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It’s LGBT History Month and National Book Month. Here’s how to celebrate both.

Books help to chronicle the long, storied, beautiful and diverse LGBTQ community. | Ashley Dye
Authors James Baldwin (maroon), Kristen Arnett (pink), Rita Mae Brown (yellow), Tanya Boteju (green), Thomas Page McBee (turquoise), Alison Bechel (blue), Mariko Tamaki (lime green), Alexander Chee (red), Kate Bornstein (purple) and Eileen Myles (orange).
Authors James Baldwin (maroon), Kristen Arnett (pink), Rita Mae Brown (yellow), Tanya Boteju (green), Thomas Page McBee (turquoise), Alison Bechel (blue), Mariko Tamaki (lime green), Alexander Chee (red), Kate Bornstein (purple) and Eileen Myles (orange). [ Illustration by Lisa Merklin | tbt* ]
Published Oct. 17, 2019
Updated Oct. 17, 2019

When I first started coming out to myself as a child, my instincts took me to the public library.

After all, I reasoned with nervous fingertips hovering the keyboard, books had always made me feel more alive and connected to the world. Maybe, if I could just find one children’s book in which there was at least one character like me who wasn’t suffering, then I’d know my future could exist.

But as I hunched forward to cover the computer screen instead of consulting my favorite librarians, typing keywords that felt clinical and inappropriate into the catalog, what I found wasn’t encouraging. In small-town Indiana in the early 2000s, what little did appear was mostly in the adult nonfiction section ranging in tones from vaguely to deeply homophobic.

That first search was quick and surface-level. But I returned, again and again. And when historian David Carter’s Stonewall published in 2004, I finally came across a book about the pivotal riots and not another Andrew Jackson history.

In it was the detailed, irrefutable truth: I was nothing new or wrong but rather part of a long, storied, beautiful and diverse community, no matter how the nation tries to police it.

Through high school, I devoured any tangentially queer books available at my public and school libraries. They often skewed older, hidden in genres like psychology, philosophy and history. Some bookstores offered more digestible reading, but most young-adult fiction I could find certainly didn’t make main and well-developed characters gay or trans.

I used the self-checkout, or tucked the books between others and avoided eye contact with the librarian or cashier.

The discomfort that caused me to sneak around, though not without thrill, was of course internalized homophobia — there was, and is, nothing wrong with LGBTQ literature.

Luckily, in 2019, that search would go more smoothly. Depending on where they lived, today a child could ask their favorite librarian for recommendations without judgment, even find encouragement.

As this month is LGBT History Month and National Book Month, it’s the perfect time to lift up the many authors and LGBTQ-centric books available today.

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor
Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor [ Vintage ]

Recently, I realized the majority of what I’ve read in 2019 has about or by LGBTQ people. From George Chauncey’s classic (if often dry) Gay New York to Andrea Lawlor’s (beyond thrilling) Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl, what I’ve consumed has only enriched my life and infused more pride.

Fifty years after the Stonewall uprising, plenty of publishers have released retellings from a children’s picture book by Brandon author Rob Sanders to a broader history coffee-table book by Matthew Riemer and Leighton Brown. YA fiction is publishing more stories that go beyond coming-out narratives, or finally showing ones from cultures and perspectives often ignored.

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Many genres now explicitly name the identity or nature of characters instead of shrouding in plausible doubt or forcing a moral narrative that smites them, as publishers often demanded in the past. Perhaps now, they realize there is an audience.

For this week’s issue of tbt* Coast is Queer, I asked friend and colleague Claire McNeill, whose nose is almost always in a book, to review the posthumous memoir of her hero, Edie Windsor, and share favorites, as well.

The great difficulty was in narrowing down recommendations and reviews — there are simply too many titles to share. What a great problem to have.

Hopefully, this helps you take pride in reading, too.

A compilation of books about and by LGBTQ people.
A compilation of books about and by LGBTQ people. [ tbt* ]


A few of Claire McNeill’s favorite queer reads:

The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For, Alison Bechdel

What Belongs to You, Garth Greenwell

The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl, Andrea Lawlor

The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel
The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel [ Houghton Mifflin Harcourt ]

The Hours, Michael Cunningham

Edinburgh, Alexander Chee

When Watched, Leopoldine Core

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado

Inferno, Eileen Myles

Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls, T Kira Madden

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, Fannie Flagg

Mean, Myriam Gurba

The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Ashley Dye’s looking forward to reading ...

