Link Round Up: May 25 – 31

Posted on May 31, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Realistically, there just aren’t enough LGBTQ+ YA books being published for any of these numbers to be more than vaguely suggestive of questions or trends. How meaningful is it to say more books about bi characters in speculative contexts are being published when only a handful of books about bi characters are released every year? Or that there are “too many” coming out stories when major publishers released only 24 LGBTQ+ YA books total in 2014?

We desperately need more stories.

– LGBTQ YA by the Numbers: Gender and Genre at GayYA

Lots to think about in these numbers, regardless. I’m not surprised that most lesbian books are written by women: there seems to be a perception that gay men’s stories have appeal for all kinds of people, but that lesbian stories are only for lesbians. To be honest, though I would like more readers of lbqq books from all identities, I’m not eager to up the amount of male writers of lesbian experiences, considering how often media portrayals of queer women by straight men veer into male gaze territory. Also, I feel like we’re still recovering from the lesbian pulp fiction legacy of straight men writing lesbian characters.

As for bisexual characters being more common in speculative fiction, I would hazard a guess that this is partly because a lot of speculative fiction worlds are bi-by-default. There is definitely a place for those stories, but I think both ignoring bisexuality in realistic fiction and giving everyone the same sexuality in speculative fiction are both limited views of the world.

Autostraddle posted:

Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian posted Ask Your Friendly Neighbourhood Lesbrarian # 6: Books about Queerness and Disability.

“Emerging queer female authors you need to know about…” was posted at PONY.

Irrepressible: The Jazz Age Life of Henrietta Bingham by Emily Bingham was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

For Your Own Good by Leah Horlick was reviewed by Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian.

Wyrwood (The Way of Thorn & Thunder Book 2) by Daniel Heath Justice was reviewed by Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian.

Adult Onset by Ann-Marie MacDonald was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

This post, and all posts at the Lesbrary, have the covers linked to their Amazon pages. If you click through and buy something, I might get a small referral fee. For even more links, check out the Lesbrary’s twitter! We’re also on Facebook, Goodreads, Youtube and Tumblr.

Al Rosenberg reviews Shoulders by Georgia Cotrell

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Shoulders seems like a fictionalized memoir, but reads like a conversation with an old friend. Georgia Cotrell tells the tale of Bobbie Craword, innocent, personable lesbian, and her coming-of-age in the 1970’s. And then it tells of the fallout of all of her decisions in the 1980’s. At moments both heart-warming and anxiety-inducing, Shoulders is one of the most realistic portayals of developing sexuality I have come across.

This novel was published by Firebrand Books, an amazing short-lived lesbian and feminist book press in Ithaca, NY, in 1987 and only received a first printing, which is a shame. Cotrell herself is described on Goodreads as “a software developer and author from Austin, Texas. Her novel Shoulders was published in 1987.” That’s it, just the one book in one printing, which fits my theory that this book is more memoir than fiction.

What I find most refreshing about Shoulders is that it isn’t about the anxiety of figuring out that you’re gay. There’s no angsty self-doubt about being a lesbian, just acceptance that ladies are the prefered romantic interests.

Cotrell reveals Bobbie to us in short chapters, flashes in time. We are taken from her childhood to her teenage years to college in the first few pages. The innocence of childhood sexuality continues throughout her life in the form of romantic innocence. Most of the time Bobbie just doesn’t seem to know what she is doing. She lets her circumstances carry her in confusing and opposite directions throughout her life. I found myself forgiving her for quite a few betrayals and questionable decisions. Perhaps because I could see myself making the same “mistakes,” perhaps because I had grown to love her so dearly.

She meets, loves, befriends such a multitude of women. There are so, so many distinct female characters in this book. That by itself was fascinating and healing and wonderful. Early on in her life she meets Rachel, her dance instructor, who helps her learn about herself. In college she meets the kinds of energetic, life-changing women intellectual environments can offer you. And later in life she find Miriam, who changed my life just by imagining that someone like that might actually exist.

