Megan Casey reviews Tarnished Gold by Ann Aptaker

Posted on July 20, 2016 by Danika Ellis

I can’t think of a better time to post this review because Tarnished Gold—the second book in Aptaker’s Cantor Gold series—has just been named the co-winner of the 2016 Golden Crown Literary Award in the Mystery category. It was previously named co-winner of the Lambda Award, making it the only book ever to have won both awards.

Tarnished Gold finds the dapper art smuggler Cantor Gold in trouble not only with the police, but with the New York mob as well. It seems that her client, for whom she recovered a Dürer landscape painting from a Nazi in Europe, was brutally killed shortly after Cantor made the delivery. A mob boss is suspected, so to stop the cops from nosing around his business, he wants Cantor to find the killer—or else.

I’m a sucker for historical mysteries, so the fact that this book is set in 1950 already makes it a plus for me. But to keep on my right side, it has to sound like it was written in 1950 in addition to being well written and having interesting characters. Well, fear not, this book has all those. It may not be as good as Deborah Powell’s two novels about Hollis Carpenter, set in the 1930s, but it is well on the way. What it reminds me most of, though, is Therese Szymanski’s When the Dancing Stops, whose main character, Brett Higgins, also operates on the wrong side of the law.

Cantor Gold, like Brett, is a pretty unlikable character. For one thing, her face gets so continually banged up that many people’s first reaction would be to wince (she is, in fact, the Tarnished Gold of the title). She is intelligent, but selfish and she treats her women poorly. Her devotion to Sophie—a missing ex-girlfriend—may be sweet and honorable, but not at the expense of others who deserve better. As Cantor herself says, “I was always mystified by what Sophie saw in me.” Well, join the club. She also says, “I can be a cad and I know it.” But having a louse for a main character doesn’t mean a whole lot when the author is able to wield a keyboard as well as Aptaker does. In fact, it seems that she enjoys pointing out Cantor’s flaws.

When her woman-of-the-moment, Vivienne Parkhurst Trent, takes her to task for her ill treatment, Cantor agrees, although silently: “I’m speechless now, as if my tongue’s been cut out with the sharp blade of truth.” It is this kind of self-realization—and this kind of poetic writing—that puts this book in the way-above-average category. And Aptaker is a wiz with a simile. A police squad car—which Cantor loathes—is described as having “a chrome grill that looks like a mouth ready to spit.” It also“hugs the curb in front of my building like a rat claiming territory.” Not only are these descriptions vivid, but they are appropriate both for the time period and for Cantor’s mindset. It’s hard to get any better than a simile that works on three different levels.

I’ve already mentioned Szymanski’s book, but Tarnished Gold also reminds me of the fine novel by Lisa E. Davis, Under the Mink. The protagonist, Blackie Cole, is a 1940s nightclub singer who sometimes finds herself to the left of the straight and narrow. Like Cantor, she dresses mannish—so much so that she is always frightened that her place of business will be raided by the police and that she will be arrested for impersonating a man. The same holds true with Cantor and her friends—and the police in Tarnished Gold are not exemplary representatives of New York’s finest. The main cop in the story, Lieutenant Norm Huber, would do virtually anything to put Cantor in prison or in a psych unit. His vitriol is so palpable that we get the idea that he would gladly kill Cantor just to get such a pervert off the streets. I mean, it was bad in those days. Real bad.

Cantor, with her sidekicks Rosie the cab driver, Judson the information gatherer, and Red the tugboat skipper, have to delve into the very depths of New York’s criminal society to try and find out who is killing people and stealing their paintings. There are several more characters that increase the enjoyment of the story. One of them is Esther “Mom” Sheinbaum, a fence who seemingly can find out info on every piece of stolen goods in New York City. She reminds me much of Mrs. Sucksby, from Sarah Waters’ excellent Fingersmith. Sorry to drop so many names into this review, but I love it when an author pays homage to those who have gone before.

The novel has a few flaws (some of which I have communicated privately to the author), but nothing to bring it down to less than a 4.

Note: I read the Advanced Review Copy of this novel which was kindly provided by the publisher through Netgalley in e-book form.

