The Story of Ruth and Eliza // self/help/work/book by Kristen Stone is a double-sided chapbook, with one side being the novella The Story of Ruth and Eliza and the other side the poem self/help/work/book. The poem is eight pages and has to do with abusive relationships. It’s fragmented, and it’s unclear which segments are connected, but they come together to establish a discomfiting mood, and communicates a lot in a small space. I appreciated how Stone used different techniques throughout the poem, from one run-on look inside someone’s mind to short, stark sentences that stand alone in a section. I read this after The Story of Ruth and Eliza, but I would recommend starting with the poem instead, or reading them in different settings, because Ruth and Eliza overshadowed self/help/work/book some for me.

The Story of Ruth and Eliza is a novella (or lengthy short story?) that revolves around two characters: Ruth, a witch, and Eliza, a nurse. The story is told in many small sections, some several pages long and some only a few lines. Each is titled, and though they are written in prose, they seem to act like poems. Stone definitely bring a poetic element into the story, and so many of the lines seem as carefully chosen and evocative  as poetry. Ruth and Eliza meet in a sign language class, and they are brought closer by working on a group project together. Ruth is lonely, and envies Eliza’s home, which is filled with the presence of her children and husband. They are both drawn to each other, but this isn’t exactly a love story.

I instantly fell in love with Kristen Stone’s voice, and found myself reading out lines to my roommate, though I wouldn’t be able to explain why those sentences struck such a chord, like this paragraph, in the section “Dog Kickers”:

When Ruth sees something cure she immediately imagines someone doing damage to it. Crushing its face. Once in the library she heard a woman holding a tiny baby say to another women, I’ll be so glad when she’s too big to fit in the microwave. Ruth wishes for a child but know she can’t. She would think only of the microwave.

I also actually laughed several times while reading, too, which I don’t usually do, and at lines like: “Emmaline and Eddie both seem to think there would be dinosaurs at the zoo. They had confused the idea of a museum and the idea of a zoo and the film Jumanji.

Besides the voice, I most enjoyed the backstories given in The Story of Ruth and Eliza. Both of them are really interesting characters, but it was Eliza’s childhood that really stuck with me. These are definitely characters that are going to stick with me, and that’s especially impressive considering how short this story is (61 pages). There’s also an element of magical realism to the story–is Ruth a witch? What does that mean?–which is left up to interpretation, which adds to the interest.

I was definitely impressed with this chapbook. There were a few typos, but only two or three, and other than that it felt polished and thoughtful. I have another book by Kristen Stone, Domestication Handbook, on my TBR pile, and after reading this one I’m really excited to start it.


If you enjoy being drawn into a story, so that every breathe you breath is in time with the characters, then Carry The Sky by Kate Gray is a must-read.

I was immediately entranced with the skilful beauty of Gray’s poetic sentence structure. Her freedom from traditional prose constraints allows the independent expressions to grab you by the heart and knock the emotional wind out of you time and time again.

The boarding school based narrative is told from varying perspectives, centring on new rowing coach Taylor Alta and physics teacher Jack Song. Taylor is grieving the loss of the woman she loved, while coming to terms with her school responsibilities. Jack is grappling with his Asian American heritage and its impact on his relationship with a student. Their independent journeys are connected through school expectations and student interactions.

While I’ve simplified the plot for this review, the intricacies of the character self discovery and development provide a feast for any hungry bibliophile.

A significant character, in its own rights, is rowing, described in luscious language usually reserved for the intimacy of a lover. I felt connected to the descriptions, as though they were my own thoughts and this embedded me deep in the narrative.

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Personally, I found Taylor’s voice to be more believable, whether because of my self-association with her character or the author’s semi-biographical input. I often found myself wanting to skip over Jack’s voice to get back to Taylor’s heartache. That in mind, the difference in character tone is a credit to Gray’s talent; they are entirely separate entities orbiting within the same universe.

Carry The Sky is hands down one of the best books I’ve read recently. It captured the intensity of school bullying without victimising the victim. It took hold of my spirit and wouldn’t release me until weeks after the last page.

For those who are similarly enthralled, you will find the interview at the end of the book an insightful read. You can also follow author Kate Gray’s blog.



