Tag Archives: author of color

When Duty and Love Conflict and Coincide: 3 Sapphic Bodyguard Romances

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There are few dynamics more swoon-worthy to me than a bodyguard romance: all of the pining of star-crossed lovers constantly at each other’s side, intense trust and protection, and often some sort of courtly intrigue. To make this sort of relationship work, the characters must be achingly careful and ultimately go through a drastic status quo change, which makes these stories compelling to me. Their genre can vary, so today, I’m doing a lightning round of reviews of three bodyguard romances: one sci-fi, one historical fantasy, and one contemporary.

Glorious Day by Skye Kilaen

Glorious Day cover

My most recent read was Skye Kilaen’s Glorious Day, a low heat sci-fi romance novella. Elsenna Hazen used to be the princess’s bodyguard, until two years ago, when they shared a kiss in the gardens. Since then, she has failed to forget her hopeless love, but she has focused on feeding information to a revolutionary group trying to topple the tyrannical king. Meanwhile, the princess’s life is being controlled by ableist caretakers. She must keep up the facade that she is helpless in order to survive her political situation, but Elsenna knows her better than that. When the princess reassigns her as her bodyguard, their romance rekindles while the revolution comes to a head.

This story is ultimately about being willing to fight—for one’s beliefs, one’s love, and one’s self. Due to her own role in a corrupt system, as well as the danger she has put herself in by betraying it, Elsenna considers her life and conscience forfeit. In order to not see her love as hopeless, she has to be able to imagine a future for herself. I enjoyed the arc for the princess (who is referred to with various titles and names over time, which had a significance I liked) and the role she ends up playing, as well as how this is gradually revealed through Elsenna’s perspective.

Considering this book was under 100 pages, I didn’t expect in-depth worldbuilding, and I liked the balance of plot and relationship development. That being said, though the writing was clear and polished, I would have appreciated more description. I often knew little about the character’s surroundings, which feels like a missed opportunity, given that this is set in a sci-fi monarchy featuring both high-tech equipment and extravagant ballrooms.

I recommend this book to those looking for a fast-paced read with a good balance of star-crossed romance and political maneuvering. 

You can find in-depth content warnings on the author’s website.

Daughter of Mystery by Heather Rose Jones

Daughter of Mystery cover

Earlier this year, I read Daughter of Mystery by Heather Rose Jones. This book takes place in an alternate regency setting with a magic system based in divine rituals. When Margarit Sovitre gains an unexpected inheritance, it includes a fortune but not a title, making her a target for the new baron. To remain safe, she has to rely on Barbara, a bodyguard included in the terms of the inheritance. They develop a slow burn romance while trying to navigate their new lives, which may be wrapped up in more layers of conspiracy than they realize.

Given that Barbara has been included in Margarit’s inheritance as if she were an object, there is obviously quite a large power differential that must be addressed, so the slow burn is appropriate as the characters have a lot to navigate. I appreciated the respect and care they showed for each other, and the way they were able to bond over their interests and abilities, as they both study the divine rituals despite others’ opposition. Both characters appealed to me for their wits, drive, and heart—and it’s hard to resist a lady with a sword.

I had been highly anticipating trying the Alpennia series, as I am a fan of unusual genre combinations, and the mix of historical fantasy, romance, and mystery that this promised seemed right up my alley. Unfortunately, I found myself wanting more of all of these elements. While I enjoyed the beginning and ending, the middle dragged a little for me because some of the plot elements promised in the official synopsis (re: royal conspiracies and the divine rituals) aren’t developed until late in the story. Instead, there is a lot of focus on the restrictions women faced in this time period, especially within the social politics of high society. This obviously isn’t a criticism, but rather a matter of personal expectations. If this sort of story appeals to you, and you want to read one with a sapphic romance and a touch of fantasy, I recommend this book. Personally, I was invested in enough characters, including the two who star in the second book, that I am interested in continuing in the series.

One of my main content warnings unfortunately comes with an additional caveat. There is an instance in this book of attempted sexual assault and incest that, while taken seriously in the moment, is brushed aside later to a degree that I found uncomfortable. I would have preferred this element to be followed up differently.