For 200 other Lesbian Mystery reviews by Megan Casey, see her website atchttp://sites.google.com/site/theartofthelesbianmysterynovel/ or join her Goodreads Lesbian Mystery group at http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/116660-lesbian-mysteries

Rachel reviews The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell by William Klaber

Posted on July 18, 2016 by Danika Ellis

LGBT people have existed from the beginning of humanity, although too many historical records prefer to omit this. As a result, many real stories of queer men and women have been lost. William Klaber’s novel, The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell, is a fictional take on the life of a real woman in the 1850s who wore men’s clothes, married another woman, and went by a male identity. (It isn’t completely clear whether Lucy was a lesbian or transgender, but the novel depicts her as a woman.)

The story opens when Lucy, abandoned by her husband, leaves her young daughter in the care of her family, hoping to eventually find a job and a place for the two of them to live. Lucy knows that men have a far easier time finding work, so she cuts her hair and dresses in men’s clothes. This book follows her first twenty years as Joseph Lobdell, from the time she taught a dancing school to meeting and marrying her wife, Marie Perry. An epilogue reveals what became of Lucy, Marie, and Lucy’s daughter Helen after the year 1876.

William Klaber really respects Lucy Lobdell, and it shows in his novel. He makes Lucy so real and believable with the way he describes her thoughts and conflicting emotions, and the details of her surroundings also give her story the feel of a real memoir. The historic aspects of Lucy’s time, such as the outfits the people wore and the laws they followed, are incredibly accurate. Clearly a lot of research was done to make the story authentic.

While Lucy’s story is fascinating, many times it can be very hard to read about the ignorance she faced. The ideas of a woman wearing men’s clothes, posing as a man, and loving another woman were seen as perversions and crimes, leading to imprisonment or lifetime lockups in asylums. In the novel, Lucy does encounter misogynistic people, and their narrow-minded comments and taunts are infuriating. Many of the characters in the story who discover Lucy’s secret react badly, from shunning to outright violence and imprisonment. It is distressing and heart-breaking to read of all the atrocities Lucy is put through, knowing that back then the prejudice was thought to be justified. Her ultimate fate is also very sad; she wanted to live her life in peace, but people’s hatred and ignorance refused to allow it.

The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell is a heavy, often depressing, story, but this is also the account of a queer person’s life, a life that had for a long time been forgotten.

W. Davidson-Rhodes reviews Poppy Jenkins by Clare Ashton

Posted on July 18, 2016 by Danika Ellis

poppy jenkins

[Possible Spoilers Ahead]

I wouldn’t call this a retelling, but Poppy Jenkins is very reminiscent of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. The setting is similar, a small community of good albeit sheltered people. Far from the hustle and bustle of the big city life. I could imagine the quaintness of it all. The way author Clare Ashton describes it, I see the shire in my minds. Old, rustic, charming.

The titular character, Poppy, is Ashton’s Elizabeth Bennett, and her love interest, Roselyn Thorn (I love name puns, by the way) is, in this case, Ms. Darcy. A key difference is that Poppy and Roselyn were childhood friends who had a falling out as teens and reconnect fifteen years later. I love the second chance at love romance trope, which made me excited to read this novel.

The more I read on, the more frustrated I got with the story and Poppy in particular.

Like Fitzwilliam Darcy, Roselyn isn’t thought well of by the small town she lived in. The citizens of Wells found Roselyn (and her parents) to be snobbish interlopers who don’t fit into the the culture of the town. Rosalyn was blamed for a lot juvenile trouble in the town, and was thought of badly by most townspeople–members of Poppy’s family included. I didn’t understand why Poppy was so obtuse as to why Roselyn had such a negative feelings towards Wells. It’s not necessarily a character flaw to call out bullcrap when you see it and to not take actions and people at face value. I understood why Roselyn was reluctant to come out at such a young age and was miffed that Poppy didn’t get it.

Poppy’s entire life, or at least from what we’ve seen on page, has been relatively easy. Everybody loved her, there wasn’t a mean thing to say amongst the townsfolk. For the most part, Poppy being accepted as a lesbian was simple with very minimal negative reactions. She’s never really had to fight for anything and that was made clear in both instances when she just let Roselyn go without much flare. Poppy immediately thought the worst seeing Roselyn with her ex-girlfriend going off into the night. Didn’t go investigate, didn’t go lay claim to the woman she loved. Poppy just went home and had a pity party and at that point I was well and truly done with her.

I don’t want to say I didn’t like Poppy. Her Disney princess schtick was cute at first, but her gullible optimism started to grate. I know what’s it’s like to have pride in my hometown, where no one is allowed to talk bad about it (except me, and others from there). But you can have pride in your town and call out the issues you see in it, not just be willfully ignorant because you don’t like what an ‘outsider’ is saying.

