Tag Archives: teen

Rachel reviews Ask The Passengers by A.S. King

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All across America, millions of teenage girls are asking themselves “Am I gay?” and “Is it wrong to be a lesbian?” They also ask “How will I tell anybody; what will they think of me?” YA author A.S. King has written Ask The Passengers, a novel where one lesbian girl asks herself these questions and more.

Astrid Jones lives in Unity Valley with her uptight mother, her father who is on drugs, and a younger sister. She is in love with Dee, and wants to be in a relationship with her, but nobody knows Astrid is gay. She is afraid to tell her family and friends, as Unity Valley is a town riddled with gossip and backstabbing. To make herself feel better, Astrid sends mental love up to the planes flying overhead, as the passengers won’t judge her.

But the pressure is mounting. Dee, who is out and proud, is pushing Astrid to come out too, something Astrid is not ready for. But when she is accidentally outed, the whole town, including her family, learns the truth. Astrid faces betrayal by her friends, nasty rumors by her narrow-minded school, and the horror of her family. She ponders deeply on her life, and how she wants to live it.

Ask The Passengers is a neat new edition to YA lesbian fiction. Astrid Jones is highly relatable, and readers will feel for her as she questions her sexuality and deals with homophobia. Many people in her life are hypocrites, such as her mother, Claire. She claims to be okay about homosexuality, but reacts the most negatively when she learns about her oldest daughter being gay. Astrid’s school pretends to be tolerant, but really is like the rest of not-so-united Unity Valley. Even Ellis, Astrid’s sister, is afraid to be around Astrid. King really brought the homophobia to life that lesbians face every day, and that made the story more real.

Another really cool aspect of Ask The Passengers was the supernatural karma. Every time Astrid sent a plane her love, the point of view of the story would briefly switch to a passenger on the plane who was going through some issue in his or her life. They would feel Astrid’s love and suddenly know how to fix their situation. I’ve never seen a lesbian story do that, so it was refreshing to see a new take on it.

King also adds real philosophical questions. Astrid is studying Socrates (who she likes to call Frank), and is learning his theories on many aspects of life. My favorite was his cave theory, which was about seeing a narrow view of the world, and how it affects people’s outlook on reality. I thought it tied in perfectly with our society and the gay rights issues we have today.

For any lesbian, this book is an interesting read. Astrid voices many closeted, just coming out lesbians, or lesbians who were unexpectedly outed. She is funny, to the point, and direct with her feelings. A gripping read, Ask The Passengers will resonate with readers even long after they finish it.

Ashley reviews Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger

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I first read Hard Love in 8th grade, about ten years before I figured out I was a lesbian. Later, I decided my fascination with this novel should have been a clue that I was gay—the bashful curiosity that caused me to shut myself in my bedroom and tear through this book in just a few hours was probably a result of my literary crush on one of Ellen Wittlinger’s main characters, Marisol.

John (or Gio, as he dubs himself) is a bit of a loner, navigating his parents’ divorce through his newly founded zine, Bananafish. As Gio explores more of the indie zine culture, he discovers Marisol’s zine, Escape Velocity. Impressed with both her writing and her openness about her identity, Gio vows to seek out Marisol, hoping to gain some inspiration. Marisol agrees to teach him the ways of zine-making, and soon their relationship evolves into a true friendship, for which neither character is totally prepared.

I’ve always been fascinated by the ambiguous line between friendship and romance. This book takes that ambiguity and brings it into focus, as Gio and Marisol try to figure out how to be friends when there are some questionably more-than-friendly feelings involved.

Marisol is an amazing character. She is witty, sarcastic, super intelligent and incredibly confident. She knows more about herself than most adults do, and is constantly trying to understand her identity better. Her introspective side manifests itself in Escape Velocity, in which she validates her identity by naming it in a very Audre Lorde-like manner (“Marisol Guzman, Puerto Rican Cuban Yankee Cambridge, Massachusetts, rich spoiled lesbian private-school-gifted-and-talented writer virgin looking for love”).

But even Marisol doesn’t have it all figured out. As she advises Gio on his writing and his life, her attitude suggests that she sees the world in black and white—she honestly believes there is one right way to approach a situation. For this reason, she is caught off-guard when her friendship with Gio gets more complicated than expected.