Joss, Caroline, and Izzy were best friends. At nine, Caroline was abducted. At 17, Izzy was murdered. At 31, Joss is a tough-as-nails waitress at a bar in Chewelah, Washington, and she lives across the trailer park from her mom. Joss is not given to introspection, and the joking banter she engages in at work stands in for intimacy. Despite an almost galling lack of self-knowledge, Joss has a considerable and unwieldy psychic talent, and she reads tarot cards on the side.

An old classmate, Tammy, needs a reading. Weird stuff goes down, Joss passes out, and Tammy bails. Joss is displeased. They rejoin forces, because it seems the dead may not be staying dead. Other players from Joss’s past are called in including Elena, an old high school teacher. Strange happenings abound. Soon circumstances get way beyond anything Joss, Tammy, and Elena could ever control. They call in some assistance, and the cavalry rides in in the form of a lesbian Wiccan couple from Spokane. What’s going on in Chewelah?

This is a series opener. I have been a copy editor for over a decade. And I would pick up (or download) the second title in this series when it’s released, and that’s saying something. Let’s just get this out of the way–this book desperately needed a copy editor. Particularly one with a basic grasp of homonyms.

The book is also seriously uneven, and it sketches in its background and characters in broad strokes. At the beginning this is problematic because there’s really no hook, and it’s a plot-driven novel. Some of the plotting is brilliant. There are some amazing fundamental big ideas. But some of the plotting is clunky. How much abuse and murder can one tiny town hold? But–and stop, stop, just wait–after some hitches and starts, “Get Me Through the Night” takes off. It flies along for a while really enjoyably.

Despite Joss’s initial one-dimensionality, she’s an actual character. She grows and changes. She has some severe denial going on. And while I mentioned the Wiccan couple above, they’re great characters with an established relationship, but the real Lesbrarian interest spark is with Joss, who has never really felt–or acknowledged to herself that she has felt–anything for anyone. I appreciated that her initial romantic awakening isn’t overblown. It’s well in keeping with her character. And Emily Ryan guides your series-reading eye toward where Joss might be headed next, relationship-wise.

That’s one of the big strengths of this book: it’s a great setup. Joss is a character you’ll want to follow, having spent a good bit of time enjoying her company in the first book, at least after the initial chapters. She’s in a setting where you’ll want to see what transpires, and there’s a whole lot that could transpire, both personally and in general. (An excerpt from book two is appended.) And I think the best part–and this is so tough not to give away, because it was really just a brilliant bit–is that there is a gorgeous potential setup of a great Big Bad.


Never Too Late is the first book from Bold Strokes Books author Julie Blair.

After they attend a Melissa Etheridge concert together, a one-night stand in Atlanta between Jamie Hammond and a woman named Carly leaves both women profoundly affected. However, Jamie wakes up the next morning to find her companion gone with only a note of thanks. She returns to California to join her father’s business and become a full-fledged chiropractor, a fate she somewhat unwillingly embraces.

Twenty years later, Jamie’s business is in financial trouble because of an employee’s embezzlement and its consequences. She needs a new office manager, and Carly (now Carla Grant, soon-to-be divorced mother of one) walks through her door. Carla and Jamie recognize each other immediately, but each pretend not to, since this is a romance novel. Jamie has a closeted partner, Sheryl, who turns out to be the principal who tried to prevent Carla’s lesbian daughter from holding hands with her girlfriend at school. Jamie decides not to tell Carla or Sheryl about the other’s existence.

Carla fell in love with Jamie all those years ago in Atlanta, but chose duty and responsibility over self-discovery–she was pregnant when they had their one-night stand, and returned to marry her boyfriend. Now, her husband has discovered he’s also gay, and they’re separating amicably. Carla has the opportunity to start life over again as an out and proud lesbian, and she’s suddenly been confronted by the woman who made her realize what love could be. Carla and Jamie must negotiate their work and personal relationship through the difficulties presented by Jamie’s money troubles, her villainous partner, and her workaholism. Is it too late for them to have a second chance?