This story dragged on a bit too long. Once the town’s crook got caught and Roselyn made her grand gesture, I just needed that happy ending. I needed Poppy to get off it and see and accept all the good Roselyn did and KISS ALREADY. And by the time I finally got to the end, I just wasn’t as satisfied.

Roselyn lowkey saved the town Poppy loved so much, saved the best friend’s wedding, uprooted her life, altered her career, provided Poppy a stage to expand her cafe business, provided a solid business plan to put roots down and settle, remodeled a house that the two could share together, and Poppy still was mistrustful. But an apology (that personally I don’t think was needed) about a misunderstanding that happened fifteen years ago was what made Poppy take her head out of her behind?

By the end I was left wondering if Poppy Jenkins truly deserved a woman like Roselyn Thorn.

Poppy Jenkins was provided by the author via The Lesbrary for an honest review

Elinor reviews The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters

Posted on July 15, 2016 by Danika Ellis

Set in London after the end of World War I, The Paying Guests is a gorgeous and haunting novel. It begins with Frances Wray, a single woman in her mid-twenties, and her widowed mother waiting for their new lodgers. The loss of Frances’ father and the discovery of his poor financial decisions has reduced the once-wealthy family to a meager existence, with only their beautiful home to sustain them. The lodgers, or paying guests, are Lilian and Leonard, a young married couple coming up in the world at the same time the upper class Wrays are slipping down. Frances’ life is bleak. She’s lost both her brothers in the war along with her own dreams of independence now that she is all her mother has left. A former activist who once hoped to forge her own life with a woman she loved, she spends her days attending to the tedious tasks of managing the household, occasionally visiting her ex (and ex’s new girlfriend), and steeling herself against the disappointment of her life.

To Frances’ surprise, the paying guests bring much more than desperately needed money. Her growing friendship with Lilian and Leonard gives Frances unexpected joy. Then as she and Lilian grow even closer, the possible price of this happiness looms.

The later part of the book centers around a murder investigation that is not a whodunit. Though you the reader know what happened, the motivations of characters become less clear as the police look into the death of a resident of the household. Secrets about the characters come to light, changing what you thought you knew. The investigation raises difficult questions about what is the right thing to do.

I found this book a slow start but absolutely worth the effort. The writing is emotionally evocative, stirring in turns resigned disappointment, desire, joy, horror, and profound uneasiness. The vivid portrait of life in the Wray household is unforgettable without being flashy or fawning. This is an intimate book, revealing the quiet and everyday, which makes the dramatic events grounded and much more disturbing than they might have been in a more sensationalist novel. Though this book is quite long–well over five hundred pages–and not the sort you’d read over a weekend, it’s worth the time. For one thing, you’ll want to savor Waters’ writing and her ability to transport you completely into another time and another life. Reading this is not a frantic rush to figure out what will all happen in the end. It’s about enjoying the journey, one that will stay with you long after you put the book down. Folks looking for a light read won’t find it here but I highly recommend this novel.

Stephanie reviews Blue Talk and Love by Mecca Jamilah Sullivan

Posted on July 14, 2016 by Danika Ellis

Trigger warnings: Rape threats, mild violence, fat-shaming.

As soon as this book was released I knew I had to have it. Stories about Black queer women written by a Black queer woman? Yes, please! I was a little worried that I wouldn’t connect to them; they are all set in and around New York City, a place I’ve only visited once as a kid. It is a testament to Sullivan’s skill and talent that I was immediately drawn into this book. Not only that, her vivid descriptions of various part of New York made me feel as if I were right there with her characters. Indeed, I could smell the smoke and coconut oil in Earnestine’s father’s hair in “Blue Talk and Love,” the second story in the collection. Still, the specificity of the locales might alienate some readers as it draws in others.

The first story in the book, “Wolfpack” is drawn from real-life events: the trial and subsequent conviction of several young Black lesbians charged with stabbing the man who had threatened to rape them. The story begins with a directive: “This is a story that matters, so listen.” Those of us who remember this event are immediately drawn into this story, which retells the events of that summer night from several perspectives. The voice that resonated with me the most was Verniece’s (oddly spelled two different ways in the story). She tells her story with a quiet resolve: her desire to become a mother, her love for her girlfriend of two years, as well as her constant battles with her mother over her sexual orientation. “Wolfpack” is heartbreaking as well as anger inducing. Black lesbians are all too familiar with how attempts to protect ourselves from harm are often met with backlash. The judge that sentences these women suggests that they should have ignored the “I’ll fuck you straight,” as if those words didn’t imply an impending action. Sullivan does a wonderful job of transporting us back in time to that summer night, and in doing so, begs the question, what right do Black lesbians have to defend themselves from bodily harm?