In addition to the already mentioned elements, this book contains brief instances of homophobia and violence.

How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole

the cover of How to Find a Princess

Though I read it in a past year, I can’t write about this trope without including one of my favorite contemporary romances, How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole. Though it is the second book in the Runaway Royals series, I understood and enjoyed it as a standalone. This is an Anastasia retelling about Makeda Hicks, whose life has been run by her mother’s obsession with the idea that Makeda is secretly the princess of a fictitious country. Makeda thus tries to avoid the whole business, even—especially—when Beznaria Chetchevaliere, an investigator from the World Federation of Monarchies, shows up to convince her to make the trek to Ibarania to prove she is the true heir. 

This book is, in a word, entertaining. I was drawn instantly to Bez, who subverts the concept of the stoic bodyguard by being eccentric, dramatic, and chaotic. Makeda is such a people pleaser that it ruined her latest relationship, but she finds herself bucking against Bez’s attempts to tell her how to live her life, managing to be just as stubborn as this whirlwind of a woman as she learns how to prioritize her own wants. Their push and pull as they grow to understand each other and become partners was the highlight of the book for me. I liked the emphasis on the idea that you can’t fix someone else; you can only try to be your best selves together, one step at a time. 

If you’re someone whose tastes lead more toward the fantastical but who is interested in trying more contemporary romance, I recommend this book, as its at times outright whacky circumstances, along with the bodyguard element, give it that edge of surreality. I also appreciated the inclusion of Bez’s neurodivergence and of sapphic Black love. 

I’ll continue to keep my eyes peeled for other bodyguard romances, and I hope that at least one of these three options suits everyone else who loves this trope.

Love, Friendship, and Hair Care: Wash Day Diaries by Jamila Rowser and Robyn Smith

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Wash Day Diaries cover

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In Wash Day Diaries, readers follow a group of four young Black women from the Bronx, getting a glimpse of their daily lives through their hair care routine and wash day experiences. Presented as five interconnected short story comics, we get to meet Kim, who can’t get her possessive ex-boyfriend to stop texting her and just wants him to leave her alone; Nisha, who finds her way into a sexy love triangle and doesn’t know who to pick or how to choose between the two men; Davene, who struggles with her mental health and doesn’t know how to reach out to her friends for help and support; and Cookie, who hasn’t seen her grandmother in a while due to their strained relationship, but agrees to help her take care of her hair regardless.

This is not a high stakes story, but Rowser and Smith are so incredibly talented, it nonetheless feels like a deeply significant reading experience. Their true talent lies in their ability to take this otherwise short, slice-of-life plot, and present so much backstory and character development in a way that is completely smooth and natural. By the end of it, even though you’ll have breezed through the whole graphic novel in one sitting, you’ll feel as though you have known these characters their whole lives.

The beauty of this story is in how healing it is: from the panels detailing each step of a character’s hair care routine, to the passages showcasing the ways in which said routine can provide a safe space for open communication and love, the entire novel feels like a warm hug. I’m not usually a fan of slice-of-life stories, especially when it only spans over a few days, because I often get the sense that I did not have the opportunity to truly connect with the characters. However, this is absolutely not the case here. Rowser and Smith laid out so many different types of love within these pages and managed to address incredibly complex and nuanced topics within such a limited space, it is a true testament to the quality of their craft.

I love each of these characters, but Davene and Cookie are tied for my favourites. Davene’s struggles with her mental health will feel deeply relatable to a lot of people, specifically when it comes to her executive dysfunction and her difficulty reaching out to those around her. Rowser and Smith also don’t try to resolve her issues in a perfect, little package by the end of the story: they take the time to recognize that as healing as it might be to spend time with a friend, your depression and anxiety will not magically resolve themselves. People will misunderstand what you’re going through, they won’t know how to discuss it with you without accidentally being invalidating, they might not even be aware that you’re struggling at all. The book recognizes and expresses these realities that are difficult to admit, but important to discuss—and shows us that although community and support won’t solve everything, they are nonetheless genuinely helpful.

