Tag Archives: Sapphic

A Small-Town Coming Out Story: Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream by Tehlor Kay Mejia

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Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream cover

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[A quick note on spoilers: If you want to get very technical, this entire review is a spoiler. Seriously, if the mere mention of the word “spoilers” makes your skin crawl, here’s the short version of this review: Go read Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream. That said, if you’ve read a decent number of sapphic romances, you know all the tropes. Knowing the tropes makes a fair amount of potential spoilers moot. To me, that’s part of the fun—we know what will ultimately happen, but it’s the getting there that makes it so interesting. Anyway, read on at your own peril.]

A couple of weeks ago, I finally gave in—I downloaded TikTok onto my iPad. Not to yuck anyone’s yum, but I’m just not a fan of the app. Or, all told, the entire concept of the thing. At the same time, if I’m so interested in the discourse, I might as well go from whence the discourse came rather than continuing to wait for it as secondhand news. 

(If you think I’m going to say something about BookTok next, guess again.)

As I learned almost immediately, everyone is beholden to the great TikTok algorithm. Within mere days, I had been pigeonholed into a handful of very specific topics. One of these very specific topics, which is how we get to Tehlor Kay Mejia’s new novel Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream, is the “Later in Life Lesbian.” Now, for those of you following along at home, as a trans woman who came out later in life, I do technically belong in this category. But that isn’t the point here (nor is the point that “sapphic” is a much more inclusive term than “lesbian”); the point is that between TikTok and Cash Delgado, I’m noticing that this very specific topic has become a more prominent point of conversation and a go-to trope in many of the romance novels that I’ve read lately.

In fact, Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream isn’t even the first novel I’ve discussed here that follows the “later in life lesbian” trope: Ashley Herring Blake’s Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail treads some of the same ground. I really liked that book, and I really liked Cash Delgado as well. 

Single mother Cash Delgado manages a small bar in a small town. Inez, her best friend— what’s that, you say? Cash is going to realize that she loves Inez, who also happens to love Cash? How ever did you know?!? 

Again, even though the destination is nothing short of completely obvious, it’s a good writer who makes the journey enjoyable. For me in particular, when that enjoyable journey involves a single parent/child situation, I’m even more impressed. Mejia manages to balance the small-town setting, the central trope, and the parent/child situation, which is enough to enthusiastically recommend Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream. But wait, there’s more… 

Perhaps it’s because we’re in the summer of Chappell Roan, but lately it’s felt like there’s an ever-so-small possibility that we’re almost getting ready to be able to have a nuanced conversation about women and sexuality that doesn’t eventually descend into some form of biphobia or other exclusionary discourse. In the beginning of this novel, Cash finds herself hooking up with a guy with whom she’s had a previous relationship. The fact that this guy is the living embodiment of the mistake everyone has in their past becomes clear immediately, and he is a mere twirled-mustache away from being the most stereotypical villain who ever lived. And, sure, Chase is in town to bring an obnoxious chain bar/restaurant into Ridley Falls, which will destroy the scrappy establishment where he used to work and that Cash now manages. That complication is what the plot of the novel hangs on, yes, but the spirit of the novel is propelled forward more so by the fact that the words that best describe Chase are words that end in -phobic.

Because it’s difficult enough for Cash to figure out how she feels about Inez and what that says about her sexuality and her larger identity as a person. If it wasn’t difficult, there wouldn’t be an entire corner of TikTok devoted to it. (There would be so many more videos about make-up in my feed.) “Am I a lesbian?” “Am I bisexual?” “Am I a straight woman who happens to really really like this one woman?” All are legitimate possibilities for Cash (and lots of other women), but these questions wouldn’t matter nearly as much if people like Chase could just be cool for once in their entire lives.

Cash Delgado Is Living the Dream is an extremely fun read that brushes up against some of these questions of cisheteropatriarchy, straight culture, and cultural bereavement as it relates to realizing something significant about your sexuality later in life. If you’re not interested in that particular discourse, don’t worry! You can just boo along with everyone else about how Chase is the literal worst and cheer along about how Parker, Cash’s daughter, is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine. If this discourse is something that you’ve followed or taken part in, then there’s a lot in both Cash’s journey and Inez’s reactions to that journey for you to dig into.