Like a conversation with a close, old friend, Cotrell frankly discusses heartbreak, sex, dildos, jobs that destroy you and work that lifts you up. But mostly she writes about women, in all ages, shapes and sizes. The end of Shoulders had me wishing Cotrell had continued to write, that Firebrand Books had continued to publish. Instead I’ll just reread Bobbie’s life one more time.

Al Rosenberg: Al is Games Section Editor of WomenWriteAboutComics.com. She loves lesbians, lesbians in literature, and the perfect mystery novel. Currently in Chicago working on her tattoo collection.

Rachel reviews Tell Me Again How A Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan

Posted on May 25, 2015 by Danika Ellis

For fans of lesbian chick-lit, Tell Me Again How A Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan is a funny, entertaining read, and delves into what it is like to be a lesbian of color.

Leila Azadi, a high school junior at Armstead Academy, is Iranian-American; the only one in her school, in fact. Most of her classmates are white, so Leila already feels out of place. She also knows she is gay, and is terrified to come out to her school and her conservative parents. So Leila decides to keep her sexuality a secret. All that changes when Armstead gets a new student; an attractive and enigmatic girl named Saskia. Leila begins to develop romantic feelings for her, and is thrilled when Saskia seems to like her back. She also gets to learn more about her classmates, who are not at all what they appear to be. As Leila grapples with coming out, she needs to learn who to trust…and who to avoid.

Tell Me Again is an easy read, as well as relevant to lesbians today. Throughout the book, Leila’s mixed feelings about being gay come to the surface. The story opens with her class reading The Color Purple, and how scared Leila is to say anything about the main character’s sexuality, for fear of drawing attention to herself. From that moment on, I found myself drawn in. The storyline of Leila coming to terms with her sexuality was gripping as I wondered what would happen next. There were plenty of subplots in the story; such as Leila’s sister Nahal going to medical school, her aloof friend Lisa Katz dealing with her brother’s death, and Leila working on the school’s upcoming play of Twelfth Night. All were nicely written by Sara Farizan.

The best parts about this book were the characters and the numerous surprises that came up. No spoilers here, but I really liked how the plot lines wrapped up. There were some moments where I laughed at a surprise, or when I got livid with a character. Nobody in Tell Me Again was clear-cut. They all had their secrets, motives, and hidden personalities. It was good to see such multi-layered characters, and that really made this book leave a deeper impression on me.

Tell Me Again How A Crush Should Feel is not a book readers should easily forget. The humor, combined with family, crushes, and coming out, makes Leila’s story fun and relatable. Sara Farizan put a new and interesting spin on teenage sexuality, and the result was a splendid read.

Link Round Up: May 18 – 24

Posted on May 24, 2015 by Danika Ellis

“I would love to see the normalization of LGBTQ identities and authors within publishing, so that these creators and their creations are not limited to a specific subset of a genre. I’d like to see tokenization die a sudden and quick death. Those of use who are LGBTQ should not have representation touted to us when it feels more like someone’s collecting Pokémon. I’d love for publishing to value the work of those who are LGBTQ over voices who often get the spotlight because they’re part of the dominant group.” —Mark Oshiro, blogger at MarkReads.net and MarkWatches.net, @MarkDoesStuff

– LGBTQ Publishing: An LGBTQ Publishing Wish List at Publisher’s Weekly

There are a lot of really interesting perspectives in this article, and I’m honored that PW reached out to me to participate. One odd thing I noted, though, is that two different people mentioned wanting specifically more trans boy/men stories, including: “Even as media representation of transgender women rises, there are vanishingly few narratives written by transgender men. We need to hear their stories.”

I agree that we need to hear more trans voices, but the idea that trans men’s stories should be prioritized at this point over trans women’s stories is not something I can stand behind. Trans women are at a huge risk for violence and face enormous amounts of discrimination, and besides, the mainstream media coverage of trans women tends to be horrific (transmisogynistic jokes on TV shows and movies are incredibly common) in a way that’s not equally true of trans men. We need more representations of all kind of trans stories and experiences, but we shouldn’t consider representation of trans women being in competition with trans men. There’s no reason we can’t support representation of trans people of all genders.