Cookie is another favourite of mine, not only for her loving and electric personality, but also because her queerness and her strained relationship with her grandmother are so personal to me. Coming out to your family and having that conversation completely change your relationship with them, oftentimes for the worse, is sadly an all-too common experience for queer people. Being able to read Cookie’s story, and seeing that despite their fraught relationship, her and her grandmother managed to find the space and opportunity to talk, connect, and understand one another, once again, was very healing for me. Rowser and Smith, as always, presented the situation in a way that was very realistic and grounded, not trying to sell their audience some pipe dream or featuring a three step guaranteed process to getting your family to accept every facet of your queerness. The entire chapter details the complex and nuanced rollercoaster of emotions that Cookie experiences behind her otherwise outgoing and bubbly personality, making her an incredibly fleshed out and relatable character. I truly loved reading every single panel she was in.

As a whole, the novel does an impressive job of pretending to be a soft, easy, slice-of-slice story, while taking you through an emotional journey of love, connection, community, identity, happiness, friendship, and support. It’s a quick read, but I strongly recommend taking your time to appreciate every aspect of the book, including each character’s little quirks and habits, as well as the beautiful art style. Smith does a stunning job of making these characters pop on the page—the colours are eye-catching, each character’s design is so well executed, and the ways that the panels flow together brings the whole thing to life. It truly is a dynamic reading experience, and I guarantee that you will fall in love with at least one, if not all of these women.

Representation: Black main characters, sapphic Dominican main character, main character dealing with depression/mental health issues

Content warnings: homophobia, depression, mental illness, dementia, toxic relationship, stalking, sexual harassment

A Wing-Woman Rom-Com: Sorry, Bro by Taleen Voskuni

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the cover of Sorry, Bro

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After ending her long-term relationship with her non-Armenian boyfriend, Nar decides to agree to let her mother help her find a new boyfriend among the eligible Armenian bachelors of San Francisco.  She plans to spend the next month at local Explore Armenia events, meeting the men her very determined mother has picked out for her. At her very first event, however, she meets Erebuni, a smart and charming woman with whom she feels more of a connection than she does any of the mom-approved men she is supposed to be looking for.

Despite the premise, Taleen Voskuni’s beautifully titled Sorry, Bro does not spend nearly as much time as I feared it might on the search for a man.  While Nar is theoretically at these events to meet certain men, her actual searching for the most part extends only so far as a brief conversation before determining she has no interest in him and then spending the rest of the event hanging out with Erebuni.  In fact, Nar recognizes right from the beginning that she has a crush on Erebuni, and the only thing stopping her from dropping her search entirely is the fact that she is not ready to be out to her family yet.

As a big friends-to-lovers fan, I really vibed with this book. I find I tend to get frustrated when a romance spends too long trying to convince me these characters don’t like each other or, in this case, pursuing other people, so I appreciated the way this one got to the point. Nar and Erebuni liked each other from the beginning, and it was merely a matter of figuring out where to go from there.

I will say, I personally prefer dual-POV romance over singular-POV—for various reasons, but the one that is most relevant being that singular POV can make me feel locked out of one person’s head, and I did get a bit of that feeling with this one. This was particularly true when it came to the third-act conflict. Because of the way things played out, I really would have liked to actually see Erebuni’s perspective on all of that, and the fact that we didn’t, coupled with how long that section of the book went on, made it feel more like Nar’s story than Nar-and-Erebuni’s story.

Still, I really loved this book. Nar’s voice was funny and engaging. For all her faults, I completely understood where she was coming from, and I understood why Erebuni would love her. And Erebuni—I know a lot of people complain about instalove (I am not one of those people, and I wouldn’t call this book instalove either, to be clear), but I was as charmed by her from the beginning as Nar was. Their romance was likewise charming, and an excellent example of why I prefer friends-to-lovers over most other romantic dynamics. Their connection was clear from the beginning, their friendship as believable as the romance that grew out of it.

As a romance and a love letter to Armenian culture, to family and friendship, I wholeheartedly recommend this book. Sorry, Bro has earned Taleen Voskuni a place on my authors-to-watch list, and I hope yours as well.