I have much less patience for Gio than for Marisol. I always want him to grow more courageous as the story progresses, but when he decides to do something drastic, it is often without any consideration for the consequences. However, I do prefer Gio as a narrator: in Wittlinger’s companion book, Love and Lies: Marisol’s Story, I found that having insight into her point of view took away from her allure.

The primary flaw of Hard Love is its narrow-mindedness; it excludes any identity other than gay or straight. (For example, asexuality is deemed “a defect.”) Similarly, the novel relies on stereotypes of lesbians that made me a bit uncomfortable during my latest reading. I hate to think that the depictions of lesbians I saw in Hard Love defined what the term meant for me as a supposedly straight teenager.

At the same time, readers should remember that Hard Love was published in 1999, many years before the Malinda Lo and David Levithan age of LGBTQ YA. Only recently has the genre expanded to include such varied stories of queer youth. As such, Wittlinger was certainly a frontrunner in creating space for lesbian characters in mainstream YA literature—in fact, Hard Love won the Lambda Literary Award for YA fiction in 2000.

Though it is arguably less progressive than more recently published books, I still highly recommend Hard Love. Marisol and Gio’s struggle to define friendship will always be relevant, whether you are a teenager just trying to make it through high school or a twenty-something who wishes she had recognized the feelings this book conjured so many years ago.

Rachel reviews Gravity by Leanne Lieberman

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For many gays and lesbians, religion, be it Christianity or Judaism, can be very hard to reconcile to and keep true to their identities at the same time. Gravity by Leanne Lieberman explores these very problems for a lesbian Orthodox Jewish teenager.

It is the summer of 1987 in Canada, and fifteen year old Ellie Gold, the younger daughter of two Jewish teachers, goes to stay with her grandmother for the summer. With her Bubbie, Ellie feels more freedom than she ever had at home with her strict parents. During her vacation, she meets Lindsay, a Christian girl with strong rebellious tendencies. They become unlikely friends, and soon share their first kiss, which leaves Ellie confused about herself and her faith.

Once summer ends and Ellie goes back to school, she begins to painstakingly research what the Torah says on homosexuality. The answers she gets from the Torah and her school counselor lead her to feelings of shame and self-loathing. She tries to push her thoughts of Lindsay away, but the girl keeps entering her mind. Soon, she questions the accuracy of the Torah and wonders if she has a place in her faith.

This story of one girl’s soul-searching is gripping and can easily resonate with questioning lesbians of any faith. I found Ellie to be a highly relatable character; her alarm at her first stirrings of attraction, her questioning and agonizing “Is this wrong?” “Why can’t I change?” repeats the same questions of lesbians everywhere. I saw my own pain and fear in Ellie. And her feelings of having no place in her religion is a major issue for lesbians today.

Gravity, besides having serious religious questions, can also be comical. Ellie’s Bubbie is funny and provides a few laughs. Ellie’s sister Neshama is a rebellious teen trying to make her own way in the world. She and Ellie exchange some banter, but really care for each other, as evidenced by Neshama’s accepting attitude towards her sister.

Leanne Lieberman does a good job showing the customs of Orthodox Judaism, as well as the language spoken during prayers. In the back of the book is a glossary of Hebrew words and names of the holidays Ellie and her family celebrate, such as Purim and Rosh Hashanah.

There are good subplots to the story as well, such as Neshama’s secretly applying to universities and Ellie’s mother’s struggle to find her own niche in the Jewish faith. There’s also the enigmatic Lindsay, who has issues of her own to deal with. Each subplot adds in to the story so that the reader sees multiple things going on, not just Ellie’s relationship with Lindsay. It gives the book a more realistic feel to it, and brings out the characters a lot more.

Anyone who is into lesbians trying to reconcile their faith should pick up this book. Though it takes place over twenty years ago, Gravity still resonates with modern lesbians. With its realistic characters and plotlines, people will be drawn in to Ellie’s story and see their own at the same time.

Danika reviews Kissing Kate by Lauren Myracle

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I have had this book on my shelf for so many years that I actually couldn’t say with any certainty whether I read it or not. I felt like I had, but I couldn’t remember anything about it. So, since I was going to see Lauren Myracle at Leakycon in a couple weeks, I decided to pick it back up and determine that for certain. Kissing Kate is definitely a quick read, under 200 pages, but I feel like it does have quite a bit to offer. I was intrigued by the first page, which seems to drop us in the middle of the typical lesbian teen book plot: Lissa has recently kissed her best friend, Kate, and now they aren’t talking anymore. But Myracle skips all of the build-up to that point and takes us straight into the aftermath, which I appreciated. It feels much more to the point this way, and not like we’re actually missing out on anything, with just enough being revealed through flashbacks.