Never Too Late felt unbalanced as a romance: the focus was so much on Jamie and her problems that it sacrificed some intimacy between her and Carla in favor of exploring her character growth. Which is fine, unless you were expecting a romance that gave equal weight to each main character; the obstacles in the book were almost all created by Jamie. The obstacle of Jamie’s preexisting relationship was handled through the vilification of Sheryl, who [spoiler alert]:

  • is closeted
  • is obsessed with her potential work promotion
  • shops all the time and spends Jamie’s money
  • is unsympathetic
  • wears perfume Jamie hates
  • is totally cheating on Jamie WITH A MAN (*gasp* how could she!)

Sheryl is almost cartoonishly terrible, but Jamie doggedly stays with her anyway, far past the point where any reader would want her to. Despite these flaws, I was rooting for Carla and Jamie to cut through the tangled mess of Jamie’s life and get together. There are the seeds of a solid romance here, they just needed to be fertilized properly. There’s a lot of plot and a lot of characters to manage, and the romance ended up getting lost in the shuffle. Fans of Melissa Etheridge will enjoy frequent references to her work. For another tale of casual-to-serious lovers, try All the Wrong Places by Karin Kallmaker.


In which I review another book from Bold Strokes Publishing.  This YA drama enters around a girl names Riley, whose childhood has been traumatic – double orphaned and abused by her aunt and uncle, her and her brother Aiden grow up in a foster home where she gets yet more abuse from Mean Girls. As she grows up, she has to learn how to deal with her past and navigate dating as a young lesbian. And, well, that’s it.

First, let’s get the bad out of the way.  The plot lacks suspense or excitement. There’s a prologue which shows Riley in a dramatic moment, and this has been copy-and-pasted directly from the climax of the book. This, to me, is just lazy writing. It also backfired, because I forgot completely about the prologue until I reached that point in the book and realized that it sounded vaguely familiar.

Second, the book is so heavy on the telling and light on the showing that it kind of reads like a really, really, really really long synopsis. “This happened and then this and then this and then she felt this way but then this happened and she realized that this was not an interesting style to read at all.” Basically, as soon as one scene is set up, the reader is whisked away to another scene and given no time to be absorbed by the story.

And third, the characterizations. Riley is the epitome of the Not Like Other Girls.  She finds other girls shallow and vapid and doesn’t understand why everyone isn’t like her, working constantly towards her goals and never relaxing and also being consumed by “demons of fear.”  Throughout the book, however, Riley displays very little personality. Her responses are limited to responding in abject fear or unreasonable anger to situations, with no real in-between.

I can’t mention Riley’s characterization without mentioning the Other Girls as well. During her time in a group home, she gets intensely bullied both by the girls she lives with and the ones she goes to school with. This seems more like a gimmicky plot device on Rice’s part to make Riley a more sympathetic character with an even more traumatic past, because the bullying seems all out of place and the reactions to it vague at best. Having been a girl who went to high school, I am aware that bullying does occur, but if it gets to the levels described here, something is usually done about it. And not everyone in the world is a bully, yet Riley has no friends, or even acquaintances, during high school. Not a one. Zip. Nada. All other girls are described as faceless, shallow beings who exist purely to torment her.

In college, these faceless girls are given a name and a voice in the form of Riley’s new roommate, Brooke. Brooke goes out drinking and partying, has a boyfriend, and is mean to Riley. Again, Other Girl syndrome. Luckily, as Riley overcomes her problems and makes friends, Brooke kind of symbolically vanishes into the ether, so that’s good I guess.

Alright, enough with the negativity. Let’s talk about the good. Because despite all of the massive problems that this book has, there are some good points as well.

Riley’s relationship with her brother is presented very well. They have a funny, sweet and believable bond that was probably the only thing that kept me reading through the first part of the book. Their repartee, while verging into annoyingly witty at times, was a breath of fresh air after all the telling-not-showing. In fact, I would go so far as to say that dialogue and presenting relationships are Rice’s strengths as a writer.