A Fresh, Queer Take on Crime Fiction: Behind You by Catherine Hernandez

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Behind You cover

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In her new novel, Catherine Hernandez weaves gripping suspense and affecting emotion into a story of trauma, survival, and healing against the backdrop of one of Canada’s most terrifying historical events. 

Behind You (HarperAvenue 2024) follows Alma, a Filipina woman working as an editor for a true crime series called Infamous, which features sketches of some of history’s most famous serial murderers in the twentieth century. Although trying to balance her relationship with her wife, her teenage son’s moods, and her own health, Alma seems to have a fulfilling life. However, as she edits the last episode of Infamous, a profile of the Scarborough Stalker who raped and killed women during Alma’s childhood in the 80s and 90s, everything left unsaid begins to broil to the surface in her life. 

Soon, it becomes clear that many of Alma’s memories of a childhood spent fighting to be seen, heard, and understood against the backdrop of a manhunt for a dangerous predator are still unresolved. Moving back and forth across two timelines, we watch Alma as a little girl struggling to fit in and protect herself from dangerous characters close to home, and we watch the adult Alma try to cope with her memories and maintain her marriage and family life. Alma’s journey toward healing and safety is set against the backdrop of a dark chapter in Canada’s history and the wider implications of rape culture. 

I have many of Catherine Hernandez’s novels on my shelves, and Behind You is by far my favourite. Immersed in social and cultural history, the novel is an effective time machine: placing the reader in another context altogether and creating an atmosphere of dread as the young Alma encounters events and crimes she does not understand even as she copes with danger and abuse in her own home. Although Behind You is a thriller, Alma is truly central to the story, and the novel strikes the right balance between suspense and sentimentality. Part of the fear that this novel inspires is due to the fact that we care about Alma so much—even knowing her as an adult, we want her to make it out of her terrible home life intact. 

Secondary to the thriller element is Alma’s narrative of coming out and queer acceptance—which morphs into a story of queer joy—the universality of Alma’s queer experience as a young person is not only poignant but comforting. Her narrative is so believable, and it adds colour to a story that has been told and retold in popular media. Behind You explores the experiences of a young girl living on the periphery of a famous set of crimes and the way an atmosphere of danger and terror affects a person—coupled with a cavalier attitude towards crimes against women. Alma’s intensely critical perspective as an adult lends even more energy to her child-narrative, and the two timelines work in concert to create a scathing social critique I found refreshing. 

I highly recommend Behind You as your summer thriller. Hernandez offers a new—and queer—take on crime fiction that will keep you reading until the very end. 

Please add Behind You to your TBR on Goodreads and follow Catherine Hernandez on Instagram. 

Rachel Friars received her PhD in English from Queen’s University in Ontario, Canada in 2024. Her current research centers on neo-Victorianism and lesbian literature and history. Her work has been published with journals such as Studies in the Novel, The Journal of Neo-Victorian Studies, Queer Studies in Media and Popular Culture, and The Palgrave Handbook of neo-Victorianism.

You can find Rachel on X @RachelMFriars or on Goodreads @Rachel Friars.

A Home Run Against Student Loans in Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert

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the cover of Bunt!

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If you are like me, you are either anxiously awaiting news of your student loans being forgiven (if only) or desperately trying to not think about it at all (sorry). If only we could utilize our soft skills to vanquish them—if I could take out a percentage of my student loans for every book I read, I would be thriving. But thankfully for Molly Bauer, whose art school scholarship disappears at the start of her freshman year, she and nine other art students can receive a massive athletic scholarship if they win just one game. However, as Molly and her ragtag team of art compatriots struggle to learn the sport, they do learn how to work together on one of the most daunting assignments of all time: the dreaded group project.

I thoroughly enjoyed how goofy Bunt! is. It would have been so easy to sink into the scary situation Molly finds herself in, but Uzaku and Rupert refuse to let Molly (and the reader by extension) wallow. The illustration style and color palette add so much to the larger-than-life personalities of Molly and her friends, placing them on the top of my “fictional want to befriend” list. This team of queer weirdos galore make you want to cheer them on and on, even as the book is ending.