This isn’t an action-packed novel; it is mostly about Lissa struggling to find herself. And it’s not just coming out. Kate and Lissa have been “Kate-and-Lissa” for so long that she flounders without her best friend. Throughout the book, Lissa begins to open herself up to finding new friends and new things to be excited about, while still dealing with the tension with Kate. It’s not a love story, either, but more of a snapshot of a pivotal moment in Lissa’s life. I loved the added details that made the characters seem more three-dimensional, like the main character’s unconventional family, formed of her uncle, sister, and herself. They don’t fit together perfectly, and Lissa still feels the absence of her parents (who died when she was eight), but they obviously care deeply about each other and make it work. Lissa’s new friends and her employer all have distinct personalities and voices, and they nudge her towards expanding her view on the world. There’s also a whole subplot on lucid dreams that actually was the point when I remembered reading this as a teenager: I found the concept and details so fascinating that I attempted to use what was described in the books to lucid dream myself, so it was obviously a memorable detail.

Kissing Kate maybe isn’t a life-shattering book, but it is a strong book in the lesbian teen genre. I liked that it wasn’t just about coming out, but also about not being so dependent on one other person for your sense of self. And it’s also not a love story, which is different from a lot of lesbian YA. Plus, it gets bonus points for mentioning the possibility that Lissa may be bi. I think this would be a great book to read as a newly out teenager, or just as a quick, satisfying read for anyone.

Hannah reviews Mermaid In Chelsea Creek by Michelle Tea

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This book is a gift to the world. As I read it I imagined wrapping it up in pretty colored paper and giving it to someone I love, to imagine them discovering it for the first time. Mermaid in Chelsea Creek is everything I’ve ever wanted from a Young Adult, “Chosen One” fantasy novel. I began this book looking for a light, summery mermaid read, and found something worth so much more.

Our protagonist, the realistic, sometimes-bratty-but-ultimately-good-hearted Sophie, is the daughter of a working single mother. Her mother is tired, burnt-out, and neglectful. Sophie feels unloved.

This was my favorite part of the novel, although it may seem depressing. I’ve never read a fantasy story featuring a neglectful parent before. Harry Potter has a nasty aunt and uncle and the Disney movie Tangled has an abusive mother – who is not, in fact, an actual mother at all. But in children’s fiction there is a dearth of children who are genuinely unloved or neglected by their biological parents but do amazing things anyway. The world needs these stories. We have an overabundance of dead parents in prose, but there’s always this assumption that these dead parents would have loved their children. Harry’s mother’s love reaches beyond the grave. And that’s a beautiful story, but it’s a story that many children can’t relate to. Give them something they can relate to, and then give them hope. Neglected children, too, get to be the Chosen Ones.

Onwards: I loved the fantasy elements mixed with stark realism. Sophie lives in a grubby city which contains a polluted creek. This creek is not only unimpressive, but thoroughly revolting. And yet it is here where the mermaid lurks, waiting to inform Sophie of her destiny.

The mermaid, herself, is perfectly magical, but she, too, is of this world: She’s from Poland, speaks accented English, and, what’s more, has a very foul mouth. A mermaid with a pirate mouth.

Another important setting is “the dump,” where Sophie discovers that a place filled with discarded items and heaps of broken glass is, just like the mermaid, enchanted: “The whole place was a mixture of sparkle and grit, sort of magical in an ordinary way…”

Throughout the novel the ordinary is made beautiful, the mundane and magical intertwined until the two become indistinguishable from one another. Reflecting this theme is the prose: Michelle Tea writes beautifully, but sometimes conversationally. Her characters, too, speak not like characters in a book but like real people. They curse and have accents and say ‘like’ too many times. This theme – the ordinary is deeply, profoundly beautiful – is reinforced by every aspect of the book.

Also, I know a lot of people don’t like pigeons, but I love them. Michelle Tea, too, has been fortunate enough to realize their beauty, and she writes about them in her book, putting them on the magical pedestal they deserve.