As we come off the tail end of our Fifty Shades of Grey hysteria, Lost Boi is the perfect antidote, putting literary BDSM back into the realm of quality. The book’s smuttier elements are all bound up in Lowrey’s signature magic, where bondage is akin to flying and kinky sex is a glorious, courageous fight. In true fairy-tale form, Lost Boi also teaches its (adult) readers a multitude of important life lessons; that we should be free to define our relationships the way we choose, that it is possible to respect and even love our enemies, and that the freedom and hope of youth don’t need to be lost as we creep into adulthood.

To say that Lost Boi is loads of fun is not meant to in any way take away from the book’s meaning and Lowrey’s talent. While masterfully rebuilding a well-worn classic into a dazzling, entertaining romp, the author’s skill makes the project look effortless.

– Lost Boi by Sassafras Lowrey reviewed at the Globe and Mail

Lost Boi has been one of my favourite reads of the year, so it’s good to see it getting positive mainstream attention!

AfterEllen posted AfterEllen.com’s Summer of Love: Reviews of lesbian romance novels all summer long.

At Book Riot, I posted Kids Need Queer Books: On the Challenging of LGBTQ Books in Schools. (Did I mention that I became a Book Riot contributor?)

Gay YA posted

Rainbow Romance Writers posted Now this is what I call a milestone for LGBT romance.

“An Illustrated Report from the Queers & Comics Conference” was posted at The Comics Journal.

“Should there be diverse, explicit sex scenes in YA?” was posted by Lauren James.

Lumberjanes by Noelle Stevenson was reviewed at Gay YA.

I Ate the Cosmos for Breakfast by Melissa Studdard was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Megan Casey Reviews All the Muscle You Need by Diana McRae

Posted on May 20, 2015 by Danika Ellis

This, the only novel featuring Eliza Pirex, is surprisingly good. And for a surprising number of reasons. The writing is good, the mystery engaging, and the characters interesting. But that’s just for starters. The best part may be that it is the most realistic description of being a private investigator that I can remember. Eliza, who speaks to us in the first person present, tells us about the criteria for becoming a PI in California, explains how her office is run, and lets us in on not only the primary case, but all her other cases as well. It is, in fact, a book about being a private eye. And at around 130,000 words, it has the length to tell several stories at once and to do it well. Published in 1988, it is a part of the first wave of lesbian mysteries.

On the surface, the book is about one woman’s search for her college chum, who mysteriously disappeared six years before the book begins. But someone, it seems, doesn’t want Eliza to find her. Eliza’s other cases are just as interesting: moonlighting with a cleaning service at a local college to find the person who has been molesting women students, and investigating the acquaintances of another client, all of whom seem to take advantage of the gullible woman.

Eliza’s love life, too, is interesting and fairly unique. She lives with a woman named Honor Sutton, who is a commercial designer, and Honor’s two children, ages 7 and 12 from her previous marriage. Honor is cut from nifty cloth, not from the cardboard that seems to be the makeup of many of the love interests we read about. Her relationship with her odd family and her general daffiness give life to the book and even give reason not to dislike the odd book title, which is a phrase from Honor’s promo campaign for Eliza’s business.