Liv (she/her) is a trans woman, a professor of English, and a reluctant Southerner. Described (charitably) as passionate and strong-willed, she loves to talk (and talk) about popular culture, queer theory, utopias, time travel, and any other topic that she has magpied over the years. You can find her on storygraph and letterboxd @livvalentine.

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 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 Lavender Haze Love Story: Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

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Late Bloomer cover

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“I wish I could say it gets better, but it only gets worse.”

“Nothing says love like Taylor Swift.”

There is a lot to like about Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings, but these two lines are what made the book stand out for me. In context, the first line is spoken by one main character, who is 26, to the other, who is 24. Later on, when Opal, the 24-year-old, says the line about Taylor Swift, Pepper replies, “Aren’t a lot of her songs about heartbreak?”

“Absolutely do not get me started,” is both Opal’s retort and what I would say in response to someone bringing up either of these topics. I have a lot of thoughts on these topics, and that is certainly part of what made me enjoy Late Bloomer so much.

Late Bloomer is set outside of Asheville, North Carolina, on a flower farm named Thistle and Bloom. Opal wins the lottery, buys the farm, moves from Charlotte to Asheville, and discovers that her new home is very much still occupied by Pepper. As it turns out, Pepper has had the farm sold out from under her by her ne’er do well mother because of something something probate. Hijinks ensue. There are two ways to approach the setting and exposition of Late Bloomer: 1) If you love flowers and/or Asheville, then you’re going to love the entire backdrop of this book. 2) If those things do not matter to you as much, throwing Opal and Pepper together in a house without “adult supervision” is more than enough to drive the story forward. 

So about that 26-year-old giving sage advice to a 24-year-old… truthfully, it was not my favorite. Have I once upon a time said something similar in a similar situation? Probably more than once. It’s the kind of thing that isn’t meant to be overheard by someone who wasn’t entirely sure if their back was going to cooperate this morning. That’s okay, though. More importantly, this interaction made me realize something: I think Late Bloomer is the first romance I’ve read where both characters are Gen Z. I’ve read plenty of books with Millennial/Millennial pairings as well as Gen X/Millennial and Millennial/Gen Z pairings, but I think this is the first Gen Z/Gen Z romance. 

To be clear, this is a good thing. No one in this book owns a coffee shop (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), and neither main character is remotely close to having children—or having their life together, for that matter. Pepper is autistic, and Opal has ADHD. (Unless she’s also autistic. Opal tells Pepper that, because medical tests are expensive and there’s a lot of overlap between the two, that she didn’t bother getting a diagnosis. Again, no one owns a coffee shop.) These two characters allow Eddings to talk about ADHD and autism in ways that I don’t often see from Gen Xers or Millennials. Eddings’s characters felt more real to me than many of the characters I’ve read in other romances lately. If someone told me that people like these characters existed in real life, I would definitely believe it. And while I know that romance is not the best place to go for realism, it works in Late Bloomer. 

Also, there’s a flower sculpture contest, so it’s not like I’m saying the book is bereft of whimsy.

Speaking of which, what’s up with the number of romances out there that invoke Taylor Swift’s name? Not just the first and last name—it’s important that Alison makes it onto the page as well. Swift’s middle name has somehow become the vehicle by which someone can emphasize just how powerful Swift truly is. (I’m certainly not denying that; shortly after the release of folklore in 2020, I began referring to her as “the bard.”) And the Swift references as book titles! In just the past two months, I’ve read Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend by Emma Alban and How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly. Eddings gets in on the fun as well, which readers discover as part of the author’s note in Late Bloomer. I’ll admit that my favorite part of the book is probably “Anatomy of a Title,” in which Eddings reveals that one of the possible titles for Late Bloomer was—you guessed it… 

“Lavender Haze.”

I really needed to get that whole Taylor Swift thing off my chest. More importantly, the insight that Eddings provided into that part of the writing process was a treat.