I saw on Amazon that a reviewer said this book would “have difficulty finding an audience.” This book includes American immigrants from Puerto Rico, Mexico, and Poland; a lesbian mentor in the form of Angel; a girl with a single-parent household; and more. Sounds like Tea’s reached out to a pretty wide audience to me.

Also, teeny tiny side note: This book has no romantic lead. For a YA book, that is very, very rare. Plenty of YA authors need to insert a romantic subplot before their novels can be published. I was relieved and refreshed to see Sophie too busy with magic to be kissing mediocre thirteen year-old boys (or girls).

I hold this book close to my heart, now. I hope you will, too.

Rachel posted Happy Endings Are All Alike by Sandra Scoppettone

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In 1978, a lesbian novel was published by Sandra Scoppettone, called Happy Endings Are All Alike. Though it’s almost four decades later, the book still hits home the prejudices, sexism, and hatred against gays and lesbians, and the plight of gays was just being acknowledged to the nation.

In Gardener’s Point, a small narrow-minded town, Jaret Tyler is enjoying her summer before going to college. She is also in the midst of a love affair with former classmate, Peggy Danziger. The two are happy with each other and their relationship, but are only out to a few people; like Kay, Jaret’s feminist mother, and Bianca, their friend who introduced them. They know that, if their affair were to be found out, they would face major prejudice. And when one bitter, angry young man learns of their secret, he uses it as an excuse to brutally violate Jaret, turning the girl’s worlds upside down.

Happy Endings has amazingly real characters. Nobody is perfect. Jaret and Peggy have their troubles, like any couple, and the supporting characters, like Jaret’s parents and moody brother, bring out a real touch to the novel. Some characters are funny and likeable, while others are downright revolting. Bianca is very eccentric, dramatic, and over the top hilarious. Peggy’s older sister, Claire, feels ugly compared to Peggy and as a result has deep bitterness, insecurity, and spite. She detests homosexuality, and uses Peggy’s secret to hold over her. Then there is Jaret’s detestable attacker.

Jaret and her mother are very into women’s rights, and they do deal with sexism. One case was when Jaret was being interviewed after the attack by Chief Foster. He bluntly implied that she was to be blamed for the beating and the rape, and not “the poor boy.” Though father of a girl himself, Foster asks Jaret mean questions about the attack, and when he learns she is a lesbian, he suggests the parents don’t press charges.

Happy Endings is a good book that shows how bad homophobia and sexism can get, but I would only recommend it for mature readers. The scene where Jaret is raped is highly disturbing and her treatment by her attacker and Foster will make any reader furious. The book is good to read about the gay movement in the 70s, but for a gay person coming out, it may be too heavy.

Happy Endings, though very dark, is not like the earlier doomsday lesbian novels. There are still unanswered questions at the end, like how the attacker’s trial goes, but Jaret is determined to punish him. And though for a while it looks like Jaret and Peggy can’t work out their relationship, in the last scene they reconcile and it’s strongly hinted that they will find a way to be together. “Happy Endings Are All Alike” is one of the first lesbian novels that offer hope at the end, and for that and its realistic story, I recommend it.

Danika reviews Inheritance by Malinda Lo [Spoiler-Free for Adaptation!]

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As you may recall, I read Adaptation by Malinda Lo about a month ago and really, really enjoyed it. Easily one of the best YA I’ve ever read, nevermind queer YA. So I was excited to pick up and the next and final book in the duology (I originally thought it was a trilogy and was sadly mistaken). Right after reading Adaptation and raving about it, however, I was warned by another book blogger that the second book was slower. Then my coworker who I’d convinced to read Adaptation and who also loved it said that she hadn’t enjoyed the sequel very much. That made me hesitant to pick up Inheritance; I didn’t want it to dampen my enthusiasm for Adaptation. That’s partly why this review is spoiler-free for Adaptation (and therefore is going to be pretty vague): I wanted other people to have a good sense of the duology as a whole if they had heard similar things about the sequel.