Another favorite is “A Magic of Bags.” Sullivan transports us to a starkly different section of New York, that of the upper-middle class world of the Harlem Grange Homeowners’ Council, where “Most of the Grange’s young people spent their free time hopping subway turnstiles on the way home from their private schools, smoking looses in Riverside Park in feeble defiance of authority, plotting futures with one-another, most of which ended with masters’ degrees from MIT and expensive wedding receptions in opulent hotels downtown.” The story’s protagonist, Ilana, is alienated from this world, even her mother tries her best to maintain her place in it. Ilana is large and strange (she carries a bag of broken baby dolls wherever she goes), and sees herself as gifted, although it is not altogether clear the specific nature of her gifts. The story meanders a bit, as Ilana’s main purpose is to cause trouble for folks that she sees as victims of “horizontal thought.” This includes her mother, the women in the neighborhood, and her one friend, DeShawn. Still, Ilana’s keen observations on the trappings of domesticity and upper middle-class Black life are what make this story so interesting. I was a bit disappointed in the ending, as I feel that Sullivan might have missed an opportunity to push Ilana out of her comfort zone.

Other stories in the collection include “Saturday,” where eight year-old Malaya is forced to attend a weight loss support group with her mother because she has fallen off of the program wagon. Malaya daydreams of French fries and eats cold Chinese food in her room at night, yet often dreams of one day waking up “with a lightness and a spring.” Me-Millie and Me-Christine are the conjoined twins in “A Strange People,” sisters searching for a show that will accept them after their former slave-owner dies. The story offers keen observations on race, (dis)ability, performance, and desire in the 19th century.

Most of the stories in this collection focus on Black and brown bodies, queer in their sexual orientation, size, ability, and often a combination of all three. Sullivan reminds us that fat queer bodies are often the objects of ridicule and pain, but that they also are sites for joy and self-acceptance. We want, no NEED more from this writer.

Julie Thompson reviews Roller Girl (A Lake Lovelace novel) by Vanessa North

Posted on July 12, 2016 by Danika Ellis

Riptide Publishing
Release date: July 25, 2016

Roller Girl is the third installment of Vanessa North’s “Lake Lovelace” series. It stars Tina Durham, a retired pro wake boarder, who finds herself at a crossroads in her life. One of her main concerns is relying on other people too much. After her divorce (which happens before the novel begins), she reflects on how her ex-wife had taken care of most of the day-to-day maintenance of the house, as well as other tasks. Tina asks herself throughout the story if she can take care of herself. Where is the line between asking for help and over relying on other people to solve her problems? Late one night, her washing machine goes on the fritz.

Enter Joanne “Joe Mama” Delario, coach of the local women’s roller derby team and plumber extraordinaire. It’s lust at first sight, though Joe also sizes Tina up as a perfect addition to the derby team. The two women hit it off and meet up for a casual date soon after. It’s Tina’s first foray into the dating world after her divorce and since she began publicly living as a woman.

When Tina shares her identity as trans woman on the first date, Joe isn’t fazed. The major kink in their relationship has nothing to do with Tina’s gender identity. Rather, it centers on whether or not the two of them dating will wedge the roller derby team apart. The last thing Tina wants is for her potential teammates to think that she was awarded special privileges by hooking up with the coach. She’s a professional athlete and prides herself on her hard work and skill. Support comes from all corners – her friends and their partners, Ben and Davis, Eddie and Wish; roller derby teammates; her boss and clients; and local media. Tina experiences a lot of game changing moments in her life over a short period of time, but the author does a good job of weaving them towards a satisfying conclusion.

The author makes sure that her leading lady experiences everything from the tremulous nerves of a first date to heart pounding sweaty sex to the ultimate question of what does this relationship mean to you and do we have a future? Tina doesn’t have “fade to black” or “the door slowly closes” sex. The bedroom scenes are respectful, but not to the extent that the women are held with kid gloves. Both women’s bodies are a beautiful tangle of limbs and pleasure, not objects of revulsion or something to be fetishized.