Eliza is one of the only lesbian detectives I have read about to live with kids (Cherry Hartman’s Morgan McRain and Tonya Muir’s Lacey Montgomery are two others). Claire McNab’s Carol Ashton has a young son who visits her, but who lives with his dad. Eliza seems like a real mother to her adopted ones. Her feelings for them are sensitive and believable (while Ashton’s are often unrealistically gushy or mechanical rather than spontaneous) and her kids make up an important part of the interest of the book (while, again, Ashton’s son just seems to be there taking up space.)
Eliza, however, can’t seem to keep her hands off an old girlfriend, and when Honor finds out, there is hell to pay. As Eliza tells us,

“Women tend to be more monogamous than men. So in a relationship between two women, the odds that it is monogamous are good. I don’t know why I stray against the odds every so once in a while. Probably because I’m a detective and we detectives have a yen for romance and adventure . . . ”

Like most books, All the Muscle You Need has a few problems; one or two of the plot devices seem a little too hard to believe and Eliza Pirex is probably the worst-named character in lesbian fiction. On the whole, though, it works. A goodly number of stars for a early lesbian mystery that few people—even aficionados—have ever heard of.

For other reviews by Megan Casey, see her website at https://sites.google.com/site/theartofthelesbianmysterynovel/ or join her Goodreads Lesbian Mystery group at https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/116660-lesbian-mysteries

Link Round Up: May 11 – 17

Posted on May 17, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Autostraddle posted

Gay YA posted How To Make Your Library a Safe Place for Queer Teens and M.E. Kerr and Deliver Us from Evie.

GLBT Reviews posted Lesbian Paranormal Romance recommendations.

Okazu posted Event Report : Queers and Comics Conference.

Women and Words posted Publisher’s Corner with Bella Books!

“Faith and Spirituality in YA Lit: GLBTQ YA and Issues of Faith” was posted at Teen Librarian Toolbox.

Petticoats and Promises by Penelope Friday was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Citrus, Volume 2 by Saburouta was reviewed at Okazu.

Danika reviews Lost Boi by Sassafras Lowrey

Posted on May 17, 2015 by Danika Ellis

I don’t even know where to start in describing how much I loved this. I am tempted to just tell you “This is a queer punk retelling of Peter Pan.” If that intrigues you (as it did me), don’t hesitate. It will be all you dreamed of and more. And if that doesn’t interest you–if a D/s leather queer homeless youth interpretation of Peter Pan complete with sex worker mermaids, pigeon fairies, and Leather pirates doesn’t sell you on it–then it probably won’t be your cup of tea. But because I have a lot of feelings about this book, I’ll elaborate anyways.

Just from first impression, Lost Boi is a beautiful book. With the black cover, gold framing, and deckle edges, it looks reminiscent of a bible. I also was immediately struck by the perspective of the novel: it’s told by one of the lost bois, Tootles. The whole time I was reading, I was considering whose story this is. Is it Wendi’s? Pan’s? Tootles? I think you could argue for any of those convincingly, but having it from a lost boi’s perspective gives a lot more weight and consideration to their circumstances, to their real experience of living out Pan’s vision of Neverland.

Sadly, I haven’t read the original Peter Pan (but now I want to just to re-read Lost Boi and get even more out of it). But even without an intimate understanding of the original text, it’s obvious how much has been incorporated into this interpretation. Every adaption feels completely natural, even one-off lines like “second streetlight on the right and straight on till Morning street!” work equally well as references and as in their own context.

What made fall in love with Lost Boi was how much it caught me off balance. I loved the variety of pronouns and identities, and how Lowrey doesn’t explain everyone’s gender identity to the reader. It’s incredibly queer, and though I would like to think that I don’t assume people’s gender identities or expressions, I would find myself surprised when descriptions of bodies or clothes didn’t match up with what I imagined. “Huh, so that character wears a sports bra!” “Oh, so one of the bois uses she/her pronouns.”

Beyond the gender and sexuality aspect, there’s also the whole question of the D/s dynamic between Pan and the bois. Pan is significantly older than the other bois, maybe close to twice some of their ages, and consent and safety are not top of his priority list. At times I was uncomfortable with Pan and wondering whether he was a positive character–and then I realized that this is an interpretation of Peter Pan! He’s not supposed to be a perfect person, or even someone you always like. That’s part of the refusal to grow up: his refusal to consider the consequences, or to necessarily take responsibility. Pan/Peter Pan have magic to them, and wonder, and definitely an attraction, but they’re also dangerous and reckless. He’s supposed to be a character that the reader has a complicated relationship, I think, and that makes perfect sense considering the complicated relationships he has with everyone else.