That being said, Bunt! does not shy away from harsh topics. The predatory nature of student loans and capitalism as a whole lurk almost constantly (even if it is hidden behind a cutesy shark with dollar-sign eyes), making Molly’s struggles even more relatable. Add to that the gentrification of Peachtree by PICA, the struggles of breaking free from family history as shown through Susanna and Ryan, and the stigma of dropping out of college in Ryan, and you have a book that would serve well into a discussion starter.

Comp titles include: the Scott Pilgrim series by Bryan Lee O’Malley, the Check Please! graphic novel duology by Ngozi Ukazu, or “Love and War #1” by Andrew Wheeler, Killian Ng, and Aditya Bidikar.

If you enjoy ragtag protagonists, college towns, sapphic romances, and saving a buck, you can order your copy of Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid through Bookshop, your local indie bookstore, or your library.

Sapphic Sleepaway Camp: Wish You Weren’t Here by Erin Baldwin

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Wish You Weren't Here cover

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Priya Freaking Pendley seems to have everything a girl could ask for: social media stardom, the handsome track captain boyfriend, and millions of adoring fans. Juliette might have to live with that during the school year, but at Fogridge Sleepaway Camp, Juliette reigns. It’s the one place where she can be herself instead of too “intense.” Their last summer before college, Juliette is ready to make the most of her summer, until she finds Priya as her lone bunkmate. Can she tolerate her childhood rival while making the most of her summer, or will Priya ruin it all?

The premise of two high school seniors dealing with their animosity while they’re forced to bunk together at sleepaway summer camp? Sign me up! This was a soft, heart-warming, great first step for a debut author. I’m curious to see what Baldwin will write next. I adored Baldwin’s ability to capture the magic and nostalgia of sleepaway summer camps. You’ll fall into the atmosphere as you read this one, with crickets chirping, twigs cracking, and the scent of burning firewood in the air. The queerness is authentic and natural; not overly discussed, but instead one beautiful aspect among many for several characters. Juliette’s story is one of self-realization and acceptance; perfect for a young adult about to make their way into the world.

From the story’s premise, I expected so much more tension from the start; animosity with reason. Instead, these two girls just…dislike each other. That’s it. It’s blown out of proportion, overdramatic in the prettiest sense. Juliette has no other reason for disliking Priya beyond the fact that everyone else adores her. Yes, that can get annoying, and I understand that high school girls develop “frenemies” (I honestly don’t think that’s the right term for what’s going on here, but “enemies” and “rivals” are too strong) growing up, but you don’t feel anything that Juliette feels toward Priya in this story. Once Priya arrives at camp, you start to see who she is beyond the glossy veneer, which I love, but Juliette’s slow abandonment of her hostility toward Priya doesn’t seem earned because it doesn’t start with any real strength. It just seems like… she’s so used to disliking Priya, that she can’t recall why she really does. The first chapter, at the party, really should have enforced their disdain for each other. Instead it’s just… there. There aren’t any real sparks of chemistry, either; just an entirely too slow burn that eventually leads toward an anti-climatic queer awakening. There was so much room for forgiveness and character development and instead every moment just felt flat and underproduced.

The Vibes 

  • Debut Book
  • Contemporary YA
  • Rivals to Lovers
  • Summer Vibes
  • Sapphic Romance
  • Found Family
  • Love to Hate/Hate to Love
  • Opposites Attract
  • Slow Burn

A Love Letter to Summer Camp: Wish You Weren’t Here by Erin Baldwin

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Wish You Weren't Here cover

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Enemies to lovers is a popular trope, but most people don’t have full-on nemeses in real life. So in contemporary settings, rivals to lovers is more common: the people you compete with, argue with, and hate. Wish You Weren’t Here presents a lower stakes version of even this: what if you fall in love with the girl from your class who annoys you? You’ve never had a full-on fight, but you both avoid each other and are snippy around each other. That’s the vibe of Juliette and Priya.

