This is an autobiographical piece written like poetry, which Vuong frames as a letter to his illiterate mother. The writing is gorgeous and heartbreaking; Vuong’s mother is shown lashing out at her young son in one moment, and then her own generational trauma as a war refugee is explored in the next. It’s not an excuse, but an exploration of root causes. Nothing needs to be explained if it’s all out there for you to see. Vuong peppers his experiences with those of his mother’s and grandmother’s, letting us see the impact of racism, class tension, and trauma across generations. He approaches his own experience with love similarly, letting us see his boyfriend in moments of both sweetness and toxic masculinity, showing us just enough of his background to help us recognize him as a product of his surroundings. Vuong has a beautiful deftness with words, and uses them to show how the people in his story manage to communicate love without using words at all.
Tag: genre-lgbt
In Other Lands, by Sarah Rees Brennan
Excellent book, I want to push it at all misfit teenagers (and the adults they grow up to be). It’s a self-aware portal fantasy, done super well. 13 year old Elliot, upon discovering that he can enter a magical world, immediately tries to improve it: he smuggles in ballpoint pens to use instead of quills, calls out cross-species racism, and promotes diplomacy over war. His changing relationships with his warrior peers, elf Serene and awkward scion Luke, work as a beautiful heart to the story. (Fans of the relationship dynamic in Naomi Novik’s Scholomance series will enjoy this one too.) I couldn’t wait to finish this book and also never wanted it to end.
Paul takes the form of a mortal girl, by Andrea Lawlor
Paul Polydoris is a queer teenage bartender in a college town in 1993; he can change the shape of his body at will and frequently does, assuming whatever shape and gender that will get him laid (which is depicted quite graphically). After romping his way through various parts of the queer scene, Paul takes on the form of “Polly” and accompanies his friend to a lesbian retreat, where he falls in love with a girl named Diane and eventually follows her to San Francisco. Paul is filled with an intense longing to belong to someone and to give them his whole heart; at the same time; he chafes at being restricted to just one form and one role, restlessly changeable both outside and in. With such a mutable character it’s hard to have any kind of growth arc, and indeed, the lack of any kind of arc was one of the worst things about this story. Without any particular self-reflection on Paul’s part, his endless sexual escapades began to feel like just another part of the character he was performing, each encounter yet another experience he wasn’t learning from. I can’t tell if this book is a love letter to the queer scene of the early 90s, or a condemnation of the fact that the scene seemed to force people into rigid gender roles. Maybe, like the protagonist, the author also wants to have it both ways.
Witch King, by Martha Wells
The best thing about Martha Wells’ narrators is that their general exasperation with everything makes them immediately relatable, no matter how weird their selves and circumstances… which is good, because the reader is otherwise thrown straight into a complicated sociopolitical fantasy structure and magic system with absolutely no explanations. This book’s viewpoint character, Kai, is a demon who possesses the bodies of dying humans, and whose closest friends are powerful witches and warriors — useful because they seem to have some very terrifying enemies as well. Through adventure and flashback, Wells builds a portrait of how Kai and his friends were brought together, and how they became instrumental in the formation of the empire’s current political balance. Most of the plot threads are tied together neatly at the end, but it also feels like Wells might be doing some worldbuilding in preparation for future adventures.
The Devourers, by Indra Das
South Asian speculative fiction, though it also touches on Nordic and other shapeshifter myths. Narrator Alok Mukherjee is a history professor who meets a mysterious figure who claims to be a half-werewolf; fascinated, Alok agrees to record the stranger’s stories, some oral and some written on human skin. As the stranger’s tale unfolds and Alok is drawn further into the fantastically violent and turbulent history, the relationship between the two of them deepens as well. I liked how the story wove together the mythologies of different cultures, and I also enjoyed how Das took time to develop Alok’s character instead of having him be a passive listener to a story far more interesting than his own life.
Trailer Park Trickster, by David R. Slayton
Book #2 featuring Adam Binder, the queer warlock from a trailer park who just can’t stop saving people (even those who might not deserve saving). This one has him returning to his roots and investigating the increasingly creepy foundations of his family life; meanwhile, his love interest Vicente finds himself navigating dangerous elven politics. I liked the book in general but didn’t like the ongoing trope of “lovers are too busy with mortal peril to discuss their relationship, therefore the angst will continue” which looks like it’ll continue into the third book. Sit down and talk to one another, gentlemen, it’s healthier in the long run.
The Scapegracers, by H.A. Clarke
The narrator of The Scapegracers, a teenage lesbian witch named Sideways Pike, has never been cool; however, when a trinity of confident, popular girls hires her to perform a showy spell for their Halloween party, she finds in them both a coven for her magic and an unexpected gift of friendship. The other girls are the opposite of insecure: they are brimming with righteousness and rage, ready to rain down curses on anyone who mistreats them or makes them feel lesser (mostly self-centered teenage boys). There are some threats from scary witchfinders and some weird gatekeeping from the occult establishment going on in the background, but mostly this book is a ferocious celebration of loyalty and magic. I love the defiant rejection of the “mean girls clique” trope, and also the diverse cast. First in a series.
The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School, by Sonora Reyes
I loved this book so much. Yamilet Flores follows her brother Cesar to a very rich, very white Catholic school, where she already stands out for being Mexican-American and would rather not also stand out for being queer. (Also her mom would likely kick her out if she knew.) It gets very hard to keep pretending to be straight, however, when her new friend Bo is the prettiest, smartest, friendliest, and bravest girl she’s ever met. Yami deals with very typical teen drama, from mean girls at school to problems caused by race, class, and sexuality, along with complicated family dynamics and the burden of juggling secrets. I loved how the adults in the book were each doing what they thought best for the kids, and how the kids find their way through to their own truths by the end. Great cast of well-formed characters; great commentary on existing social structures.
A Day of Fallen Night, by Samantha Shannon
Prequel to the Priory of the Orange Tree, this book sets up a lot of the world and structures that we see later on. (It’s been a few years since I read Priory, so I only recognized a few elements, but enough to keep me reading.) The main characters are Sabran and her daughter Glorian, bound to carry the legacy of their ancestor and protect their kingdom; Dumai, secret heir to magic and empire; and Tunuva, warrior sworn to a greater cause. Each of the women finds herself fighting a separate part of the battle against a world-ending threat. Although there’s a lot going on with dragons, plague, and political tensions, Shannon still finds a way to develop each woman’s story. Things I loved: Sabran and Glorian’s complicated dedication to their birthright, and Tunuva’s characterization as a capable warrior and a sexual being even as an older woman. The entire book verged on being almost too long and complicated, but then I remember Priory being the same way.
Heartstopper, by Alice Osman
Simple, sweet boy’s school romance. Charlie Spring was outed last year and is now openly gay, despite occasional bullying and shunning; his new seat partner Nick Nelson is a pure-hearted, friendly rugby player who wouldn’t understand subtext even if it was patiently pointed out to him. Meet-cute scenes ensue. Nothing complicated about this graphic novel, which is adorable from start to finish; the characters are weirdly (but refreshingly!) open and communicative with one another, which tends to stave off angst and drama.