The most recommended queer books

Another one of Ariana Nash’s books. This one about a dragon shifter and an elf.

The elves are at war with the dragons. Their kind do not mix, which is the major conflict in the story. The elf hates the dragon while the dragon continues to prove that he’s not evil. It’s heartbreaking at times and satisfying in others.

A slow burn with an eventual HEA which is satisfying. 

I love middle-grade novels and George is a classic. It reminds me of Beverly Cleary’s Ramona books, and I can think of no higher compliment! Alex Gino masterfully captures the perspective of a trans girl and her journey to expressing herself. This book isn’t shy about the difficulties that George faces, but its tone is gentle and hopeful. That’s the balance that I try to strike in my own writing. I can only hope I’m as successful as Gino. You’ll love this book.

I love books that take me to other worlds, and The Copper Egg does not disappoint. Peru! As the heroine searches for a lost treasure, the readers get to learn all about ancient Peru. It’s a great adventure and so well researched. It had me Googling the web to learn more. There is also a fun romance and a dastardly villain. Think Indiana Jones goes LGBTQ2+. What’s not to like? 

A tale of three American athletes and their coach, all gay, and told from the POV of the coach. Included because, to me, it is a piece of queer fiction history. It was published in the seventies pre the nationwide legalisation of gay sex in the United States. Gay friends have told me how important it was for them to read The Front Runner back then. It’s all about the validation that arises from seeing people like oneself in print, as aces know. There’s nothing on the page to worry aces. The only worrying thing is that sportspeople still have homophobia to contend with.

Allende loves her Chilean homeland with a longing, a tenderness, an exasperation derived from the country’s turbulent history and her long experience of exile and emigration in Venezuela and the United States.

This book made me fall in love all over again with the country, which I first visited a quarter century ago – and it will make you fall in love with it too, whether or not you’ve ever visited Chile.

With a novelist’s imaginative flare, Allende travels through time and across borders, searching her memory to tell the story of her lonely childhood, her remarkable family, the tumults that forced her abroad (including the death of her father’s cousin, President Salvador Allende), and a long life lived at a distance from the place she still calls home, regardless of decades of displacement.

One of my favorite memoirs due to the author’s unapologetic blatant honesty.

Through Pageboy, we learn about the mental and physical struggles Elliot endures, indications of being transgendered that manifested during childhood, familial psychological abuse, Hollywood stereotyping, and the love of his closest friends. This book took me beyond fandom. I now wish I was a contemporary of Page.

As a Queens kid, I would have enjoyed befriending him in Brooklyn. As someone who spent his summers on a northeast farm, and young-adult years in the wilds of Maine and beyond, providing comfort during his dark time in the Canadian wilderness would have been my pleasure.

Now, if I could say anything to Elliot, I would recognize his growing strength and say, “Please continue to share your talent.”

An M/M ("male and male") romance novella that upends traditional romance tropes. There are no aristocratic major characters, and no heroine. Instead two hero/es, Martin St. Vincent, a freed Caribbean ex-slave, and Theo Swann, a failed curate-to-be now running a "marriage mart" rag and as "Mrs. Swann," writing Gothic novels, play out the original Georgette Heyer trope of a Foolish Young Female character's thwarted elopement. Their literally bruising There and Back coach journey retrieves the female, but also develops their own attraction, and brings them through emotional or financial liberations to the threshold of a "new world." The diversity of race and sexuality is thoroughly modern, but content warning: as per usual for the sub-genre, there's plentiful sex.

This fantastic creative non fiction book tells the story of two unlikely friends – the dancer Loïe Fuller and the scientist Marie Curie. Through my research for Half Lives I have read a lot about both of these women – Marie Curie isolated the element and Loïe Fuller developed a fascination with it as she wanted to incorporate its glow in the dark properties into her stage costumes. Heinecke does an amazing job of bringing the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries alive with this book and shines a light on two fascinating women pioneers.

I am a devoted fan of Barbara Kingsolver, and The Lacuna is my favorite of all her works.

The book follows the fascinating, tragic life of one Harrison Shepherd, born in the U.S. but raised in a series of fantastical situations in Mexico made believable by Kingsolver’s unique skill. Shepherd’s brushes with fame and history reveal much about the character of Mexico and that of the United States.

He is brutally caught up in the nationalist, paranoid fears of both countries’ governments and the even wilder judgments of public opinion. A thrilling, artful read.

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.