I decided to give myself a little break between Adaptation and Inheritance. I think that was crucial. I was trying to lower my expectations, but it also allowed me to come off the adrenaline buzz that was Adaptation. When I started Inheritance, I had a lot fewer expectations. And from that point, I actually ended up really enjoying Inheritance! I thought it was a fantastic sequel, and the two books together make for a solid duology. It’s true that Inheritance is less action-packed than its predecessor. It’s as if Adaptation spends the entire book raising questions and having all of these dramatic things happen. Inheritance expands on what the consequences of those events are, and if it doesn’t answer all the questions, it at least allows space for them to play out. It’s definitely a different feel from Adaptation, but I think it needed to be. Malinda Lo really followed through on everything that happened in the first book, and it definitely still felt compelling to me.

And then, of course, there’s the love triangle. This is possibly the best treatment of a love triangle of all time. What Lo does with this, and with bits of discussion of sexuality and gender and race, shouldn’t be revolutionary. If you are in any kind of social justice spaces, the ideas she addresses should be pretty basic, but in terms of mainstream media, it’s above and beyond. I was reading a small conversation that discusses gender and thinking (for the only time in the duology) that this was a little slow, but I realized that if I read this as a teenager it would have blown my mind. The idea that nonbinary genders can exist, or alternative relationship structures, or hell, just having the word “bisexual” actually mentioned, is so huge. You don’t see that in YA, not even queer YA. You don’t see it in mainstream books, or TV, or movies, or anything. Because of that, this kind of book could really change a person’s life.

I finished the Adaptation duology just so happy that it exists. Not only that it was a hugely entertaining reading experience, with an amazing plot and well-rounded characters, but because it is a book that addresses sexuality and gender and race but isn’t just about that. It’s a series I can hand to anyone, including people who many not usually pick up books with a queer main character. And it’s shows that queer people continue to have rich lives in addition to being queer. It’s not the only characteristic we have. I really have nothing but praise for this series. Read it, make your friends read it, make your library buy it, give it to your teenage niblings and cousins and kids.

Anna M reviews Frenemy of the People by Nora Olsen

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Frenemy of the People is a YA novel by Nora Olsen, who wrote the YA science fiction novel Swans & Klons (also on my to be read list).

Lexie, the daughter of two disinterested business executives, spends her time doing all she can to resist The Man. She’s a self-styled punk rock rebel–a vegan out lesbian and dumpster-diving, sheeple-loathing activist. She hates everything so much that she’s doing her best to get into a college that accepts kids who want to skip the end of high school.

Clarissa’s family exceeded its modest income by purchasing a luxurious house with a bad mortgage and compounding it with more ill-conceived debt. As a result, Clarissa’s seemingly idyllic life is now crumbling. Her beloved horse is sold without her knowledge and her sister with Down Syndrome is single-mindedly pursuing a campaign to be homecoming queen. She’s also had the sudden realization that she’s bisexual, which prompts her to found a gay-straight alliance at the high school.

The narration alternates between the two girls’ points of view. The reader is told by both Clarissa and Lexie that they dislike one another intensely, but their antipathy doesn’t really seem that strong, and it’s pretty easily overcome after they start working together on Desi’s campaign. Soon, Lexie and Clarissa find themselves developing feelings for one another. Lexie uses knowledge gained from her investment banker parents to advise Clarissa in the face of the bank’s imminent foreclosure on her family’s home, but (naturally) obstacles arise in the path of their romance.

On the whole, I enjoyed the story and was interested in seeing it through to the end. I appreciated that Desi seemed like a real, three-dimensional character rather than a handy plot accessory. The scenes where Clarissa was thinking about or interacting with her sister were among my favorite, along with those where the characters were allowed to air their quirks. I’m not sure the story was believable, but I didn’t end up caring too much. There was an oddly detailed amount of information about the mortgage crisis and foreclosures and so on, so much that it sometimes seemed to veer into nonfiction. If you like this type of YA setting, try Sister Mischief by Laura Goode.

Rachel reviews Good Moon Rising by Nancy Garden

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While most fans of lesbian literature will recognize Nancy Garden for her classic romance Annie on my Mind, there are still plenty of other books she has written that young lesbians can relate to. Good Moon Rising is one of them. It has a combination of lesbian lovers, theatre and acting, and intolerance and ignorance of homosexuality.