As you can imagine, this isn’t the same stakes as a typical fantasy novel’s enemies to lovers story, where you’re both trying to murder each other at every chance. At first, I thought it was too little conflict to be interesting, but as the story continued, I started to appreciate the dynamic. This isn’t the fine line between love and hate, kissing each other in a moment of passion. It’s the confusing moment of seeing someone in a different light—writing someone off and then seeing that they’re very different than you imagined them to be.

The other big factor in this teen sapphic romance is the setting. Wish You Weren’t Here is an unapologetic love letter to summer camp. It’s the only place Juliette feels she can entirely herself. Everywhere else, she’s too “intense.” Here, she’s celebrated for it. That’s why she has such a hard time when popular, rich girl Priya shows up to steal the spotlight: this is supposed to be her safe place. Priya gets everything else, so why does she get to take this from her?

At Fogridge Sleepaway Camp, lifelong friendships are forged. Campers see each other year after year and develop their own inside jokes based on shared history. Juliette adores this place and knows it inside and out; she clashes with a new counsellor partly because she can’t help but consider herself more of an expert and authority on camp. It’s interesting, because I went to summer camp every year, but this is a whole different vibe than my experience. For me, summer camp was a way to reinvent yourself, but it existed in a bubble—I pretty much never saw the same campers year to year. It’s interesting that in the author’s note, she says that she fell in love with summer camp as an adult counselor. Obviously, summer camp means different things to different people, and it was fun to get a glimpse of this version.

I wasn’t sold on this story in first half, partly because while Priya and Juliette bickered—mostly because of Juliette’s prickly personality—there wasn’t that much conflict overall. (Also, the scene with her and her six siblings stressed me out! No wonder she can’t wait to escape to summer camp.) The second half got me, though, because I thought the flirting and tension between them as their relationship shifted was so well done.

I ended up enjoying this more than I thought I would, and it was such a fun summer read. I read this partially in print and partly as an audiobook, and I recommend both. The short chapters—all of which have fun titles—make this a quick read, and I think anyone who has a soft spot for summer camp will get a dose of nostalgia. (Follow this up with That Summer Feeling by Bridget Morrissey if you start dreaming about adult summer camp!)

The Beauty and Bitterness of Unrequited Love: The Italy Letters by Vi Khi Nao

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The Italy Letters cover

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The Italy Letters by Vi Khi Nao (August 13, 2024) reads like bitter chocolate with rich undertones that will pique the acquired tastes of readers looking for poetic experimental fiction and stories about the mid-life crises of disillusioned literary fiction writers who are not cishet white Ivy Leaguing/New Yorker men. The bitterness comes from the raw, at times desperately pained but always poetic philosophizing of Nao’s narrator, who is struggling with simultaneous financial and emotional precarities that gives rise to frequent flights of morbidity and fantasy—both of which are channeled into the letters that make up this story. The object* of these letters? A straight married woman oceans away who our narrator seems to have developed unrequited intimacy as much out of need for some stability in her life as actual lust.

These heavy sentiments are punctuated by honey-decadent sentences that treat the English language like childhood Ello sets: bending, contorting and even breaking the set pieces in order to achieve a singular vision. Nao is deliberate and thoughtful in the way she writes her narrator’s frustration with a reality that is tired, faded, exhausted by lack of money, lack of mobility, the unfulfilled promises of an American Dream that is inextricable from the American army’s violent upheaval of the ground her mother was born on and later left, fueled by the same sense of absentia that even decades later drives serial addictions and suffuses her daughter’s longing letters.

I also appreciated how Nao de-romanticized the itinerant drifter artist archetype. If white boys who criss-crossed the country in the fifties while penning pieces that earned enough (give or take a couple of trust funds or working wives) to sustain their intoxicated shenanigans were the aspirational archetype that raised generations of equally entitled, misogynistic creators, Nao’s narrator, who is itinerant less out of a sense of thrill-seeking pastoralism and more because of the failures of late-stage capitalism, is more emblematic of the current cultural moment and the creators demanding their voices be heard within it. It is, therefore, also a book about what we owe to ourselves, about women who all too often live by what we feel we owe to others—to our lovers, our family, our bosses, the people whose money puts a roof over our head and food on the table. And it’s about how these patterns can repeat even in the lives of the queerest among us—how perhaps it is precisely those furthest on the margins that are most vulnerable to this sort of harm.

