Before we start, all our book reviews contain MASSIVE SPOILERS and this one will be no different. Which means if you want to read this book spoiler free when it is released in May, turn back now!
Also, I have a LOT of thoughts on this book and how it plays into cultural narratives around non-monosexuality, so buckle up cuz this is gonna be a long one.
Everybody ready? Got a snack? Lets do this thing.
The most important thing you need to know about Ramona Blue is that its not a story about a lesbian who is “cured” by straight boy dick. Not even a little bit.
Ramona flat-out says she is not straight and shuts characters down HARD when they make that assumption. There is no way you can read this book and walk away with the conclusion that it plays into a homophobic trope of men “turning” lesbians unless you are just willfully ignoring both subtext and very explicit text.
The connection between Ramona and Freddie (the straight guy) centers a lot of the emotional action, but it unfolds slowly and with a lot of deliberate choices. It’s also an interracial relationship in which he teaches her about blackness as much as she teaches him about queerness. The whole thing has a super social justice vibe about it. The characters make mistakes and missteps, but they (and the reader) are allowed to learn from them. The book is also grounded in the strong relationship between Ramona and her sister Hattie, creating something that is more akin to a classic coming of age story than a romance novel.
Now let’s go deeper.
Bisexual feminist author Shiri Eisner writes a lot about how bisexuals operate in the gray area, the mushy middle, the space between homo/hetero. We are inherently boundary busters and shit destabilizers. I couldn’t help but think of her work while I was reading this book because at its core, Ramona Blue’s overarching theme is about finding oneself when your shit destabilizes and all that is left is the gray area.
That’s it. That’s the theme. This entire book is about boundary busting and category destabilizing.
Ramona starts the book with a strong identity, not just as a lesbian but believing she knows exactly what the rest of her life will be. By the end, she has moved into questioning not only her orientation but everything she had planned for life after high school. For example, she starts the book absolutely positive that she is not going to college, not leaving her small town, and not leaving the trailer where she shares a bedroom with her flighty, pregnant, older sister. She believes fanatically that she needs to stay put, and provide for the new baby emotionally and financially. She ends the book starting a pre-college program in another town after their trailer was destroyed in a tornado.
The subtext here is about as subtle as a brick to the face.
As far as her sexual identity, the book ends with her still unsure which label is right. Her sexuality is woven into that larger theme via character development that is deliberate and thoughtful. This book takes place over the course of a school year, giving Ramona plenty of time to examine herself and her options. And importantly, she ends the book liking herself despite her uncertain future on several fronts.
Don’t get me wrong – I would have loved it if Ramona came out as bi in the end. Because I see Ramona as clearly bi (or some other flavor of non-monosexual). I come to this conclusion not just because she dates/has sex with a dude, but because there are a few little moments where she appreciates boys in a way that her lesbian friend clearly does not. She shares a profound emotional intimacy with Freddie in addition to overtly wanting him sexually. And her responses to the pressure to ‘pick the gay side’ are familiar to anyone who has come out as bi. But in the end, she doesn’t choose that word.
However I want to make clear that Ramona Blue doesn’t fall into the trope of the missing B word. She doesn’t react poorly to being asked if she is bi, she doesn’t insist that she just looooves people, doesn’t spit biphobia, put up with biphobic jokes, or wax about how she just doesn’t like labels. Murphy doesn’t treat it as an unspeakable thing. Ramona is considering if she is bi, but she just doesn’t know.
And that is okay. It is okay to be questioning. It’s ok to write books about teens who are questioning where they end the story still questioning.
The problem I often have with bi representation is that questioning stories go to ridiculous lengths to avoid the word ‘bisexual’, or handle bisexuality in biphobic ways. Ramona Blue does none of this.
As much as I want more explicitly bi literature, there is also a lot of value in this kind of questioning story because it is so rarely explored in ways that are this deliberate and well written.
I appreciate Ramona Blue opening up a place in YA lit for a questioning story that is thematically sound and handled with such delicacy.
In queer culture, questioning is often portrayed exclusively as the stop between straightsville and gay town, but the reality is so much more complicated than that. For so many bisexuals, questioning comes around again after first identifying as gay or lesbian. For so many bisexuals, we continue questioning even when we pick a bi label.
For so many bisexuals, questioning is always asking if they are ‘bi enough’. The bi experience of questioning is different than the gay/lesbian experience with questioning.
This book is touching on some of that difference and that complexity. It is destabilizing the neat tidy categories of gay and straight. I can understand that for monosexual people that can be scary and cause them to react in knee-jerk defensive ways to protect their own privilege. It can be offputting to read a book that centers questioning through a nonmonosexual queer lens instead of a ‘traditional’ gay/lesbian one.
I believe that is what is behind the rush of lesbians (who haven’t read the book) and would much rather deny the complexities of non-monosexual experience and instead label this book as ‘lesbophobic’. This book is only lesbophobic if you believe anyone who identifies as a lesbian should be forced to only/always be a lesbian because there is no room for questioning once that label has been applied.
Reading Ramona Blue made me remember Adam Silvera speaking at the Andersons YA Lit Con in 2016 about how he is so often assumed to be a gay author because he writes so many gay characters, but he too is questioning. He’s not sure if he is bi, but he’s become less comfortable over time with saying that he’s gay when he himself doesn’t know. That is exactly the feel Ramona Blue is going for.
So to sum up, Ramona Blue is not lesbophobic unless you’re a giant biphobe, has great depth and themes, and it fills a much-needed gap in the YA queer lit canon. The end result is a smart and enjoyable read.
- Sarah
PS: Because the last time I talked about this book we got a rash of threatening, cruel, biphobic, and generally fucked up asks, they’re temporarily turned off. If you have a response to this review, reblog it and own it publically. Because I’ve removed your option to lowkey tell me I deserve to be coercively raped fuckface
alikurai said:
I’m bi and I feel cheated by this. Extremely. How is falling in love with a man in any way revolutionary? I don’t understand what kind of evil lesbian warlord world these bi women live in, to say that this narrative is much needed. I am constantly harassed to like men, by family and society, so what’s so special about this book?