What I’m trying to say is that Late Bloomer has a lot of depth to it. I like the stories that follow tropes in a way that is predictable and comforting, yes, but it is also fun when an author adds something that I don’t come across that often. Or, in the case of the bard, something I see a lot of but approached in a way that’s different and makes me laugh. Late Bloomer is an easy recommend, and—if it matters to you one way or the other—it’s also one of spicier romances that I’ve read this year. 

Liv (she/her) is a trans woman, a professor of English, and a reluctant Southerner. Described (charitably) as passionate and strong-willed, she loves to talk (and talk) about popular culture, queer theory, utopias, time travel, and any other topic that she has magpied over the years. You can find her on storygraph and letterboxd @livvalentine.

Grumpy/Sunshine Behind the Bar: In Walked Trouble by Dana Hawkins

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In Walked Trouble by Dana Hawkins cover

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In Walked Trouble, Dana Hawkins’s newest novel, takes us away from the coffee shop of Not in the Plan and into Nueve’s, a Puerto Rican bar and restaurant that should totally exist. (Has anyone else noticed just how many great concepts for restaurants, bars, coffee shops, bookstores, films, TV series, etc. that exist in romance novels?) Remi James is briefly introduced in Not in the Plan, but all anyone really needs to know about this character becomes clear in the first chapter of In Walked Trouble—Remi is definitely on the surly side of the personality spectrum. 

A grump, if you will.

Despite her grumpy nature, everything seems to be coming up Remi: her boss has called her in to discuss what must be the promotion that she so rightly deserves. Having grown up in the foster system, Remi is obsessed with the idea that a house will make a home for her, but she needs more money for a downpayment. Money she will earn when she finally gets that promotion to head bartender. Which is why she’s so angry when she discovers that her boss has brought in Maya to co-bartend with Remi. No promotion, no raise. Remi’s attraction to Maya is immediately replaced with anger. (“Replaced” is a strong word—let’s say “supplemented by” instead.) To make matters worse, the money that would have gone into that raise is now being offered as a bonus. May the best bartender win.

Remi thinks that this will be no problem because of how fast and efficient she is. What she doesn’t know is that Maya tosses bottles, which tends to make a bartender very popular very quickly. Maya, according to Remi, is “ready for a runway.” And she smiles too much.

Is there a better trope than grumpy/sunshine? Don’t bother answering that question—there isn’t.

Maya also needs that bonus to afford her master’s in nursing, a degree she’s pursuing in part because of her sister, who has type 1 diabetes. She is also grieving her father’s sudden death nine years earlier. As I’ve written many times before, I appreciate when a romance novel focuses on the trauma of the main character (or, in this case, both main characters). While two characters can’t fix the trauma that the other faces, they can listen, be supportive, and offer help when appropriate. Sure, the other stuff is pretty good as well, but I really enjoy this element of Remi and Maya’s relationship.  

What other stuff? Well, if asked, I would point to a scene that involves mop water, ice cubes, a lemon slice, and dueling soda guns.

I could probably end this review here, right?

Back to trauma for a moment. If you’re the kind of romance reader who prefers the “don’t bore us, get to the chorus” approach, In Walked Trouble is probably not for you. Yes, there is instant chemistry between Remi and Maya, but the movement on that attraction only occurs after they actually get to know each other. Fine… there is also a lot of alcohol. But even that isn’t what you think it is. Hawkins puts together a narrative where it is not entirely clear whether the physical intimacy came before the emotional intimacy or vice versa. That sentence felt cringey as I wrote, but I’m sticking with it because of how strongly I value the whole “talking about feelings” thing. We know that it isn’t exactly easy to open up to other people in a genuine way, and I can’t help but think stories like this one model a better approach.

Hawkins does reinforce a few other concepts in In Walked Trouble, including one of my favorites: coming up with really bad excuses to be somewhere or to do something for someone. Because sometimes you’re not ready to talk about your feelings with someone, but you still want that someone to know that eventually you might want to. The really bad excuse approach to getting to know someone never gets old.

Neither does grumpy/sunshine.