Which brings me to talking about Riley and her sexuality. She’s a bullied unpopular high school kid, so doesn’t have any relationships then, but her burgeoning awareness of her sexuality is presented casually and naturally. She has no moments of big coming-out declaration – she just knows, and her brother takes it as par for the course. And I think that’s GREAT.  That no matter who you’re attracted to, it’s all equally as valid and real and there’s not always a big climactic coming-out moment.

And again, in college, there’s no drama about ‘finding the other lesbians’ – she just meets girls, who also happen to be gay, and is attracted to them, or becomes friends with them, and that’s cool too.  Because again, we’re not in some secret club and hide out. There are lesbians everywhere! You find us in coffeeshops and bookstores and bars and recital halls! Again, normalizing the LGBTQ community is fantastic.

The relationships that Riley builds in college are also done fairly well and probably my favorite part of the book. I could see a young me relating to her in her struggles to navigate the gay dating scene – because it’s not like we get any tips from mainstream media. And this point, that her relationships are valid and fairly well-written and relatable – is the main redeeming feature of The Melody of Light. It’s the only reason I’d recommend it to someone.

If you’re looking for an exciting read with high-quality writing, this probably isn’t the book for you. But if you want something featuring high-quality lesbian relationships and a bit of mediocre drama doesn’t put you off, then you may want to check it out.

If you liked this review, you can check out my book review blog at


I’ll admit that I’ve never quite understood the draw of a character who one “loves to hate,” and I’m even more baffled by a character who one “hates to hate” as I did the protagonist of Tangerine Twist. Willing to give virtually anyone a pass for their idiosyncrasies, poor judgement or blatant stupidity, I found it difficult to empathize with the self-absorbed Becca James as she forges ahead on a journey that would have been harrowing and perhaps even poignant if not for her schmaltz and theatrics.

Covering the musicians’ smoke breaks at the local pub where she waits tables, Becca dreams of becoming an accomplished musician herself. With her guitar, Tangerine Twist, slung about her, she keeps her dream alive alongside the memory of her grandfather, who nurtured her aspirations and helped to hone her skills as she plucked the strings of his upright bass when she was a young girl. Yet, since forgetting the lyrics while performing at her grandfather’s funeral, she lacks confidence, which prevents her from coming into her own — both as a musician, always settling for the backup role, and as a woman, puppy-dogging after her lover. This dynamic is witnessed time and time again after she stumbles upon her big break as part of a sizzling hot female duo, for it is her partner, Kara, who commands the stage just as she does Becca’s every insecurity and desire.

Drawn to Kara from the first glance, Becca proves utterly incapable of resisting her allure, the shape of her lips and penchant for the wild side. Given that her relationship with the sweet and wholesome Kelly Copeland has grown a bit stagnant, she barely gives a second thought to her neglect of what truly matters up to the point that Kelly sets her free. Even then, Becca doesn’t view the breakup as a wake-up call but as an excuse to dive headfirst into the dangerous waters of Kara’s reckless lifestyle.

Embracing her new-found freedom and professional success while succumbing to Kara’s naughty-girl influence, Becca adopts a persona that leaves those who care about her angry, hurt and frustrated with the person she has become. However, Becca sees no validity to their concerns until she awakens one morning amid rather sordid circumstances well outside the realm of who she knows herself to be.

There is nothing within me that cares to wax moralistic regarding Becca’s choices or Kara’s propensity for edginess; and, I was pleased to see the author assume a similar stance. On more than one occasion, Carr makes a point of mentioning that her characters, specifically Kara and Kelly, are simply being who they are and that the real issue is that Becca has yet to find herself. Thus, at the end of the day, Tangerine Twist is a story about the cultivation of self-awareness and the courage to live one’s truth.

Although well-written overall, I found specific passages to be rather clumsy. It seemed at times that Carr was attempting to be more literary than was natural or appropriate. On one occasion, she describes Kelly’s hair as “shining just like ice.” At another point, the exposed stuffing from Becca’s bulging couch cushions looks “like an unkempt beard lacking the melanin of youth.” Then, there is the mechanic whose smile is “as clean as freshly laundered sheets.” The use of simile, as exemplified above, came across as awkward and detracted from the story itself. In the same vein, I would have done anything for Becca’s guitar to be named something other than Tangerine Twist. It just didn’t work for me.

