This book is sold as Bridget Jones meets Pride and Prejudice, and it does have nods to both of those, but it’s a delightful story all of its own. The story begins with Darcy and Elle having a disastrous first date. However, Elle is working with Darcy’s brother, so they can’t just pretend it never happened. After Darcy pretends to her brother that it went well in order to stop him setting her up again, she has to persuade Elle to fake-date. If you’ve read much romance you can probably predict most of the plot from there–shenanigans as they play up the romance in public and the inevitable development of real feelings.
Then they took the last step together, and when she kissed her, her mouth as warm as summer, the taste of her sweet and clear, she knew, at last, that she was home.
So fun fact, this is not a book about the word queer or queer community. It’s a graphic novel explanation of academic Queer Theory.
Which I didn’t know when I picked it up, so I wanted to make that super clear. I just think the cover is a bit misleading. It had me thinking this was more of a generalist work when really its highly academic. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t read it though! Its a good introduction to Queer Theory. I just didn’t know beforehand.
I think Queer Theory works about as well as a graphic novel as it works as anything else. Queer Theory is DENSE and difficult to understand (at least for me) and the graphic format allowed for some visual representation of complex ideas. But there were also a lot of talking heads. Quite literally. Most queer theorists are shown with their most famous words in word bubbles above their heads.
In my opinion, some of the best parts are when we see real queer people either illustrating or repudiating some of this theory, particularly the parts where cis gay men love to speak for all of us in deliberately confusing language (*coughcoughLeeEdelmancough*). Barker and Scheele don’t let them skate on this, providing differing viewpoints and outright critiques. I liked that.
I also loved the way bisexuals are wholly and completely integrated into this book in a way I’ve never seen from a Queer Theory text. Even when the examples are not strictly about bisexuality, we are still included. There is a example that has nothing to do with bisexuality persay, but showed a researcher talking to bi communities, reading bi books, going to bi conferences, and HELPING BI PEOPLE. Seriously this panel almost made me cry. We never get this kind of consideration. Usually the best I hope for in general queer/LGBTQ nonfiction is to not have any blatant biphobia. I never hope for holistic inclusion. Meg-John Barker is bisexual and perhaps that is why this book lacks the usual unchallenged monosexism.
So if you’re looking for an introduction to Queer Theory that is bi-friendly, visually inclined, and about as accessible as this subject is ever going to get, I say pick this one up.
I am most gratified by this interest, which you share with @the-moon-loves-the-sea and two anonymous inquirers. So, lesbian* nuns in the Middle Ages, as per this post. First, the asterisk: most of the time, throughout history, we don’t know about people’s sexual activities, and this goes at least double for those who have taken vows of No Sex, Ever. But still, there’s plenty of grounds to discuss the queer loves of women who were free to explore their own interior lives (and to do gardening) in all-female communities.
Peter Damian, 11th-century abbot of Cluny, tells the most explicitly-lesbian nun story I know. The ostensible purpose of the anecdote was to reinforce the importance of confession. A young woman living in a nunnery received a vision of her godmother, who had recently died. The older woman told her goddaughter about “a sin which she had forgotten until the virgin Mother of God intervened on her behalf.” This was “succumbing to wanton lust with girls [her] own age.” She’d been spared the punishment for unconfessed sin (another prominent theme of edifying medieval anecdotes: the Blessed Virgin Mary has your back, always.) But she thought she’d come back and give the handy reminder. Notably, while “succumbing to wanton lust” is always a bad thing in monastic writings (obviously), the lesbianism of it all is not treated as shocking or especially sinful. (Story translated here.)
Then there’s the erotic poetry: “It is you alone I have chosen for my heart… / I love you above all else, / You alone are my love and desire …When I recall the kisses you gave me, / And how with tender words you caressed my little breasts, / I want to die / Because I cannot see you.” (Found here.)
So yeah, we have sexually explicit stuff. Moving beyond that, there are the gorgeous and heart-rending letters of Hildegard to Richildis (excerpts here.) As alluded to in that linked article, religious women’s imaginations of the infinitely desirable often looked… suspiciously like vulvas. See e.g. Rosalynn Voaden, “All Girls Together: Community, Gender and Vision at Helfta.” The work of Ulrike Wiethaus and others has explored the queerness of embodied mysticism for beguines (not nuns, strictly speaking, but also in women’s communities) and other religious women. Mechthild of Magdeburg’s writing, where gender is fluid and spiritual encounters are erotic, is a great example of this. In conclusion: lesbian nuns, probably not that unusual, and living their best lives, mostly gardening and illuminating manuscripts.
Oh yes - for adult spies you need This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, and for an assassin, try The Impossible Contract by K.A. Doore. (It’s the second in a series but was actually written first, so you don’t need to read them in order.) I would also say there are no damsels in distress in The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood, and while it’s not a Romance, I would definitely read Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir if you haven’t yet. In YA, check out Queen of Coin and Whispers by Helen Corcoran, which is a a romance between a queen and her spymaster, and similarly to Gideon, I would read Beyond the Ruby Veil by Mara Fitzgerald, though I suspect that actually will resolve in romance by the end of the series. (ETA: I meant to mention The Afterward by EK Johnston, too, which pairs up a knight and a thief.)
If you’re also open to nblw, I would definitely recommend Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller for an Assassin MC.
When I say that I read mostly bi and lesbian literature, people often assume that means F/F romance. Although I like the occasional romance novel, the truth is that it makes up very little of my reading life. There are sapphic books in every genre: science fiction, fantasy, mystery, nonfiction, etc. One of the genres I gravitate towards is bi and lesbian literary fiction—which is a tricky thing…
Haunted mansions! Thunder and lightning! Brooding antiheroes! Women running down corridors wearing long white gowns! I love the tropes of Gothic literature: they’re campy, they’re spooky, they’re sexy. What more could you possibly want from a genre? Well, sapphic romance, obviously.
As it happens, the Gothic is a pretty gay genre to begin with. Its themes of buried secrets, psychological crisis, and the instability of social boundaries all lend themselves perfectly to queer narratives. Despite this, I’ve always found it difficult to find recommendations for specifically lesbian and bi women’s Gothic literature online. But, dear reader, you don’t need to share my plight: I’ve done the work for you! Here is a selection of ten great Gothic works with sapphic characters to get you started with the genre…