The Lake Lovelace Rollergirls give Tina an outlet for her competitive drive, as well as a chance to make new friends and join in a sisterhood of strong women. It’s been awhile since she’s participated in anything athletic outside of the small gym where she works as a personal trainer. The team interactions as the women gear up for practice, tryouts, and bouts, are fun, with a fair amount of mental and physical bruises. Tina comes up with a saucy, meaningful derby moniker, but I’ll leave that as a surprise.

Roller Derby is the first lesbian romance I’ve read that stars a transgender woman. It also features one of my favorite sports, roller derby. These women are hell on wheels, but are ultimately a welcoming and supportive bunch. The novel paints an overall positive picture for Tina, though there are enough hurdles in her path to cause interesting drama. If you’ve read lesbian novels with trans women as protagonists, please let me know in the comments section below!

The Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA) has a gender statement on its website. It’s an inclusive organization where all are welcome. Go derby!

Women’s Flat Track Derby Association: https://wftda.com/wftda-gender-statement

Danika reviews Marian by Ella Lyons

Posted on July 11, 2016 by Danika Ellis

How’s this for an elevator pitch?: Lesbian YA Robin Hood retelling. If you’re anything like me, that immediately added Marian by Ella Lyons to your TBR. There’s just one problem: that’s not exactly what Marian is.

This novella (135 pages) follows Marian, a daughter of a knight, who finds herself thrust out of her country home into the opulent castle of the king. She feels completely out of place attending balls and taking embroidery lessons, until she meets Robin Hood: a small, redheaded girl with a big personality.

This is cute lesbian historical fiction, but other than the names, it doesn’t have much to do with Robin Hood. She learns archery, but she’s trying to become a knight. And there’s no sense of mystery or disguise about that: her given name is Robin Hood, and she’s openly trying to be a knight as a woman. I feel like there were a lot of missed opportunities for shenanigans. There’s a Little John, but there’s no merry band of any gender. Robin doesn’t even steal from the rich and give to the poor, though Marian does a little bit of that.

I think that there were two ways that this book could have succeeded. One is if it didn’t bill itself as a Robin Hood retelling. It’s a good story! It’s bittersweet and deals with court politics, and I enjoyed Marian learning her way to scheme and use gossip/contacts to survive and even flourish in a restrictive environment. The romance between Robin and Marian is heartwarming, and their personalities are vibrant. I liked seeing Marian mature and make sacrifices while still remaining true to herself. But because I was expecting Robin Hood, I was always impatient for the “real” book to start. I wanted hijinks and medieval heists. I wanted Robin competing in the trials in disguise, and pulling off her hood theatrically to reveal herself as a woman when she won. I wanted a queer merry band! Those things are not present.

The other way I would’ve enjoyed this story more is if it were a prequel. It’s fairly common now for successful YA series to have ebook-only novellas to fill in backstory and offer bonus material, and this reminds me of one of those. It feels like the origin story of Marian and Robin Hood, not the story itself.

I would blame myself for having the wrong expectations for this book, but it does bill itself as “lesbian Robin Hood”. This isn’t a bad novella, but calling it lesbian Robin Hood and referencing that story didn’t do this story any favours.

Aoife reviews Training Ground by Kate Christie

Posted on July 8, 2016 by Danika Ellis

I was not, unfortunately, super into this book. Training Ground is the first book in the Girls of Summer series by Kate Christie, and to be honest, it reads more like a prequel – the whole book is just backstory for book 2. She categorises TG as a ‘contemporary lesfic with a romantic arc, but not a traditional romance’, and that seems accurate for what I know about the rest of the series, but the first book falls into YA for me – it’s about queer teenagers growing up and having messy teenage romances. Also sport.

The book follows two young girls who meet ‘by chance’ at a hotel after a soccer tournament. It’s a classic YA set-up: girl meets girl, they share a mutual attraction, one has a boyfriend and secret crushes on girls, the other has a Dark Secret. No one has ever understood Jamie/Emma like Emma/Jamie understands Jamie/Emma, and they share so many interests – including a secret love of some cooking show. Over time, they become close enough for Jamie to share the story of her trauma, and they become best friends and possibly more. They are each other’s anchors, and Emma buys Jamie a bracelet with an anchor on it to prove it.

