The Welcome Rise of Incidental Gay Characters in Fantasy and Historical Fiction!

6 Nov

You guys, I’m so excited. Literature reflects our society, whether that literature takes place in modern-day America, on the moon, or in a made-up world.

Which is why I’m so pleased to see gay and queer characters sprinkled throughout the young adult novels I’ve been reading. It’s not that this in itself is now- but it’s how it’s being done.

Just like including people of color or people with disabilities or other people who get less representation in fiction, there’s a right and a wrong way to write a queer character. I’m excited because I happened across two novels in a row with queer characters where:

  1. Being gay or queer wasn’t their only character trait, or even their central character trait.
  2. Like every character should do in a well-crafted story, they supported the central theme of the story and/or added a richer dimension to the novel’s world.

This kind of writing is exciting to see in any genre, but I’m most excited that I’m seeing it more in historical fiction and fantasy. The kinds of historical fiction and fantasy that feel the most rich and realistic include a wide cast of characters. Why would every person in a fantastical world be straight? And were there only straight people living in the past? Certainly not.


*sigh* Just ignore the fact that the cover has yet another White Girl in a Prom Dress…

I recently finished Ash & Bramble by Sarah Prineas, a novel that deconstructs the idea of fairy tales and what happens when we go against the fate that “Story” has planned for us. It’s a fascinating allegory for creating your own path in life and going against societal expectations.

The main character, Pin, encounters two women who support this theme, Templeton and Zel. Neither of them followed the expectations that a fairy tale had in mind, and Templeton tells about how they subverted the classic “Rapunzel” story.

Templeton tells Pin:


“So the Godmother’s got the prince all picked out. He’ll climb up the tower, rescue her, true love, the end. Doesn’t matter what the prince really wants, or the pretty doll really wants. This is Story at work, you see? … But I got there first. I’d been visiting every night. Zel grew her hair out long as a rope.” She gives her arm muscles a proud flex. “We fell in love, and we wanted to be together,  no matter Story’s intentions. So I became a storybreaker.” (341-42)

Templeton goes on to talk about how she climbed up the tower, cut off Zel’s hair, and had a scuffle with the prince. Subverting a heteronormative love story serves as a perfect example of rebelling against Story’s (and society’s) expectations of what should happen.

I might have cheered and punched the air at this passage when I read it. Honestly, I should just write a blog post devoted to Ash & Bramble, because the novel is thoughtfully constructed and there are lots of fascinating thought puddles to dive into.


This cover is so pretty…that font! *grabby hands*

Rae Carson’s most recent novel, Walk on Earth a Stranger, isn’t entirely historical fiction, as there’s a magical element, but other than the main character’s ability to sense when gold is near, the world is a very realistic 1849.

Lee escapes a dangerous situation in her hometown in Georgia, disguising herself as a boy to join a wagon trail to California.

Carson certainly did her historical research, which makes the journey come to life. She highlights the expectations of women, which turned into deadly dangers on the trail, as illustrated by one woman who undergoes a dangerous birthing process in Death Valley.

Lee disguises herself as a boy to avoid detection and to make her journey easier. Many of the people on the wagon trail are going to California to seek their fortunes, but Carson writes about other reasons why people braved the trail. Lee’s otherness isn’t missed by two men from Mississippi, who mistake her for one of their own:

“‘What do you mean I’m one of you?’

‘A confirmed bachelor. San Francisco is a new world, with more money than laws. There’s a place for us there. To live the way we want to live, without interference.’

[…] Jasper must trust me completely to be so frank. Or maybe secrets have a way of making people so lonely that they eventually take a risk on someone” (312-313).


The “confirmed bachelors'” (a term which, Rae Carson notes at the end, may or may not have been used in America during this time, although it was certainly used by their British contemporaries) desire to create a new life and identify for themselves underlines this central theme in the story, enriching Lee’s personal story and making the world feel more organic and alive.

The portrayals in both of these novels are well-done, although there is always the danger of using underrepresented groups in stories to back up the main, straight, cis-gendered, white person’s journey or perspective. I think, though, that these characters mentioned above are a step in the right direction.

Ultimately, I hope to go into a bookshelf and see a diverse mix of novels, to see stories with queer people or people of color as the main characters in stories that don’t center on that part of their identity.

The call for more diverse stories, and by extension more diverse writers, publishers, and editors, is becoming more and more vocal, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that YA literature is paving the way for more diverse stories. YA literature continues to dominate the book market, and I think – I hope – that it will lead in progress as well as sales.