Feed, Tommy Pico

In the Dream House: A Memoir, Carmen Maria Machado

Bury the Lede, Gaby Dunn

Are You Listening?, Tillie Walden

Red, White & Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston
Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston [ St. Martin's Griffin ]

The Tradition, Jericho Brown

I Know You Know Who I Am, Peter Kispert

A Year Without a Name, Cyrus Grace Dunham

We Set the Dark on Fire, Tehlor Kay Mejia

Queer Intentions, Amelia Abraham

Welcome to Fairyland: Queer Miami Before 1940, Julio Capó Jr.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

Black Queer Hoe, Britteney Black Rose Kapri

Some of Ashley Dye’s picks:

Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation, Kate Bornstein and S. Bear Bergman

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir, Samra Habib

Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin (though I put more emphasis on his other works like The Fire Next Time)

We Are Everywhere, Matthew Riemer and Leighton Brown

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki
Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki [ First Second ]

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me, Mariko Tamaki and illustrator Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

Angels in America, Tony Kushner

Amateur, Thomas Page McBee

My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, Emil Ferris

The House of Impossible Beauties, Joseph Cassara

Tinderbox, Robert W. Fieseler

A sampling of YA:

Paper Girls series, Brian K. Vaughan and illustrator Cliff Chiang

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

Orpheus Girl, Brynne Rebele-Henry

Spinning, Tillie Walden

Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens, Tanya Boteju

Summer of Salt, Katrina Leno

We Are Okay, Nina LaCour

Queer Heroes, Arabelle Sicardi and illustrator Sarah Tanat-Jones

Lumberjanes series, Shannon Watters, Grace Ellis, Brooklyn A. Allen and Noelle Stevenson


Mostly Dead Things

Mostly Dead Things by Orlando's Kristen Arnett
Mostly Dead Things by Orlando's Kristen Arnett [ Tin House ]

The question of how a family with a taxidermy business collapsed and whether they can rebuild themselves is the subject of Orlando author Kristen Arnett’s debut novel, the weird, funny and, in its own macabre way, warm-hearted Mostly Dead Things. Sometimes, though, as a good taxidermist knows, breaking things down is the only way to put them back together. Sex makes us crazy and loss crushes our hearts and love, maybe, gives us a way to reshape ourselves. We’re all a lot the same, under the skin. — Colette Bancroft, tbt*

When Brooklyn Was Queer

One of the best things about Hugh Ryan’s history of LGBTQ Brooklyn is that he knows what he doesn’t know. So many histories overlook huge parts of gay life — women, people of color — but Ryan makes sure they’re part of his narrative. When the information isn’t available — which is often, with laws and social mores forcing gay communities to remain invisible — Ryan admits it. The author writes admiringly of a book about gay life that is “scholarly but readable,” and the same could be said for his book, which is at its best when he has the material to make people and scenes vivid. For instance, one house was practically the center of the gay world in 1940, when it was home to writers Carson McCullers and W.H. Auden, as well as performer Gypsy Rose Lee and composer Benjamin Britten, all of whom hosted dinner parties that included Aaron Copland, Leonard Bernstein and Paul Bowles. — Chris Hewitt, Minneapolis Star Tribune (TNS)

The Stars and the Blackness Between Them

The Stars and the Blackness Between Them by Junauda Petrus
The Stars and the Blackness Between Them by Junauda Petrus [ Penguin Random House ]

Junauda Petrus’s new YA novel is “a love letter to growing up in south Minneapolis,” as her artistic partner put it. It has a lot of love for Trinidad and New York City, too. It’s also a love letter to blackness and queerness, to nothing less than the earth and the cosmos. “I’m always writing to a space that I want to have exist,” Petrus, 38, says, “a space that I think would have been a deep solace for me as a young person.” Here, she conjures two 16-year-olds — Audre and Mabel, an Aquarius and a Scorpio, a Trinidadian and an African-American — coming of age in Minneapolis and in each other’s arms. — Jenna Ross, Minneapolis Star Tribune (TNS)


An excerpt of Ilana Masad’s review in the Washington Post: Nicole Dennis-Benn’s sophomore novel is a deeply queer, sensitive and vividly written novel about a woman’s right to want in the United States and a child’s right to carve her own path in Jamaica; it is also, as Patsy expresses late in the book, about this hard-won nugget of truth: “Never let anyone define you. Always know that you matter. Your thoughts, feelings, and your desires matter. Your happiness matters.” — Ilana Masad, Washington Post

RELATED: Gay rights icon Edie Windsor’s sheer force carries ‘A Wild and Precious Life’

How We Fight for Our Lives

Saeed Jones, a prizewinning poet and BuzzFeed staffer, reflects on his experiences as a gay black man from the South in this slim, poignant memoir. He grapples with coming out and coming of age against a backdrop of homophobia and racism. Angela Haupt, Washington Post


Frankissstein. A Love Story. by Jeanette Winterson
Frankissstein. A Love Story. by Jeanette Winterson [ Grove Atlantic ]

An excerpt of Ron Charles’ review in the Washington Post: In Frankissstein, British novelist Jeanette Winterson manages to pay homage to brilliant teenager Mary Shelley’s insight and passion while demonstrating her own extraordinary creativity. Winterson’s cleverest maneuver may be suggesting trans people are the pioneers of a self-determined future in which we’ll all design our own bodies. — Ron Charles, Washington Post

High School

An excerpt of Jancee Dunn’s review in the Washington Post: Musicians, twins and LGBTQ icons Tegan and Sara Quin’s coming-of-age memoir is a sort of anti-yearbook that shows how music can be salvation. High School also reminds us that a compassionate adult can have an outsize effect on a teen struggling with their sexuality. — Jancee Dunn, Washington Post