It also made me think about the association of queer identity with youth–how little representation there is for being a queer grown up. And the further you are along the scale of GLBT+, the fewer representations you’ll have of being an adult, or god forbid being elderly. That makes it difficult to know how to be queer and an adult at the same, suggesting that you have to choose one. And of the course the term “boi” itself, a gender identity, is dependent on that association with youth. I loved Sassafras Lowrey’s look at the difficulties of this, and hir acknowledgement that there are things you lose growing up, magic you lose. But ze still offers a glimpse of alternative kinds of adulthood, that you don’t have to lose your identity to become an adult.

The first book I read by Sassafras Lowrey was the collection ze edited about and by queer homeless youth, Kicked Out. That is also an excellent book, but it’s interesting to read Lost Boi with that in mind, because although the Pan and the lost bois’ story is told through the interpretation of Peter Pan, it doesn’t use their homelessness as just a prop in the story, an interesting setting for Neverland. Lowrey cared about the kids who have to live this, and that really shines through when we get glimpses of the lost bois’ lives before Neverland and why exactly they “fell out of the pram”.

This was one of my favourite books I read this year, only the second 5 star rating I’ve given since January (The Color Purple was the first). I highly, highly recommend this one, though do be warned that this has a lot of D/s and the “battles”/scenes can be pretty brutal. In conclusion: “Queer punk Peter Pan reimagining.” Go read it.

Danika reviews Where the Words End and My Body Begins by Amber Dawn

Posted on May 15, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Where the Words End and My Body Begins is a collection of glosa poems, which means, in part, that each poem incorporates four sequential lines from another poem. What makes this collection especially interesting is Amber Dawn’s selections: each poet glossed “find[s] themselves somewhere along the queer, gender-creative, feminism and/or survivor spectrum.” Although each poet has a different style, which helps shape the glosa created from it, there are some themes that weave the pieces together, including mental illness, sex work, and above all, survivorship.

It’s fascinating to see the different ways that Amber Dawn works with the original poems and creates something new out of them. Some seem to be organic expansions on the original, like she found more words hidden between the lines. Others reinterpret each line and put them in a completely different context. Probably because these are glosas, her writing style varies dramatically throughout the collection. Some worked a lot better for me as a reader–I tend to prefer more grounded, prose-y poetry.

This was an interesting collection that really explores different styles and voices. I think most people will find some poems that speak to them in here, though they may not all hit their mark, depending on the reader. I had to read out the lines “[Sadness] is always here / like a lake forever fed by a cold creek. / Damn right a nature metaphor! / Want more?” to my roommate, because I was cracking up at that interjection.

I never quite know how to review poetry without just quoting it and letting you see for yourself if it’s your style, so here’s part of one of the poems that stuck with me:

I’d sooner howl at a wounded moon, yes, I might
swoon at a questionable light
but at least I still swoon–my scabby kneecaps
may always weep pink, I’m so often floored.
I’ll never be a two-feet-on-the-ground girl.

. . .

Never confuse hold fast with hold still.
There’s so much yet to do. Swoon. I say swoon forever! Apathy
is the world’s worst lover

Rachel reviews The Year They Burned the Books by Nancy Garden

Posted on May 14, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Nancy Garden, author of the classic Annie on my Mind, wrote another poignant novel about lesbians. This time, she touched on controversy about homosexuality, censorship, and free speech. The Year They Burned The Books is that novel.