What do you think? Is YA succeeding in diverse portrayals, or is there more work to be done?




Review: Ice Whale

29 May

Jean Craighead George is beloved for writing My Side of the Mountain and Julie of the Wolves. After her death in 2012, two of her children helped piece together her mostly-finished novel Ice Whale, which Dial Books just released.

large_Ice_Whale-198x300The book is, in a word, stunning. It’s less than 200 pages, but it spans 200 years, the lifetime of a bowhead whale. The story begins in 1848, when Toozak, a boy from the Yup’ik tribe, sees a special whale being born. The Yup’ik lived on the west coast of what is now Alaska and on the east coast of Siberia.

Toozak knows getting the privilege of seeing a whale born makes him special, but he is cursed by the village shaman after accidentally betraying the location of the whales to the Yankee whalers. He is charged to protect the whale he saw being born. He calls the whale Siku, and the curse will only be broken if the whale saves a Toozak or if Toozak and his progeny keep the whale safe through its entire life.

In the first chapter alone, I learned so much about whales. Craighead George creates symbols to represent whale songs and language. Certain chapters are told from the whale Siku’s point of view. In these chapters, Siku’s name is represented in symbols that look something like __~~-__~~. It’s a clever way of showing that whales have a complex language of their own.

Readers will also learn a lot about different kinds of Eskimo tribes. The novel acknowledges that there were and are many different nations and languages in the Alaska area. The tribes and the whales are affected by the European and American travelers who hunt whales for their oil and then their baleen. By the time we reach the 5th Toozak, he has an English and an Eskimo name: Charlie Toozak V.

The book also follows several generations of a Yankee whaler named Tom Boyd. A large chunk of the story takes place in 1980, when Emily Toozak VII gets lost on an ice floe and meets one of Tom Boyd’s descendants. She is saved by remembered knowledge of the old Eskimo ways of survival and by Siku’s help.

By the end, the story ties together gracefully. Do yourself a favor and find this book. It took me a couple hours to read, but it will stick with me for much longer.

Review: Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas

25 May

9780439828369_p0_v2_s260x420As a Sherlockian, I was excited when I heard about Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas, even though it came out in 2006. That goes to show how behind the times I am, but Tracy Mack and Michael Citrin created a book well worth visiting. It’s an excellent read for late elementary and middle school readers who are intrigued by Sherlock Holmes or the mystery genre.

The novel, the first in a series, focuses on the Baker Street Irregulars, Sherlock Holmes’s network of street urchins who help him in his cases. In the original canon stories, little is known about them, except that the leader of the group is named Wiggins. The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas follows Wiggins and his gang, particularly Ozzie, an orphan who works for a heartless scrivener.

The mystery starts as a simple one: How did the tightrope-walking Zalindas fall to their deaths at a nearby circus? Evidence suggests it was an accident, but foul play is suspected. This mystery gives way to a greater one involving a priceless book.

I immediately felt sympathy for Ozzie, who shows enough cleverness to impress the great detective himself. The rest of the gang is given character as well: the tough leader Wiggins, Alfie, who makes up for his small size with fierceness, a kind Punjabi boy named Rohan, and Eliot, an Irish seamster.

Although the group is strictly a boys’ club, investigations at the circus lead them to a fortune-teller’s daughter, Pilar. She insists on helping them, and her stubbornness and bravery results in Holmes calling her “a little Irene Adler” – a huge compliment considering that Adler was “The Woman”, one of the few women Holmes ever admired!

Sherlock Holmes is a secondary character to the boys in this story, but an important mentor to the boys. Coauthor Michael Citrin is a Sherlock Holmes fan and it shows- there are lots of canonical references and nods throughout the story.

One thing that broke my heart about the book, though, was the reduction of Holmes’s assistant Watson to a rather mean-spirited buffoon who didn’t help in investigations and disliked the Irregulars throughout the story. I suppose that taking Watson out of the equation gives the boys more opportunity to interact with Holmes, but so many adaptations and pastiches already give poor Watson the short end of the stick.

The book contains a satisfying story by itself, but it also sets up bigger questions for the series. Will Ozzie find out who his father is? How will the boys’ relationships with each other grow and change?

The book also contains several full-page illustrations done by Greg Ruth, which are done in pen and ink and have an appropriately timeless feel to them. And keep your eye out for out of place bold letters in the text. A secret message is threaded through the book!