You can’t help but root for thirteen-year-old social underdog and theater nerd Nate Foster as he sneaks away from his “boring” hometown of Jankburg, PA, and takes a bus to New York City to audition for the lead role in a Broadway production of E.T., the Musical. Of course, things don’t go according to plan, but Nate’s spunk, humor, and fearlessness somehow get him through his longshot adventure in the big city. Federle’s warm and vivid characterizations and witty writing style make this one a winner for the whole family. (One caveat: Parents bothered by gay themes in middle-grade books—even understated ones, as here—might want to skip this one. Your loss.) Followed by two more: Fix, Six, Seven, Nate! and Nate Expectations. 

Xandri Corelel, one of the few autistic people born in a eugenics-obsessed future, has spent her life learning to decode the ways neurotypicals communicate. Now she roams the galaxy using that skill as a professional interpreter of alien language. Xandri is hands down the most relatable protagonist I've ever encountered in fiction, and her adventures are exciting and uplifting.

A Veil of Gods and Kings is a retelling of the Greek myth about the Demi-god Apollo and his lover, prince Hyacinth.

They are polar opposites. One is a happy-go-lucky god who runs away from responsibility. The other is a prince with his entire kingdom on his shoulders. They are forced to spend time together and we watch how they slowly balance each other while falling in love.

This is the first book of a series and it has little action (there is more later), but it was a treat to observe how a loving relationship can not only make the lovers into better people but also extend this positivity to the community and make the kingdom a better place.

This book gets triple points in my opinion, as it specifically addresses adoption by two dads who are an interracial couple. There are very few children’s books that cover all of these topics and even fewer that do it as simplistic and easy as this one. We have this one in our personal library and it has been one of our go-to books for helping our own daughter who my husband and I adopted.  

The City of Lucille has gotten rid of all its monsters.

That’s what Jam, a teenage trans girl, believed until the demonic-looking Pet emerged from one of her mother’s paintings. But despite their monstrous appearance, Pet isn’t the monster, but came forth to hunt a monster already living among the people of Lucille undetected. 

Pet contains vivid imagery, powerful themes, and a sensitive and brave protagonist. Be bold. Be vigilant. Monsters never entirely go away because we are the monsters.

This final book in the Jas Anderson trilogy sees Jas investigating a murder and a case of police corruption, but there is so much more: sectarian rivalry, harsh city life, a grieving mother, a revengeful wife, suffering children, and my two favourite gay protagonists, Jas himself and the ever-unstable Stevie. There’s a lot of testosterone on show. Explicit sex abounds, but it is never included for effect. It’s born of need and, sometimes, love. It never repels me. The conversation is in Glasgow dialect. Please don’t let that deter you: this story is powerful. Last pages count, and Some Kind of Love has a perfect ending.

Andi Marquette offers a treat in this sexy holiday tale executive Robin Preston is visited by the Bureau of Holiday Affairs. After spending her life climbing the corporate ladder she chose to succeed no matter the cost. In this Dickens style holiday romp Robin is visited by three ghosts in hopes that she will see the error of her ways.

Conklin’s collection of short stories offers storylines that are utterly and marvelously original.

These queer characters are quirky, but not quirky for the sake of being quirky. They are so fully themselves, and their passions drive them through their relationships and actions so believably, that you don’t question the strangeness of the situations for a second.

Mainly I just love the big heart in Conklin’s stories. Their prose, the actual word choices, are a delight in the same way the characters are—they surprise you and yet are spot-on right.

There’s a freeway sign on the way to Palm Springs that directs you to “Other Desert Cities.” I love that sign because it so captures the desert, and so does Katherine V. Forrest in her 10th installment of a Kate Delafield mystery. Brought out of retirement by threats from an innocent woman she put in jail when she was a cop, Delafield must marshal her defenses and her feelings to return to the arid tranquility she thought she’d found.

You’ve got to love someone who calls out those who think American yoga is a skinny white woman’s practice.

Stanley is a funny, deeply honest, large-bodied, gay Black woman who knows yoga is great for everyone—in fact, her prior book is Every Body Yoga. I love the way she weaves yoga’s philosophy and practices into this short and readable memoir of her life.

And I especially adore how she grasps yoga’s real purpose, which isn’t to pretzel up in funny poses but to slow down and calm the mind. Or, as she puts it: “Honestly, you really only need to know one pose and it’s called sitting the fuck down.”

How can you not want to recommend this book to, well, everyone?