Published in 1999, this story still rings true today about how far censorship and prejudice can go. The story revolves around Jamie Crawford, a senior at Wilson High School, who is editor of the school paper, the Telegraph. She is coming out to herself as a lesbian. In her school, a new policy comes out, allowing condoms to be distributed in the nurse’s office. When Jamie writes an editorial supporting it, she is met with opposition, especially from Lisa Buel, a woman running for a position on the school board. Lisa wants to rewrite the entire school curriculum, including removing books on homosexuality, discussing abstinence, and omitting facts about cohabiting couples. When Jamie stays true to her views, other students begin to lash out at her, and the school paper. Soon, Jamie’s town comes under a huge censorship scandal, and she and her gay friends face discrimination.

The Year They Burned The Books nails it when it comes to discrimination and free speech rights. Nancy Garden based this book off a real-life event, when copies of her novel Annie were burned on courthouse steps in a town in Kansas, and the books were nearly banned from schools in the district. The Year They Burned The Books shows accurately how far discrimination can be taken.

The main conflict in the story starts out with the health curriculum, but as the novel progresses, the characters begin to spar over things like religion and homosexuality. Jamie is firm in her opinions, but there are a couple characters who are conflicted. Nomi, Jamie’s longtime friend, wants to stay Jamie’s friend, but the church she goes to says homosexuality is immoral. She must wrestle with her beliefs and come to her own conclusions. Then there is Ernie, the boyfriend of Terry, Jamie’s best friend. Ernie loves Terry, but his parents are completely against homosexuality. He feels he has to be straight, and feels loathing and disgust towards himself. He too must try and reconcile his beliefs with his sexuality.

Other characters were highly unlikeable, especially Lisa Buel. She promotes discrimination in the name of her religion, and her insults towards homosexuals are infuriating. As she campaigns for school board membership, she purposely deceives voters by not sharing her true intentions. She also resorts to extreme measures, one being checking out library books about gays and lesbians, burning them, and then lying about burning library books. These things showed her bad side.

This story can be heavy at times, with Jamie and her friends getting scary notes in school, the town’s narrow-minded side, and the school paper coming under fire because of Jamie’s editorial. Many students at Wilson High go to church one day, and the next day they launch hatred against the gay students. Nancy Garden wasn’t afraid to show this side of people, which I applaud.

I also loved how Jamie and her friends stuck with their beliefs and stood up to those who hated them. One of my favorites was Tessa, the new girl at school. She was dead firm in her human rights opinions and was not afraid to say so. She and Jamie made perfect friends, and balanced each other out. Terry was also not afraid to jump in to defend those he cared about, especially Ernie.

The Year They Burned The Books had its tense moments, and times when I got really angry. But there was still goodness and hope in the story. It was a satisfying read, and gays and lesbians should read this. Straight people should read it too, as it touches on all true subjects and challenges censoring people’s opinions. Some may disagree with the views expressed in this book, but that’s okay, as long as everyone can believe what they want without being hurt. That’s what this novel teaches; being entitled to your beliefs without being persecuted. I thought this story was amazingly told, and with a sympathetic, likeable heroine, The Year They Burned The Books should be a major classic as well.

Elinor reviews How Sweet It Is by Melissa Brayden

Posted on May 13, 2015 by Danika Ellis

Molly O’Brien runs a bakeshop, Flour Child, in her impossibly charming hometown of Applewood. She’s never left Applewood, and why would she? Applewood is the sort of small town that exists in fiction, a real community where people all know and care about each other, where nothing terrible really ever happens. Plus, it’s only several hours’ drive from Chicago, conveniently close other adorable towns with delightful little restaurants, and you can get to a twenty-four Walmart in less than twenty minutes. Molly has spent her adult life with her high school sweetheart, Cassie Tuscana, whose parents are both local doctors. As young women, Molly took over her father’s bakeshop, Cassie went to work in administration in her parents’ medical practice, and the couple bought a darling old house and planned to live happily ever after. Then Cassie was killed in a plane crash.

