Does listening to audiobooks count as reading? Here it does. Let’s discuss your favorite reads — or listens.
All tagged lgbt
“Somewhere Beyond the Sea” wants to be a beacon, but it ends up an echo of what made “The House in the Cerulean Sea” so beloved. It wants to offer the inclusive magic Rowling won’t, and for some readers, that alone may be enough. But intent doesn’t equal impact. The message may still shine through, but the journey is far less enchanting than before.
This novella has solidified my disinterest in Burroughs and, perhaps, in the Beat Generation as a whole. As for the film adaptation, I’ll take a pass – I’ve given this story enough of my time.
From the Obergefell ruling to the Pulse nightclub massacre, “Party” captures the emotional and political climate of a pivotal year for the LGBTQ+ community. The novel questions the expectations placed on modern gay men, contrasts different generational perspectives and resists a tidy resolution, embodying the complexity and contradictions of queer existence in a post-modern world.
Daniel Black’s “Isaac’s Song” is less a sequel to “Don’t Cry for Me” than a companion piece, giving Isaac’s long-awaited perspective on his relationship with his father, Jacob. While “Cry” was a reckoning told through a dying father’s letters, “Song” is a son’s introspective journey through memory, contradiction and generational trauma.
Though the prose remains lush, her reliance on symbolism and Shakespearean allusions requires a level of patience and literary devotion this novel didn’t earn. For those well-versed in “King Lear” and drawn to dense, slow-burn literary fiction, there may be more to appreciate.
Jonathan Evison’s “Lawn Boy” attempts to tackle social inequality with humor and heart, but its execution falters. While the book has been challenged for fleeting references to sex and gender identity, these objections feel exaggerated. The real discomfort lies in its critique of systemic barriers that make stability and success elusive for marginalized communities—a critique that some may find hard to swallow.
For readers interested in a nuanced look at coming out later in life, particularly in the mid-2000s – a time when acceptance was growing but still fraught with homophobia and fears of ostracism – “The Lie” offers an authentic, if imperfect, reflection.
Garth Greenwell’s “Small Rain” explores the isolation and unraveling of self that so many of us endured during the first COVID-19 summer. His unnamed protagonist experiences this in a way that’s magnified tenfold, as he is confined to a hospital room with a potentially fatal diagnosis: an aortic dissection. The fact he survived such low odds and remains coherent adds an underlying tension to every encounter. He is suspended in a liminal state, living on what feels like borrowed time.
At first glance, Rebecca McKanna’s “Don’t Forget the Girl” may seem like another mystery thriller critiquing true crime culture – and to an extent, it is – but it stands out with its sharp edges and an unexpectedly poignant queer love story. This adds depth, transforming what could have been a straightforward thriller into something more personal and thought-provoking.
Justin Torres’ “Blackouts” is a stylistic exercise that feels more concerned with its own cleverness than with engaging its readers. The novel's experimental structure, essentially a mixed media piece of art that blends past and present, is undeniably ambitious, but it frequently veers into pretentiousness masked as creativity.
While not aiming for highbrow literature, it offers a perfect mixture of astute social commentary, a dash of camp and a fair amount of meta grievances. We may not know the true identity of Chuck Tingle, but it’s fair to say that like R.F. Kuang and “Yellowface,” he has a proverbial axe to grind with the entertainment machine.
Bobby Finger did the near impossible. He somehow merged contemporary and historical fiction, paired it with a dash of literary depth, and wrapped it in a cozy sheen perfect for a lazy day on the beach. Yes, dear readers, he somehow made reading about sustained, collective trauma heart-warming. Color me surprised!
“No Road Home” is a good read, but it’s not groundbreaking. Fans of religious-themed horror and dastardly families (think “Ready or Not”) will appreciate this more than most. Readers picking this up hoping for a queer-focused story, like “The Bright Lands,” may be let down. Shortcomings aside, I’d still give Fram another shot.
Expectation: Alternating narratives of Elio and Oliver as they make the slow march back into each other’s lives.
Reality: Like four distinct mini-novellas, each offers a slice-of-life look into the motivations and relationships of the men from “Call Me By Your Name.” If you are patient enough for the journey, it pays off.
Expectation: A slow-burn coming-of-age story about forbidden love.
Reality: A beautiful, sensual and deep exploration of desire and connection. While closely aligned to the film adaptation, the source material is worth the read.
I had put off reading Saeed Jones' "How We Fight For Our Lives" for years, expecting a depressing, harrowing manifesto about the multitude of ways America fails Black men. Let this be a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, because Jones instead offers readers a sometimes funny and relatable exploration of growing up gay.
A choppy narrative and sparse illustrations made it difficult to truly connect with the emotional turmoil Crewes walks the reader through. Initially intended as a 10-page micro-comic, it certainly appears that was the right length for a story that felt incredibly thin.
Between the bloat, uneven pacing and self-absorption you’ll quickly find yourself tired of the lecture and wondering how a book that started promisingly can derail so quickly.
Hutchinson’s conversational writing style allows readers to connect with his experiences and fill in the blanks with their own. It's a reminder that sometimes you’re simply hiding scabs, but you’re never too old to heal the wound. While not necessarily targeted to young adults, the author – a prolific writer in that genre – uses short, fast-paced chapters that mirror the chaos of his internal life.
Expectation: A dark and twisted gay “Bonnie and Clyde.”
Reality: Despite its intriguing premise and well-written characters, "These Violent Delights" is a super slow-burning thriller with too many unresolved plot points that left me wanting more.