(One more thing: I had no intention of comparing In Walked Trouble to a film like I did last month in my review of Cover Story… but then I read someone comparing In Walked Trouble to the 1988 Tom Cruise movie Cocktail. You know, the movie they show clips of during the “Kokomo” music video? And, okay, yes, Maya does toss bottles like Tom Cruise’s character. That is, and I cannot stress this enough, the only connection between this book and that movie. Seriously, don’t watch Cocktail thinking it’s a romcom. Watch it because a) it won the Golden Raspberry for Worst Movie and b) it goes way darker than any movie whose soundtrack features “Kokomo” has a right to do.)

Liv (she/her) is a trans woman, a professor of English, and a reluctant Southerner. Described (charitably) as passionate and strong-willed, she loves to talk (and talk) about popular culture, queer theory, utopias, time travel, and any other topic that she has magpied over the years. You can find her on storygraph and letterboxd @livvalentine.

Making The Future Gay: The Five Things I Checked out From the Queer Liberation Library

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Recently, a nonprofit in Massachusetts put out an exclusively queer book collection on Libby called the Queer Liberation Library (also known as QLL). Their mission is simple: by providing queer people with diversity-focused literature and resources, QLL is building a future that is undeniably queer. This collection of e-materials is available to anyone with an email address, and sign-up is very easy. I signed up and had received confirmation and account information within twelve (12) hours. There are so many titles and collections available, with the focus of their homepage collections being on Black queerness right now in celebration of Black History Month. I would highly recommend signing up for a card if you want exclusively queer literature available at your fingertips. 

Of course, I went a little wild and immediately began downloading so many sapphic titles on the QLL. Here are five things that I checked out from the Queer Liberation Library that I think you should too:

Those Who Wait by Haley Cass

the cover of Those Who Wait

Sutton had a simple plan for her life: finish graduate school and fall in love. But life is never that simple, and it doesn’t help that she is useless around other women. On the other hand, Charlotte has every bit of her life planned out and is not willing to compromise it for love. When the two meet through a dating app, Sutton and Charlotte know they aren’t meant to be—or are they? I picked up this audiobook because of the cute cover and stayed for the slow-burn, friends-with-benefits romance. Don’t let the length of the book (21ish hours) intimidate you: Those Who Wait is a fast-paced epic romance sure to make your top ten books of 2024.

Sing Anyways by Anita Kelly

the cover of Sing Anyway

Nonbinary history professor Sam Bell is committed to a new (non)romantic strategy after numerous failed relationships: Thirst Only. However, having no emotional ties to relationships can be hard, especially when they are left by themselves at The Moonlight Café, otherwise known as Moonie’s to its largely queer regulars, and on karaoke night of all nights. But then Sam’s karaoke crush, Lily Fischer, steps up with a mic, and the two work together to weather the outside world and to keep singing through it all. I read this back during the summer and I remember being actively disappointed that there was no audiobook that I could listen to through my library—never again!

Mimosa by Archie Bongiovanni

the cover of Mimosa

Best friends and chosen family Chris, Elise, Jo, and Alex work hard to keep themselves afloat. In an effort to avoid being the oldest gays at the party, the crew decides to put on a new queer event called Grind—specifically for homos in their dirty 30s. Grind is a welcome distraction from their real lives while navigating exes at work, physical and mental exhaustion, and drinking way, way too much on weekdays. This chosen family proves that being messy doesn’t always go away with age. I love Bongiovanni’s art style and can’t wait to sink my teeth into this story about older queer people (which I am swiftly approaching with mild disbelief).

Mouths of Rain: An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought edited by Briona Simone Jones

the cover of Mouths of Rain

Mouths of Rain traces the long history of intellectual thought produced by Black Lesbian writers, spanning the nineteenth century through the twenty-first century.

This anthology features a mix of literature (nonfiction, poetry, and fiction) about a variety of topics from a variety of Black sapphic authors like Audre Lorde and Alice Dunbar-Nelson. 

Mouths of Rain first caught my attention because of the gorgeous cover, but kept me enthralled by the sheer intersectionality of the work. 

