and Lois Shearing have assembled here and see how I can pour some of this into my life and fiction.

By the time Dr. Anapol wrote this book, a mainstream publisher like Rowman and Littlefield was willing to publish on this controversial subject. The book explains why some people choose relationships where they and their partners have the freedom to have multiple sexual and/or love relationships, as well as providing a primer on how to conduct such relationships ethically and honestly. While Anapol’s first book provided guidance and tools for successful polyamorous relationships, this book benefits from being written 20 years later, when a lot more people were openly practicing polyamory. As a result, she was able to interview many people who had created happy and healthy open relationships and could offer their hard-earned lessons and advice. Many of her interview subjects tackle the tough subject of jealousy, which is the key obstacle for most people in making polyamory work. They offer some fresh perspectives and approaches to managing and… show more.

Don’t be fooled by the initial MF pairing of this book, A Lady of Rooksgrove Manor is very queer and very spicy.

Kathryn Moon does a fantastic job creating a realistic example of a polyamorous relationship in a genre where most authors tend to just like creating conflict. Each partner to the main character has unique, well-negotiated relationships not only with the main character but also with each other.

These relationships range from sexual to queer, platonic, and scratches the itch that every queer person has to build a commune out in the wilderness with all their closest friends that they may or may not make out with sometimes.

I contributed an essay to this collection and there’s quite a few writers I admire in this book, as well.

It’s refreshing to see other people’s perspective on what can feel like an albatross around your neck. Some of the essays are humorous, others are more poignant, but they all work together to show that a single life can look and feel a bazillion different ways—yours will be what you make it.

Transgender anarchist author Margaret Killjoy’s collection of short speculative fiction stories, We Won’t Be Here Tomorrow, is a stark contrast to the dazzling high-tech fantasies and cinematic adventures of my first three recommendations. Most of these stories are set in disturbingly plausible and not-at-all-distant futures, and veer into the territories of dark fantasy, gritty dystopianism, and atomspheric horror. No interplanetary space opera here; Killjoy’s protagonists are earthbound, anarchistic outcasts and misfits struggling to survive on the edges of society or in society’s ruins, in worlds gone unfathomably strange. And Killjoy writes it all beautifully, with a clarity of description that often left me stunned by its simple poetic power. This one’s for you if you like your speculative fiction close to the bone.

This dystopian novel has a unique premise – Berlin as a queer utopia, but this version of the city has an alternative history.

The story features fascinating characters such as Cissie, a straight married woman discovering the trans district, and William and Gareth, a young gay couple establishing their relationship.

At first, these individuals feel like archetypes, even though we fully connect with them emotionally. This is the beauty of the author’s structure. We understand what they represent in the context of this metropolis, until their voices are heard more and more.

And when the use of dialogue is expanded, what we understand of this Berlin, and the characters, changes.

For me, this was a true page turner.

Whenever I’m working with clients who are trying to figure out if polyamory is for them, I always recommend finding a way to connect to real-life polyamorous folks. It’s so important to hear genuine stories from a wide variety of perspectives—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Going to a local meetup group is the best way to do this, but reading this book comes in at a close second. Dr. Eli Sheff, a researcher who has conducted several longitudinal studies on polyamorous families, presents this compilation of personal stories from many different folks in non-monogamous families and networks. These stories span the range from hilarious to heartbreaking. 

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.

Some books affirm, and some books expand your thinking. This book belongs to the second category. Jenkins explores a new definition of love and tries to make that concept more inclusive than it currently is. This new definition of love is necessary, I believe, because as time changes, so does our experience of love.

At a moment when I was stuck in the long process of writing my book–newly divorced, overwhelmed by solo parenting young twins, and exhausted by pandemic shutdowns–this book reinvigorated me as a writer and mother. Phillips artfully demonstrates not only that motherhood and creative lives aren’t mutually exclusive, as the common trope would suggest, but that there are infinite paths to combining the two.