Readers will like this if they are looking for:

  • fiction that is feminist and frustrated with the state of things while still being dense enough to ruminate on a re-read.
  • prose that reads like poetry that reads like parts of Naomi Klein, Barbara Ehrenreich and Jasbir Puar’s nonfiction combined into a feeling body.
  • authors that use pop culture moments as springboards to discuss the deeper emotions and anxieties swirling in the zeitgeist.
  • stories about feeling isolated and lonely even when you’re around other people, and with a realistic denouement about starting to move in a more hopeful direction.
  • stories about toxic relationships where the protagonist eventually leaves them.
  • writing about the physical experience of living in a marginalized body. Nao’s writing is a particular standout for this.

Overall, this book won’t be for everyone. It’s one of those reads that’s got a lot of (as Sianne Ngai might put it) ugly feelings that make it hard to take in a single reading (unless, like me, you got to it at the tail end of a breakup that left you with the idea that the prefab middle-class HEA and all its attendant promises of security are moving further and further out of reach with each passing day). It’s also one of those books that ends on a hopeful note, but pulls you through a maelstrom of difficult feelings before doing so, and sometimes we’re a little too up close and personal with the feeling of precarity to want to read such a clear-eyed description of inhabiting it. But The Italy Letters (which you can preorder now) is definitely a book that, perhaps in another twenty or thirty or even ten years, will become part of the broader canon of queer fiction that so quintessentially captures what it was like to live through this.

*We only ever see her as filtered through these letters, this nebulous woman who we only know by nicknames and factoids, dialogue that is never quoted and therefore can be assumed to be cut and paraphrased through the narrator’s own lens.

Content warnings: suicidal Ideation, intimate partner violence, chronic illness, abusive relationships

Breaking Away from Religious Abuse: Gay the Pray Away by Natalie Naudus

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Gay the Pray Away cover

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Natalie Naudus’s debut novel Gay the Pray Away is a young adult romance set in present day, centered around 17 year old Valerie, who is closeted in a very strict religious upbringing (*cough cough* a cult), so if you have childhood religious trauma, mega trigger warnings here.

Valerie Danners—homeschooled since the 3rd grade, when her parents joined “the Institute”—has a love of reading books that aren’t the Bible (discouraged but allowed in moderation) and a serious lack of interest in marriage prospects, much to the dismay of her parents, who believe a woman’s role is to be a wife and mother. Her family’s values are shaped by the “Institute”—essentially a Christian nationalist megachurch whose values are so extreme, they consider even the hardcore Evangelical Christians to be “not Christian enough.”

After stumbling on a queer library book that she just can’t put down, Valerie’s already wavering feelings about her religion are challenged further. Suddenly she’s learning new words like “pansexual,” and reading about characters who express their love without judgment or criticism.

When so-called “troubled teen” Riley, who blasphemously wears pants, has short hair and plans to go to community college, is placed under Valerie’s wing for some ministry and mentorship, Valerie finds her world completely turned upside down. It’s Riley who ends up being the guiding light for Valerie as she comes to terms with her identity. 

Valerie is struggling with a lot of issues, not just her sexuality. Religion has been such a huge part of her life, she’s at odds with how to approach her spirituality outside of her strict upbringing—is there any part worth salvaging? And while at times it seemed Valerie was adapting to her moments of self-discovery and coming to terms with her newly discovered queerness far too quickly, I kept reminding myself that she was already questioning her family’s beliefs and how she fit into their world as the story opened. 

The book includes many heavy themes, and physical and emotional abuse occur both on and off the page, though Naudus softens the edges of this narrative with humor throughout. Tension is high, and I was wringing my hands anxiously during Valerie’s uncomfortable and toxic interactions with both her family and her supposed best friend, a friend who has her own serious issues. As Valerie works through her plan for the future, she remains at odds with wanting her parents’ love and acceptance, despite how they treat her, and that constant questioning makes each decision all the more difficult.  