Lesbian Love Story by Amelia Possanza

the cover of Lesbian Love Story

This is the story of Possanza’s journey into the archives to recover the stories of lesbians in the 20th Century: who they were, how they loved, why their stories were destroyed, and where their memories echo and live on. Centered around seven love stories for the ages, Possanza’s hunt takes readers from a Drag King show in Bushwick to the home of activists in Harlem and then across the ocean to Hadrian’s Library, where she searches for traces of Sappho in the ruins. Along the way, she discovers her own love—for swimming, for community, for New York City—and adds her own record to the archive. I am not the biggest fan of nonfiction (regardless of how many nonfiction titles are on this list), but loved how Possanza would switch genres and use the histories to discuss questions of gender, love, and self. 

Bonus: Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H

the cover of Hijab Butch Blues

Bonus pick because I got very attached to all of these choices: Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H! When fourteen-year-old Lamya H realizes she has a crush on her teacher—her female teacher—she covers up her attraction, an attraction she can’t yet name, by playing up her roles as overachiever and class clown. However, Lamya eventually begins to make sense of her own life by comparing her experiences to the stories of the Quran, and expands on those thoughts in this searing memoir in essays. This is a title that so many of my friends have been reading lately and I am excited to join them once my audiobook hold comes in!

Happy reading!

Chloe (they/he) is a public librarian in Baltimore, who identifies as Indigenous, autistic, and panromantic demisexual. They enjoy reading queer literature for any age group, as well as fantasy, contemporary, and romance. In his spare time, he acts in his local community theaters and plays role-playing games. You can find them on Goodreads, Twitter, or Instagram.

F/F Jamaican-Inspired YA Fantasy with Dragons: So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole

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the cover of So Let Them Burn

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Any other Eragon girlies out there? Check out So Let Them Burn, a Jamaican-inspired F/F young adult fantasy that delivered from beginning to end! This moving and action-packed debut has made me a Kamilah Cole fangirl and I can’t wait for the second book in the duology!

This book switches between the POVs of two sisters Faron and Elara Vincent. Faron can channel the power of the gods, which made her the secret weapon of her country’s revolution against the dragon-riding Langley Empire. Faron is fiery, mischievous, and unwilling to play the part of wise and composed chosen-one. Elara is calm, diplomatic, and has felt like she’s been both living in her sister’s shadow while also being charged with “managing” Faron’s hot-headed emotions. At what was supposed to be an international peace summit, Elara ends up bonding with a Langley Empire dragon and the dragon’s other rider, Signey. Elara must then go to the dragon riding academy on enemy ground, both as a spy for her country and to try to figure out if there’s a way to reverse the bond so she can return home to sister. Among battles of gods and dragons, bubbling rage (against colonizers, the gods, the situation), and impossible choices, Elara and Signey find themselves falling for each other. Two badass dragon riders discovering enemy secrets, plotting revenge, and falling in love?! Yes please.

There are so many things that I love about this book. First off, I am a sucker for dragons. I appreciated the world building and how the dragons and bonded riders can all communicate with each other telepathically. They become their own unique family, in tune with each other’s emotions and thoughts. 

I also liked the focus on friend relationships. Especially in a moment when the romantasy genre is taking off, I appreciated how in this book, the friendships were treated as equally important relationships. The sapphic romance plot line was wonderful, but one of my favorite relationships in the book was the deeply honest and vulnerable friendship between Elara and her best friend, Reed. Reed has his own role to play in the book, as the son of the Langley Empire’s leader whose betrayal of his family in the war was key to shifting the tide and winning the revolution. Both Elara and Reed often feel misunderstood by the rest of their country—Elara as merely Faron’s sister and Reed as an outsider—but they see and support each other even when others don’t. Their relationship is refreshingly never romantic while being so important to both of them. 

Lastly, I loved how Cole normalizes queerness. There is great queer representation in this book, including lesbian, bisexual, and demisexual rep, but their queer identities were not the defining elements of the characters. I love how queerness was beautifully everywhere in this book while also not being the focus. Elara isn’t written as a GAY DRAGON RIDER, but rather just an incredible dragon rider—oh, and she happens to fall in love with a woman. 