Seventeen year old Jan Montcrief, a budding young stage actress, returns to her school after a pleasant time at a summer acting program. The theatre coach, Mrs. Nicholson, is putting on The Crucible, a play about the Salem Witch Trials, and Jan auditions for the female lead, Elizabeth Proctor. She is soon shocked to learn that she will not be playing Elizabeth; she will be a stage manager. The new girl, Kerry Ann Socrides has gotten Jan’s part. At first upset, Jan grows to enjoy her new role, and to befriend Kerry as they work on Crucible together. Soon, Mrs. Nicholson is in poor health, and Jan must take over as director. She and Kerry fall deeply in love, which their classmates pick up on pretty fast. And some are determined to use that against the girls.

Good Moon Rising does a wonderful job with the characters, making Jan and Kerry likeable. Also Jan’s wondering “Am I gay?” will strongly resonate with any lesbian doing her own soul-searching. The supporting characters add to the story. Ted, Jan’s lifelong best friend, has his own feelings for Jan that complicate their friendship. Kerry’s eccentric and silly Aunt Elena provides some laughs, though she has her reservations about homosexuality. Perhaps the most conflicted and prejudiced character is Kent, a classmate playing John Proctor. He is openly gay-bashing and always trying to prove himself as a “real” man. But Jan soon suspects that Kent is hiding his own homosexuality. It’s ironic; Kent, a homosexual himself, actually does the most bullying in the book.

The prejudice Jan and Kerry face parallel to the hysteria and ignorance of those who participated in the Salem Witch Trials. All over school, signs saying “I saw Jan Montcrief with the devil, I saw Kerry Socrides with the devil” are posted, sounding like the lines used in The Crucible. Kerry and Jan are thrown Bible quotes alongside threats and prank phone calls. Their classmates are going out of their way to ruin the two girls and break them apart; all because of their own fears and hatreds, much like Crucible and the Salem trials.

Good Moon Rising, compared with Annie on my Mind, is somewhat darker in tone, as the prejudice the girls face is bolder, and Jan must come to terms with Mrs. Nicholson’s terminal illness and eventual death. The book has a few sadder scenes, and Jan and Kerry are dealt a lot of homophobic blows. For a while, things between them are uncertain. And the story is set in late fall, giving a dreary atmosphere.

But there is still hope for Jan and Kerry. With help from Jan’s gay friend Raphael, the girls begin to come out and take braver steps in telling their families and remaining together. Though some questions are left unanswered, Good Moon Rising ends on a happy note. Jan and Kerry’s love for each other seems stronger, and both feel more comfortable as lesbians. And they do have the support of friends to pull them through. While Good Moon Rising is a more somber read, it is a masterpiece in its own right, and should be remembered as one of Nancy Garden’s best novels.

Krait reviews Love in the Time of Global Warming by Francesca Lia Block

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Love in the Time of Global Warming follows Penelope – Pen – through a modern dystopian retelling of The Illiad. After a catastrophic earthquake (appropriately named the Ground Shaker) destroys her happy teenage life, Pen embarks on a dark myth-steeped adventure to find her missing parents and brother. Along the way, she encounters monsters, both literal and figurative, puzzles, and three other queer teens. However, despite the premise, the focus in Love is on storytelling and narrative, not on dystopian details. Pen tells stories and weaves narratives out of dreams, visions, and reality. There are some gritty details – searching for water or fuel, struggling to find food – but the book tends to skim over details that don’t further a metaphor or theme. The result is a dreamy experience, but Love lacks a certain level of grounding that I would have liked to see. The action scenes are never visceral and action was sometimes subsumed by vague prose.

Pen herself is a fascinating character, a bisexual teenage girl who speaks and dreams in art and literary allusions. (Several times, I found myself researching the unfamiliar paintings she references). She reveals her longstanding unreciprocated crush on one of her best friends in flashbacks and dreams, and while her sexuality is not the main focus of the book, her attraction to women and the female figure do often feature in her reactions. Her main love interest – Hex – is transgender and the first of three queer teenagers she meets. Their growing relationship is heartfelt, lovely, and slow enough to never upstage the pace of their grand quest.

Francesca Lia Block writes Love in the Time of Global Warming with floating and lush prose, rich with imagery and monsters pulled both from Homer (the Lotus-Eaters, the Sirens, and more) and traditional fairy-tales. Butterflies and small acts of courage are both oft reoccurring themes. If you enjoy gorgeous wordplay, art and literary allusions, I can definitely recommend Love in the Time of Global Warming.