Unfortunately, the book falls into a common YA trap: Too Much Angst. Jamie has a lot of (very valid) angst surrounding her trauma, Emma has a rocky relationship with her dad and a lot of angst about liking girls as well as guys, both girls have a lot of angst about liking the other, and after becoming even closer after Tragedy strikes, the relationship falls apart. This was annoying because not only were Jamie and Emma genuinely adorable together, the disintegration of the relationship was both predictable and so easily fixable. Obviously they had to move away from each other for the storyline in the next book to work, but I feel like it didn’t have to go quite the way it did for what will obviously be a dramatic meeting and falling in love ten years after the events of Training Ground.

A lot of this book didn’t ring true with me. I’ve long accepted that while some things in life are universal, American high school isn’t one of those things, but in regards to the things I can comment on, the writing missed the mark. The dialogue, with a few surprisingly funny exceptions, didn’t seem very natural to me, and though the writing was okay, I felt that it leaned a little too heavily on clichés about teenagers. I have no idea how realistic the soccer bits are, being allergic to sports – but hey, Jamie and Emma are cute together, and I’m a big fan of Jamie’s therapist, Shoshanna.

(My biggest problem with this book – which 2003 do you know where teens vape??? It is not a 2003 I have lived in.)

Despite my review of this book, I’d consider picking up a copy of Game Time when it’s released in spring (autumn for you northern-hemisphere folk) this year, because I’m hopeful that Christie will be on firmer ground with not-teenagers. And I mean, who doesn’t want to read a romance about two pro soccer players?

TW for rape/sexual assault, homophobia and transphobia.

Link Round Up: June 20 – July 3

Posted on July 3, 2016 by Danika Ellis

ALA GLBT Reviews posted Under an Eastern Moon: Writing LGBT China.

Autostraddle posted Lez Liberty Lit #100: One Hundred Bookshelves Full of Queer Lit.

Gay YA posted

LGBTQ Reads posted TBRainbow Alert #2.

“22 of Our Most Anticipated LGBTQ YA Books of the Second Half of 2016” was posted at Barnes & Noble Teen.

“The 15 Best LGBT YA Books of 2016 (So Far)” was posted at Bookish.

“Bookish and Proud: Literary LGBT Pride Month Flag” was posted at Bookish.

“(Lesfic) Books as Comfort Food & Security Blankets” was posted at Omnivore Bibliosaur.

Lesbian Decadence: Representations in Art and Literature in Fin-De-Siecle France by Nicole G. Albert was reviewed at Lambda Literary.

Poppy Jenkins by Clare Ashton was reviewed at Lesbian Reading Room.

Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit by Jaye Robin Brown was reviewed at AfterEllen.

Look Both Ways by Alison Cherry was reviewed at Queer Lit On My Mind.

All Inclusive by Farzana Doctor was reviewed by Casey the Canadian Lesbrarian.

Read Me Like a Book by Liz Kessler was reviewed at Queer Lit On My Mind.

Walking the Dog by Elizabeth Swados 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.

Thank you to the Lesbrary’s Patreon supporters! Special thanks to Martha Hansen, Emily Perper, Kath, and Karen. Support the Lesbrary on Patreon at $2 or more a month and be entered to win a lesbian/queer women book every month!

Shira Glassman reviews Drag Prince Charming by BA Huntley

Posted on July 3, 2016 by Danika Ellis

The pitch for Drag Prince Charming by BA Huntley: conflict-averse lesbian takes her girlfriend’s drag persona to meet Mom to avoid homophobic drama. The execution wound up being pretty cute and low-stress. Push past the slightly awkward, narrated beginning to get to some chemistry that really flows, both between the protagonist and her flock of sisters, and between the protagonist and her love interest. I read a ton of romance and it’s made me fairly picky about how well the couple ‘clicks’–this one passes the click test for me.

And urgh, I don’t know if this is appropriate for a lesbian romance review, but I’m bi, and the love interest’s entrance in male drag was thud-swoonworthy for me. “Mateo” isn’t just male-presenting but suave, seductive, and swanning around in a fancy suit. Bear in mind that this is a lesbian romance that includes a woman who plays with gender presentation, not a trans m/cis f romance, but the scenes with Renata presenting male–including packing–totally made my Cis Wife bells ring.

A sample of the sisters’ banter:

“It’ll kill Mom,” Emma groaned. “We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Come on, we never hear the end of anything,” Charlotte reminded her.

There’s an adorable old lady living next door, too. I like all of these characters and I was happy to spend the story’s short span of time with them.

By the way, this is one of those elusive “chubby main character who doesn’t lose weight” f/f stories people have been looking for. That was cool!

The Lesbrary

Lesbian and Bi Book News and Reviews

Month: July 2016