I highly recommend you check this one out!  

Content Warnings: explicit language, depictions of PTSD (nightmares, unwanted memories/flashbacks, dissociation, anxiety, mistrust, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior), explicit descriptions of war, blood, and corpses, grief (expressed in healthy and unhealthy ways), racism (challenged), minor character deaths, a near-fatal beating, and stolen body/mind autonomy.

Mental Illness, Diaspora, and Eldritch Horror: Where Black Stars Rise by Nadia Shammas and Marie Enger

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the cover of Where Black Stars Rise

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Dr. Amal Robardin, a sapphic Lebanese immigrant who just started working as a therapist, finds herself deeply concerned after the mysterious disappearance of her very first client, Yasmin, a young woman from Iran who has been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Amal feels a responsibility to Yasmin, not only as her therapist but as a fellow Middle Eastern woman trying to find her footing in a new country, far from her family, and where it’s difficult to build a support system. Using the information that Yasmin shared during their therapy sessions, Amal follows these clues to retrace her patient’s steps. When she accidentally falls into an alternate dimension of eldritch horror, she must find her way through the confusion and chaos of this new world to save Yasmin—and herself.

There is, sadly, a tendency in horror for authors and scriptwriters to misappropriate mental illness or use it as a convenient—yet harmful—plot device. Where Black Stars Rise stands out because of its particularly raw, honest, and vulnerable narrative voice. Stories that are centered around mental illness will always be quite heavy, and while this book is no exception, it addresses the topic with such beautiful nuance and even a tinge of heart-breaking hope. Enger, who also has schizophrenia, brought a sense of themself into the characters as well as the captivating world building, all of which made for an extremely emotional reading experience.

Indeed, the design of the alternate world, “Carcosa”, is some of the most harrowing yet stunning art I have ever come across in a graphic novel. Tied in with the character design with which I am deeply obsessed, this book made me an instant fan of Enger’s amazing talent.

Another one of my favourite elements of this story were the conversations that the characters had with regards to family and culture, and how they affect the ways in which we view and understand our mental health. I felt a very personal connection to the characters, especially Amal. Her relationship with her parents is quite complex and nuanced, and while she has a lot of love for her family, she also feels a distance between them because of her queerness and her career choices. This distance is in turn amplified by her reluctance to return and visit them in Lebanon. I so appreciate Shammas and her talent as a writer, and once again, I felt as though she had put a piece of herself into these characters. Being Palestinian-American, it’s clear that the topic of diaspora and having a life and family that is split between the Middle East and the United States was an element of the story that was very personal to her, and it elevated the book that much more.

By the end of this, my jaw was dropped, and tears were freely flowing down my face. As much as it broke me, I loved following these characters through their different, yet intertwined journeys. Shammas and Enger built a truly memorable story, with one of my favourite quotes of all time:

“Most of all? I love that in horror, our storytellers are always right. They’re never believed, they’re cast aside and undermined and left to face the cosmic cruelty alone. But they weren’t wrong. And the readers, the audience? We bear witness to them. We listen, and by merit of their narrative or performance, we believe them in that short burst of time. I want to write that feeling into being. I want to be believed.”

Fans of horror will understand the power of this passage, and readers of all kinds will be able to appreciate the overall chaotic beauty of this wonderful graphic novel.

Representation: Lebanese sapphic main character, Iranian main character with schizophrenia, Black sapphic love interest

Content warnings: mental illness, schizophrenia/psychosis, body horror, blood, gore, suicidal thoughts

Healing in Queer Community: Old Enough by Haley Jakobson 

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Thank you to PENGUIN GROUP Dutton and Netgalley for this E-ARC in exchange for an honest review. (Published June 20, 2023)

I’ve followed Haley Jakobson’s social media for a while, so I was thrilled to hear news of her debut novel. And let me say, it did not disappoint! 

Old Enough follows our main character Savannah (Sav, for short) in two timelines: The present timeline focuses on Savannah in college during her semester in a Women and Gender Studies course. In another, we flashback to high school Savannah’s point of view. Throughout the novel, we learn the circumstances surrounding a traumatic event she experienced during high school and her subsequent social and emotional fallout. Chapter by chapter, readers witness Savannah’s healing journey as she confronts the past, cultivates new friendships, and exercises her autonomy. 