I found it interesting that there is no exact geographic location mentioned until the end of the story (we only learn the state), which feels intentional on the author’s part. The detail both drives home the point that location is irrelevant, the story could take place anywhere, but it also introduces a sort of underlying feeling of isolation. I especially loved all the wholesome moments spent in the library and its portrayal as a safe space and refuge, not to mention one of the most important characters in the book who never even gets a name: the librarian who looks out for Valerie. 

In the author’s forward, Naudus, who’s also a prolific audiobook narrator, lets us know that she’s writing from experience, and this is exactly the kind of book she would have loved to have found when she was younger.

Content Warnings: Physical and emotional abuse, childhood trauma, religious trauma, homophobia, misogyny, racism, arranged marriage, child abuse

A Paranormal Romance Novella with Teeth: A Wolf Steps in Blood by Tamara Jerée

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A Wolf Steps in Blood cover

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“We are the figures of each other’s fairytales made flesh.”
– A Wolf Steps in Blood, page 22

Last October, I reviewed Tamara Jerée’s debut novel, The Fall That Saved Us, a romance between a former demon hunter and a succubus. As that was a favorite of the year, I couldn’t wait until Halloween to read their latest paranormal romance, A Wolf Steps in Blood. 

Over a century ago, a witch’s blessing—seen by the protagonist as a curse—gave werewolves their power. That spell is dying with time, but Yasmine and her sister both have strong abilities despite their mother lacking the ability to shift. None of them have ever met a witch, until Kalta, a blood witch who is on the run from her coven, crashes into Yasmine’s life. Though Yasmine isn’t sure if she can trust Kalta, it becomes clear that Kalta is her fated mate. While it’s expected for wolves to have soulmates, she was never expecting hers to be a witch, prompting the idea that the burgeoning couple could usher in a new age for werewolves.

As a Black lesbian werewolf in a rural town, Yasmine has been ostracized on multiple levels. After watching how her sister has been treated, she has internalized the idea that she needs to minimize herself rather than embrace her instincts, to the extent that she treats her inner wolf as a separate entity to be resented and feared. Additionally, she struggles with an eating disorder, and she generally feels stuck in a life where she tries to live on the down low. 

Meeting Kalta is a catalyst for her to finally explore her identity and embrace her own hunger. For her part, Kalta struggles with how her coven has treated her and her brother. While this book is more focused on the wolves, the glimpses we got into witch society and how it has impacted Kalta, and her arc in relation to this and her grief, were some of my favorite parts of the book. I enjoyed her whimsical, impulsive attitude, which made her a fun foil for the more reserved protagonist. 

As with the author’s past work, the writing manages to be both concise and atmospheric, raw and sentimental, bloody and healing. The intensity suits a whirlwind paranormal romance, drawing the reader into the character’s emotions while allowing for more quiet, intimate moments as well. I also continue to appreciate the way the author writes about darker topics, with a focus on characters healing from trauma. Their romances are as much about the characters learning to care for themselves as each other, with these concepts very much intertwined. 

Despite knowing that this would be a novella with a fast burn fated mates romance, I still struggled a bit at the beginning with how fast the characters and relationship were introduced. Even a little bit more development in the beginning would have helped me get invested sooner in the characters and their bond. Additionally, some of the setup made me wonder how wide in scope the story would be, with the talk about the communal fate of werewolves; with shorter works, I generally anticipate a narrow scope. By the end, I was satisfied with where things ended up, and I also grew invested in the characters and story as it developed, especially in the second half. 

If the idea of a fast burn paranormal romance novella about feral women appeals to you, especially if you like themes of family, grief, and community, then I recommend this book. If you’re more interested in a longer novel with more breathing room, then I recommend checking out the The Fall That Saved Us first, and coming back to this one for more of Tamara Jerée’s writing. 

Content notes taken from the book: This book contains depictions of an eating disorder, vomiting (blood, food), self-harm (blood magic), gore, animal death, grief, and sexual content.