The book opens four years after Cassie’s death, with Molly still running the bakeshop, still living in the darling house (that needs repair), and definitely not moving on romantically. Her in-laws, the Tuscanas, remain an important part of her life. When Cassie’s younger sister Jordan, a hotshot L.A. film producer, returns to Applewood for the first time since Cassie’s death, it makes sense that Jordan and Molly would reconnect. After all, they’ve known each other since Molly was a teenager and Jordan was a tween. But Molly’s surprised when spending time with Jordan awakens feelings she thought died with her late partner. Molly dips her toes into the world of dating again by being set up by friends, yet can’t stop feeling a spark with Jordan. Jordan feels it too, but neither woman is sure how to navigate this very unexpected mutual attraction.

How Sweet It Is is a pretty fluffy romance, despite the grief that everyone feels for Cassie. Each character has their own relationship with Cassie, and I liked that their feelings about her were not easily pushed aside. She was Molly’s only romantic relationship. It’s understandable why Molly is hesitant to start dating for the first time as an adult, particularly as she worries that doing so might upset her close relationship with her in-laws. Jordan loved and admired her sister, even though she spent most of her life in Cassie’s shadow–even Jordan coming out was brushed off by people as “Jordan trying to be like Cassie.” While the grief about Cassie was still present for the characters, it in no way overwhelmed the sweetness of the romance or the cuteness of the town. At first I wasn’t sure about the whole falling-for-your-late-partner’s-sister thing, but it was done very respectfully and organically. Setting the story a few years after Cassie’s death helped with this, I think.

The other thing that helped was Brayden’s writing. The characters talked and bantered in a way that was genuinely fun to read. Even some of the things in this book that I initially side-eyed ended up working pretty nicely. For example, I found Molly’s business model unworkable. Her bakeshop has three employees besides Molly–one just doing deliveries–but no money to buy an espresso machine and therefore retain customers who wanted a latte with their cinnamon roll. Pretty early in the book, it’s revealed that Flour Child is actually in a terrible position financially and is on the verge of closing. Molly doesn’t tell her employees (or, it’s implied, consider laying any of them off) because Molly’s nice and wants to make people happy. She also runs away from conflict, which is shown as a part of Molly’s character consistently in many aspects of her life. It was well-done and the secondary plot of Molly trying to figure out how to save her bakeshop ended up being emotionally engaging and one of the best parts of the book.

Unfortunately, Jordan wasn’t a well-developed a character as Molly. She was still a complete character, but she wasn’t as rounded out. We’re told she’s stunning and her looks and clothes are described pretty frequently, but I wanted to know more about Jordan’s inner world than her outer appearance. Her career as a producer didn’t get as much attention as Molly’s profession, even though it could be incredibly interesting. I once dated somebody whose parents were television producers and it’s a weird job! I got an iPod from Drew Carey because of it, and heard occasional celebrity gossip, and that was just television production. Film production could add so much flavor. The demands of Molly’s career as a baker and owner of a small business are so different from the demands of Jordan’s career. What would Jordan’s late and irregular hours mean for Molly, who has to get up early? Jordan’s job either forces her to be away on location regularly or to be where there’s a market for film producers, which is probably not small town Illinois where Molly’s tied to a business. This could have been a rich source of tension, but Jordan’s non-Applewood past and her career seemed like an afterthought. Jordan returned to Applewood in part because she’d just lost her job because she was being sexually harassed, something that’s mentioned early and then never brought up again or resolved. Jordan also comes home to start a production company with a L.A. friend willing to relocate, with a business model I found even more unlikely than Molly’s, but doesn’t seem to encounter any difficulty at all. Early on, it’s implied that Jordan has never wanted to settle down and maybe had a lot of flings with women in the past, but this isn’t explored much either.

However, Jordan is much more a real person than many lesbian romance leads. She has quirks and charm, and so does Molly. Applewood is pleasantly free of homophobia, both the main characters are out, and the impediments to the romance make sense without being out of insurmountable. Those things alone make it worth the read for lesbian romance fans. I’m going to check out some of Brayden’s other books. Her writing is fun, which is something I always want more of when I’m reading romance.

The Lesbrary

Lesbian and Bi Book News and Reviews

Month: May 2015