Review: When Love Comes to Town

19 Mar

In 1993, a Catholic school English teacher in Dublin wrote When Love Comes to Town under the pseudonym Tom Lennon.  He chose a pseudonym because writing about a gay teenager coming to terms with his attractions and his identity would’ve likely cost him his job. Twenty years later, When Love Comes to Town was published in the US for the first time. 

This review contains spoilers for When Loves Comes to Town.

ImageThis novel fits the coming-of-age tale format, but it is remarkable for having been published so ahead of its time.

The novel’s main character, Neil, is still in the closet at the beginning of the book, deflecting off anything uncomfortable with cocky, mildly homophobic jokes. He’s popular and well-liked, but when he’s by himself his thoughts are full of longing for a boy that he’s barely spoken to.

Neil has just turned eighteen, meaning he can legally drink and go to bars, including Dublin’s gay bars. I love how this book realistically portrays gay culture and the gay experience. It doesn’t sugar-coat it and it doesn’t cast everything as gloom and doom. At the gay bar, as in any bar, there are the seedier people and the people that are lonely and desperate for companionship along with the happy-go-lucky revelers.

Neil starts up a complicated friendship with an older gay man he nicknames Sugar Daddy, purely because Neil enjoys being admired. That sounds callous, but it’s a realistic sort of relationship that one fumbles through when one is young and feeling out sexuality.

I also loved the wide range of reactions from Neil’s friends and family when he comes out. His close female friend takes it in stride and isn’t at all surprised, continuing to treating him as she always did. When he tells his sister, though, her reaction is “what he would expect if he had said he had cancer.” His parents have a highly negative reaction, especially his father. Some of his classmates start calling him insulting nicknames. Neil is beaten up several times throughout the book, and in one instance, quite brutally.

And, we get a positive portrayal of a Catholic priest! Since when does that happen in a book about gay sexuality? The local Father is sensitive and receptive when Neil talks to him, and it seems clear that he knows about Neil’s sexual orientation long before he comes out. Toward the beginning of the book, they’re talking about how Neil has decided to major in something his parents won’t be happy with. The priest says something along the lines of, “You’ll have to tell them eventually. They’ll still love you,” and it seems very clear that he’s not talking about university majors anymore. Having that sort of positive relationship with another member of the community was a great touch.

I found it refreshing that the boy that Neil pines for at the beginning isn’t the first relationship he has. He falls for an older boy named Shane, and the messy relationship that ensues feels very realistic. Neil falls hard, Shane considers it less of a serious thing, and miscommunications ensue. Of course, in the end, the door is open for Neil to possibly make things work with Ian, the boy he’s pined over since the beginning.

The book is left open-ended as Neil makes the first step toward starting things off with Ian. One of my few qualms with the book is that we get to see so little of this young man’s personality that Neil pines over throughout the novel!

Overall, though, this novel should be essential reading for those exploring LGBT young adult literature. Whether straight, gay, bisexual, or still figuring it all out, many teens will relate to Neil’s story as he pushes boundaries, takes risks, suffers heartache, and finds out who his true friends are.

*A warning for those who don’t like strong language: The Irish are far more casual with their cussing, so don’t be surprised if the novel seems far more liberal with the swearing. 

*Also, in this new US version, there is a handy glossary of Irish terms that Americans might not be familiar with.

Review: The Girl of Fire and Thorns Trilogy

20 Jan

This review contains spoilers for A Girl of Fire and ThornsThe Crown of Embers, and The Bitter Kingdom.

Sometime in high school, after reading about yet another vaguely medieval-European fantasy world populated by agile, fair-skinned white people, I decided that, if I ever was to become a writer in the future, I would write a fantasy book in which the protagonist was either a) fat, b) black or darker-skinned, or c) gay. I hadn’t encountered much diversity in fantasy, which seemed to be a genre in love with medieval England and France. 

It’s no surprise, then, that when I picked up Rae Carson’s A Girl of Fire and Thorns I was pleasantly surprised to find a strong, intelligent protagonist who was overweight anddark-skinned, living in a tropics-and-desert climate that was a breath of fresh air from the typical mountains-and-pine forest fare.