Had Becca been a more likeable character, I wouldn’t have had the slightest reservation in touting Tangerine Twist as a truly outstanding work of LGBT fiction. Sadly, she wasn’t presented in a manner such that empathy could arise. She simply felt like that high-maintenance, high-drama friend who we all try desperately to avoid. Nevertheless, a part of me wonders if it isn’t the mirroring of the ugliest parts of our nature that incites our aversion to Becca, leaving us to seek redemption, just as she does, in uncovering our most genuine sense of self.

sisteroutsider   hauntingofhillhouse   secondmangocover

Autostraddle posted Drawn to Comics: Lumberjanes’ Penultimate Issue! (Just For the First Storyline) and The Speakeasy Book Club #1: Let’s Talk About “Sister Outsider”.

Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian posted Queer Scare: LBQ Women’s Halloween Reads.

Gay YA posted How About NO?

Queer Romance Month posted Messy Happy Endings by Shira Glassman.

Lambda Literary posted Lesbian Mysteries for Fall.

tellmeagain   tributaries   askthepassengers

Illise Montoya posted Queer Lit, New Zines, and More LGBT Market Musing.

Rachel Spangler posted Goodbye Cate.

“Coming Out and Coming of Age: YA LGBTQ Books” was posted at Book Riot.

“LGBT Comic Book Characters Going Mainstream” was posted at Edge Media Network.

“Sara Farizan Is Your New Favorite Queer YA Novelist” was posted at That Lit Site.

“Exploring Lesbian-Themed Comic Extravaganza Girls Love Festival 12″ was posted at The Mary Sue.

Barring Complications by Blythe Rippon 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 pageWe’re also on FacebookGoodreadsYoutube and tumblr.


Hex Hall is a paranormal teen series with a straight main character. In fact, a lot of the personal drama of the book is a love triangle of her trying to choose between two guys. So why am I reviewing it at the Lesbrary? Because I loved her best friend Jenna too much not to share. I actually picked up the first Hex Hall book not knowing that there was a lesbian character at all (they must just be magnetically drawn to me at this point), so it was a pleasant surprise to find out that Sophie’s roommate at her new school (for magical beings) is a lesbian vampire!

I remember liking the first book, but this one really made me fall in love with Jenna and how she’s portrayed. For one thing, how common is it for a straight main character to have a lesbian best friend? The stereotypical sassy gay friend is done fairly often, but a straight girl who emotionally relies on her lesbian BFF? I was surprised at how appreciative I was of their relationship, because I feel like I haven’t seen it before. Sophie in the first book is immediately protective of Jenna, who’s an outcast at the school for being a vampire (metaphors!). Sophie obviously goes through her own struggles in that first book, and they begin to rely on each other. By Demon Glass, they have a rock solid relationship. When Sophie is offered a trip to go on, her first response is that she’ll only go if Jenna comes with her. Also, side note, Jenna is this tiny blonde vampire obsessed with the colour pink, which makes for a pretty different take on the trope.

In Demon Glass, Jenna takes on the protective role when Sophie is stuck with her usually-absent father. Along with being emotionally supportive of each other, Jenna and Sophie both gossip about their love lives, with each of them saying something to the effect of “Your girlfriend is so dreamy!” “I know, right?!” I also found it interesting that we see Sophie being jealous of Jenna’s girlfriend. As much as I’d love to see this series going towards Sophie being bisexual, I think it’s more likely that this just shows how close they are, and how much Sophie depends on her. I rarely see close relationships between gay characters and same-sex friends, especially ones that are as unselfconscious and unapologetic as this one.

Jenna doesn’t play as big a role near the end of the story, but I still feel like she is essential to the book as a whole. [spoilers] At first I was disappointed that Jenna and Sophie get in a big argument, because as I have said, I love their friendship, but it’s actually another good moment of characterization for Jenna. She doesn’t just exist to help Sophie along; she has her own values and priorities, and they don’t necessarily match Sophie’s. 

