A departure from Tingle’s typical steamy sentient food stories, this first of two traditional LGBTQ+ themed releases is scary because it reflects a chilling reality. Told through the lens of a young queer woman, it answers the question: How far could hatred masked as religion go to keep queer youth in line? Expect plague-like flying insects, monsters, and one pretty cool scene involving a rock-n-roll flame-thrower. But in this cinematic exploration readers can also expect heartfelt emotion, love, and friendship. A crew of misfits brought together by a (terrible) common experience must travel back to the conversion camp that cursed them to rediscover their authentic selves, but do they have the tools they need to defeat their demons?
It begins as a sweet, playful romance. Rosemary and Ash have a thing going–whatever that may mean. As an assistant professor, Rosemary is good with words, while Ash is an artisan who makes everything by hand. Everything is syrupy sweet until it becomes acrid. As a horror novel, you know that something sinister lurks around the corner, bubbling right under the surface, but you’re not quite sure what it is that is itching at the back of your mind until it drenches you like a bucket of ice. This is perfect for those who are allured by the thrill and the sense of dread that slowly spreads through your veins until it consumes you.
Observations of queer desire are no longer left to metaphor and flowery language, but made tangible in the grasp of a thigh or bite of a fist. The picturesque femininity of Mrs. S, and her untouchability as the headmaster's wife, comes to a physical clash against the unnamed narrator, open with their butchness and desire to succumb to an illicit affair that is doomed from the very start.
If you make one great decision today, decide to acquaint yourself with the charming and relatable Yamilet Flores. Watching her grow into herself is alternately hilarious and heartbreaking, and this book's appeal is definitely not limited to young adult audiences. Plus the author coins a great phrase to use in response to white privilege: "The caucasity!" Happy reading!
What if The Great Tasby was set in a magical, alternate American Jazz age? Where magic reigns supreme in the upper echelons, deals are made with literal devils, and relationships are still dramatic. Told through the eyes of Jordan, Daisy's best friend, a Vietnamese adoptee who has a magic and a love story to find of her own.
J.P. Brammer writes from a very specific background as a gay Mexican-American man raised in rural Oklahoma, but these are identities you don't need to personally claim in order to both love and benefit from this book. His writing style makes you forget you are reading and instead feel as if you're having a conversation with someone who is deeply invested in helping you seize the best from life. And he's hilarious, so that's a plus.
A timeless piece of writing, with reflections on battling cancer, lesbian motherhood, Black American womanhood, community organizing, and love. An important voice to familiarize yourself with now, as Audre Lord's wisdom and vision carry lessons that could help us traverse our most persisting social issues if only we would listen.
Pizza Girl, a pregnant pizza-delivering eighteen year old, is nonchalantly trying to blow up her life despite the support from her golden retriever boyfriend and her Korean mother living the American Dream (through her). With the ghost of her alcoholic father haunting her off her own cliff, she grabs on to the last branch of safety: a crush on a middle-aged housewife. Ugly & uncomfortable, unwinding & gripping, set against the backdrop of the lazy, hazy suburbs of Los Angeles. Takeaways: tender but sharp writing for a debut and, screw pineapples on pizza, let's talk about pickles on pizza.
Hard to put down! Very readable like chips are very eatable; you can't have just one. It tickled my behind-the-scenes of the Bachelor itch and hit me in my PNW heart. Allen really brought out the stops for this horror comedy with just the right amount of camp and believability. Come on, this lady sasquatch just wants to cuddle.
Part queer love story, part subtle horror story, both parts eerie and beautiful. Wives Leah and Miri try to manage when Leah comes back from a failed deep-sea mission that left her stuck on a submarine for five months. Armfield seamlessly creates the sensation of being underwater, that kind of silence that is quiet and loud at the same time. A slow burn until the last 50 pages or so then the quiet gets unbearably loud. If you like swimming, Florence + the Machine, Kristen Arnett, or loving someone or something, read this.