Let me have my obligatory “Megan-Moans-About-The-State-of-YA-Cover-Art” section first, though. Let’s look at the US and UK cover art for this trilogy:

Image Image Image


The woman posing in these photographs is so clearly white that it’s insulting, given that the protagonist Elisa is explicitly described as “dark-skinned” several times throughout the trilogy. Compare these frankly appalling covers to the UK versions:

Image                         ImageImage

I don’t know how I feel about her face being covered in all three of these cover photos–in the first one it makes sense since she spends a good deal of time in the desert, but having it covered in all three? That stinks to me of marketing being afraid of showing the full face of someone vaguely Arab-looking on a YA fantasy novel cover, 21st century be damned. That’s problematic, along with the fact that, while definitely more “ethnic” than the US cover art’s cover model, her skin tones seems to have been digitally lightened in these photos. Yikes. However, I love the distinct backgrounds of these covers, as they set the tone and location of each book far better than the US versions.

Okay, enough moaning and groaning about typically racist cover art, because a) What else is new, and b) The writer rarely gets any say on what goes on the cover. The far more important section of this review is what I’m calling

 Why You Need to Read This Trilogy Right Now:

1) The main character undergoes substantial and realistic character growth

Elisa begins as a princess moving into a new kingdom, insecure in political marriage she is entering into. She is overweight and fully aware of it, but eats as a coping mechanism (also making this a book that realistically portrays an overweight person). Though smart and wise, she has yet to learn to speak up for herself and find her leadership role. By the end of the first book, she is far healthier (a long trek through the desert will do that to a person), and more confident. She continues to grow through the second and third book in tremendous ways. She copes with death, she makes mistakes (how many protagonists are allowed to really screw up and learn from it?), and she figures out how to disagree with people that she loves and respects. It is very satisfying to see Elisa’s character reach her full potential by the end of The Bitter Kingdom, in which she has blossomed into a courageous leader with conviction, confidence, and enough political savvy to put an end to a major conflict.

2) The magical element in the story is unique and compelling

When I try to describe the magical element in this trilogy, that Elisa is divinely chosen and has a “Godstone” embedded in her stomach, people tend to roll their eyes. It does sound weird, but Carson makes it believable; there is lore behind the bearers of Godstones, there is a religion that tries to make sense of it, and, as religions often do, certain things are wrongly interpreted. Godstones are also a power source, which makes the enemy, a race born with Godstones embedded in them, even more formidable. Elisa learns to harness her Godstone throughout the trilogy, praying and learning to draw energy from the earth to heal or to destroy. What is absolutely phenomenal about this magical plot device, though, is that it doesn’t end up being a deus ex machina at the end of the trilogy. Once Elisa has mastered the use of her Godstone, it seems clear that she will overpower and win through divine force. It is so much satisfying, then, when she loses her Godstone and still manages to solve the main problems through her own power. 

3) It has unique things to say about destiny and divine intentions

A typical trope in a fantasy novel is having a character that is destined to do something Great. Whether it’s fulfilling a prophecy or having a birthright, it usually serves as the overall map of the story. This trilogy seems to follow that trope for most of the book, since Elisa is a bearer of the Godstone, which is divinely given to those burdened with a specific task that isn’t usually known until completed. As Elisa’s kingdom falls into threat, it seems clear that her divine mission is to unite the kingdoms and restore peace, but in fact her Godstone falls out after a seemingly insignificant act unrelated to the political turmoil, suggesting that divine will might have very little relation to how many lives you save or how good of a ruler you are. In the end Elisa saves the kingdom because she is strong enough, brave enough, and intelligent enough. 

4) It contains a great romantic relationship

It’s always a perk when a well-written fantasy work has a likeable romance that doesn’t overshadow the main plot of the story. At the beginning of the first book, Elisa is engaged to King Alejandro, who is gorgeous and kind, but also an ineffective ruler and uninterested in Elisa. While working with a desert rebellion, Elisa has a budding romance with a young man which isn’t able to last, subverting the “Main woman meets The One immediately and the rest is just inevitable” trope. Her growing friendship and then romance with her royal guard, Hector, however, is where the real meat and potatoes of the romance plot is. From their growing realization of their feelings to their tender and clumsy first time together, the romance feels grounded and realistic, and you can’t help but root for these two characters, who are likeable as individuals and who complement each other well as a couple.

5) It’s exciting!

I can’t overlook the fact that these are, first and foremost, entertaining books. There are plenty of shocks and twists, fascinating world-building, and interesting characters who aren’t what they first appear to be to keep the reader turning pages late into the night.  

In short, lovers of YA fantasy should put this on their “To-Read” lists. It is altogether phenomenal.