I actually tweeted while reading this that I was enjoying Jenna so much as a character that I was suddenly terrified that Hawkins was going to kill her off (the Bury Your Gays trope). Then came the end of the book, and I was FURIOUS. I nearly threw the book. I had to go and google the next book as quickly as I could to make sure that Jenna lived. Luckily, she does, or it would have negated this whole review. [/spoilers]

So if you’re looking for a quick, fun teen series with a lesbian subplot/secondary character, I really recommend the Hex Hall series (at least the first two books: I haven’t read the next ones yet).


In this 1997 novel by Paula Boock, Dare, Truth, or Promise explores the lives of two New Zealand teenage girls, and their budding romance.

Louise “Louie” Angelo is a confident girl preparing to become a lawyer. She meets Willa, a quiet new girl at her school who wants to be a chef. From the beginning, Louie is fascinated by Willa, who is reeling from a painful breakup with a girl that almost cost her everything. The girls become good friends, and Willa finds herself falling in love again. Soon, Louie’s admiration turns to love, and the two become lovers. But when Louie’s uptight mother finds out, a rough road is in store for both Louie and Willa. They must confront old demons and their own fears of homosexuality in order to be together.

Dare, Truth, or Promise is an easy read, told from both Louie and Willa’s perspectives, and the characters are realistic. It’s interesting how the two leads, Louie and Willa, are so opposite. Louie is from a rich family, lives in a big house, and is in a practicing Catholic family. Willa, on the other hand, is living in a pub her widowed mother owns, and is an atheist. Still, the girls have an undeniable love, and really care for each other. Other characters are interesting, such as Susi, Louie’s mother, who suspects her daughter’s relationship from the beginning. Other characters include Mo, Louie’s best friend at their all-girls school, Cathy, Willa’s ex-girlfriend, and of course, Willa’s adorable dog, Judas.

The fears the girls have over their relationship is very real. Louie worries that she is a sinner, while Willa worries of having her heart broken again. For a while, things are tense as Louie and Willa try to sort their emotions out, as well as gain acceptance from their families, friends, and religious groups. There are even a couple of nail biting moments that really drew me in.

This book, which takes place in New Zealand, has a glossary of words for the grammar and slang used in the story. And though tense at times, Dare, Truth, or Promise has really funny moments, such as the dog’s antics, or the banter between Louie and her brother and sister. And the moments where Louie and Willa are together, whether watching airplanes take off, or swimming in Louie’s Jacuzzi, add to the story. They have their disagreements; neither of them is perfect. But that accurately reflects all couples, be they gay or straight.

Though it’s a relatively short novel, (170 pages), it packs a punch and is very entertaining. Dare, Truth, or Promise is an exciting addition to teen lesbian literature.

I’m not sure I know how to summarize White is for Witching. It’s a bit of a haunted house story, sort of postmodern, Gothic-esque, definitely unsettling. It follows the story of Miranda, who at the beginning of the novel has disappeared. Her twin brother and the house she grew up in narrate the events that lead up to her disappearance, with her girlfriend getting the occasional paragraph of her perspective as well. (Yes, the house narrates part of the story. That tells you a lot about the kind of book this is.)

Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say about this one. The writing is beautiful, but I just didn’t really connect to the book as a whole. The only character I really found interesting was Ore, who doesn’t have a huge role to play in the story. In fact, most of her scenes are Ore and Miranda’s dysfunctional relationship, which left me disappointed. (Which was deliberate: this isn’t a romance, it’s more like a Gothic horror story.)

As for the plot itself, I spent a good portion of the book trying to sort out the narrators and what exactly was happening. (It took me while to really accept the house as a voice, even though it’s clearly labelled from the beginning.) After that, the events are dark and unsettling in exactly the way I’m looking for from an October read, but I think my experience with the book really suffered from reading it so quickly after House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (sadly, not a lesbian book). House of Leaves is also a haunted house story and does that incredibly well. White is for Witching is partly inspired by that story, and although they go in completely different directions, I think that Oyeyemi’s story wasn’t given a fair shot in my reading of it, since I was still trying to process House of Leaves.

I still enjoyed this book, and I definitely plan on reading more of Oyeyemi’s books, but White is for Witching never quite came together for me. I would still recommend it as a queer creepy read, perfect for a stormy October night, but I was looking for a little something more from it.



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