There are several key takeaways from this novel: 

Jakobson impressively deconstructs cultural norms surrounding “forever friendships” and the sunk-cost mindset of holding on for history’s sake. Additionally, we are introduced to a distinct cast of characters that become Sav’s safe place to land amidst the tumult of growing pains. There are knockout conversations on justice versus healing, plus beautiful depictions of a joyful queer community as Sav explores her bisexuality. 

This is a mature, new-adult coming of age story that covers a lot of ground, and it does so with vulnerability and precision. Old Enough is Savannah’s story, but it’s a story that will resonate with so many. (I highly recommend listening to Haley Jakobson’s episode on the “Sad Girls Who Read” podcast after finishing the book!)

FINAL NOTE: I would encourage readers to check content warnings, because there were several heavy topics addressed throughout the novel including (but not limited to): sexual assault, transphobia, and alcohol use.

#SapphicSoccerStoryGoals: You Don’t Have a Shot by Racquel Marie

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the cover of You Don't Have a Shot

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You Don’t Have A Shot is sapphic soccer-rivals-to-lovers perfection set in present-day Southern California. If you’re still mourning the fact that the Women’s World Cup is over or you agree that “fútbol is life” a la Danny Rojas from Ted Lasso (but with a queer Latina twist), this book is for you!

In this heartwarming YA novel, Racquel Marie (she/her) introduces readers to Valentina “Vale” Castillo-Green, who is half Colombian, half Irish, and all about soccer. At the outset of the novel, we learn that Vale’s dream of playing college soccer has just imploded after her high school team, the Ravens, suffer a devastating loss at the hands of Hillcrest/her archrival, Leticia Ortiz. Although Vale is the captain of her team, it is apparent that she has lost her way as its leader. Vale intends to spend the summer before her senior year sulking at a low-stakes, sleepaway soccer camp she hasn’t been to in several years with her best friends and teammates, Dina and Ovie. Unbeknownst to Vale, soccer camp has gotten way more competitive in the last few years and she isn’t the only SoCal Latina planning to spend the summer there. Leticia will be attending as well, and sparks are sure to fly!

Vale is a character with depth and substance. Her inner monologue is sharp and hilarious. She is flawed, relatable, and always growing. Early on, we learn that her mother died of cancer a few years ago when she was thirteen and she is continuing to work through that grief. Unfortunately, that process is exacerbated by her complicated relationship with her father, who really wants Vale to excel in soccer, but has a penchant for negative, and often cruel, reinforcement that borders on emotional abuse. In his eyes, nothing Vale does on the pitch is ever good enough, and she has internalized his criticisms, as evidinced by her anxiety and intrusive thoughts. Notwithstanding her fraught relationship with her father and the loss of her mother, Vale is incredibly resilient and well-adjusted. She is in for an unforgettable summer where she is going to have to figure out what kind of leader she is and grapple with what soccer truly means to her.

The world that Racquel Marie builds is rich with diversity. Vale is biracial, queer, and asexual. Leticia is Cuban, a lesbian, and has two moms. There are several women of color who play important roles in Vale’s life, as well as significant bisexual, pansexual, gay, and trans characters. Although not a criticism, I really wanted to hear more about Vale’s queer asexuality. I thought it was an important aspect of her identity that I don’t usually see represented in YA literature and that Racquel Marie could have spent a little more time developing it. 

Overall, I loved this book. I coveted sapphic YA when I was in high school, but I couldn’t always find it. When I did, the characters didn’t usually share my cultural background. You Don’t Have a Shot is the kind of feel-good, representative book I wish I had growing up. Read it.

Trigger Warnings: anxiety, death of a loved one, and emotionally abusive language.

Raquel R. Rivera (she/her/ella) is a Latina lawyer and lady lover from New Jersey. She is in a lifelong love affair with books and earned countless free personal pan pizzas from the Pizza Hut BOOK IT! program as a kid to prove it.