The Smell of Paper, the Weightlessness of Digital

28 Dec

Last night my bud and I were watching a very campy episode from Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s early days, “I Robot, You Jane.” As dated as the episode’s plot is, Giles, the antiquated British librarian, gets into an argument about paper vs. digital that is still surprisingly relevant. Giles argues,

Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower, or a-a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a – it, uh, it has no texture, no context. It’s-it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um, smelly.

Oh, Rupert, I get your point, I really do. I collect (aka hoard) books. I love the feel of the pages and the covers, I love flipping back and forth between passages, bookmarking with old ticket stubs or grocery lists, and yes, the smell. I don’t think tangible books are going anywhere anytime soon. 

But books are also heavy and space-consuming, and as much as I heap out the saying “You can never have too many books” in generous quantities, I feel like the saying should come with an asterisk:

You can never have too many books.*

*So long as you’re settled down and have ample space.

Neither of these criteria apply to me. As a 20-something, I’m far from settled down, and I have a hankering to travel abroad again, possibly to teach abroad for a year or more. A few years ago I got to travel in one-month blocks around Europe, and I did so with a 10-kg backpack. It was freeing to have so little, and since backpack space was precious, I would pass on a book to another traveler or leave it somewhere for a stranger to find once I finished it. Sharing a book I had just read and loved was even more fulfilling than running my hands over a well-read and well-loved book from my personal library.

But it’s hard to let go, especially when I’ve accumulated such a wonderful collection. Still, if I’m going abroad, I would rather share my favorite books than to hoard them up and store them in a box in my parents’ house until my return. The question then becomes, which physical books do I hold on to? Books that demand underlining and dog-earring of pages? Books signed by authors? Books given as gifts? Rare copies? And what is the maximum amount of books that can still be qualified as the “bare minimum”? 

I’m curious as to what others think. Physical copies of books will always be my preference when I’m at home, but when I’m traveling or my living circumstances are far from concrete, digital is an amazing convenience. I can carry thousands of pages, hundreds of authors and ideas and storylines, in my pocket and across the world. The words are, after all, the most important part of the story. But the smell is always a nice perk.

Review: You Look Different In Real Life

27 Dec

Yep, once again the oh-so-teen Pretty White Girl cover had me entering this book with low expectations. In cases like this, I love it when I’m wrong. Jennifer Castle’s You Look Different In Real Life ended up being a story of five very real teenagers who are discovering who they are and how documentaries about them have affected how they think of themselves. This review contains spoilers.

urlJustine and four of her classmates were featured in a documentary when they were kindergartners called Five at Six, then again in Five at Eleven. Now, five years later, the five are sixteen and the two ambitious filmmakers are back to make the third installment. However, a lot has changed in five years. Justine, who had always charmed audiences, feels like a disappointment and a nobody. She and her former friend Rory are no longer talking. Nate has transformed himself into a cool kid who no longer hangs out with Felix, and Kiera seems to be aloof from them all.

This does not bode well for the film. The five students who used to be so transparent and genuine are now hesitant to share their lives with the filmmakers. Interviews and footage reach dead ends, and the filmmakers are coerced by their producers to

The turning point in the book is really where the story and the characters begin to shine. When Kiera takes off to find her missing mom, the other four go off after her by themselves, and Justine takes the camera with them. It’s only here, on their trip to New York City in a borrowed van with an emergency credit card and a video camera, that friendships start to be repaired and secrets are revealed. Justine begins to repair her friendship with Rory. Felix reveals that he’s gay and that’s why he and Nate have become frosty toward each other. The four witness Kiera reunite with her mom. It’s a powerful choice that Castle makes, having things only come together when Justine and the other four take the film and their lives into their own hands.

This book has a lot of fantastic things going for it: A realistic portrayal of autism through Rory, who is also a great character in general and is far more than “That Autistic Character”, believable and compelling character growth and development, and interesting commentary on the added difficulty of defining yourself when you are conscious of what others think of you.

The concept of teens being followed by a documentary crew is especially relevant in this age, in which teens watch reality shows with dubious amounts of actual reality in them, create YouTube videos and blogs in the hopes of internet fame, and can have the minutia of their day available to all on Facebook and Twitter. How much do we allow others’ opinions or expectations of us define who we are, and how can we use the media tools available to us (as Justine takes the video camera) to create real communications that repair and reconcile?

You Look Different In Real Life is a very satisfying read–I would definitely recommend it for teens and lovers of realistic fiction.