The best queer retellings that expertly subvert expectations

To me, what’s most striking about this book, a queer retelling of “Snow White,” is that in addition to the POV of the Snow White character, Lynet, there’s also narration from Mina, the Evil Queen insert. Only in this retelling Mina isn’t a superficial villain.

In fact, she’s no villain at all. I find her to be a complex heroine, and her relationship with Lynet is equally rich and complicated. I was compelled by Lynet and Mina’s struggles under the weight of feminine and royal expectations. Despite their conflicts, they are more alike than they are different, and their journey to realizing this was so satisfying.

The sapphic romance between Lynet and a surgeon provides a lovely subplot that adds to, rather than distracts from, the main storyline. One of my all-time favorite sapphic retellings.

No novelization of “The Goblin Market,” a poem by Christina Rosetti, has convinced me of the market’s allure like Not Good for Maidens. Lou, the novel’s main character, reflected my feelings in the beginning of the story, expressing confusion as to why anyone would enter the market knowing its horrors.

But as the past timeline of the novel developed, in which Lou’s Aunt May visited the market and began an unexpected sapphic romance, and as Lou had her own experiences related to the market in the present timeline, it was easier to understand why someone would be tempted. 

In their respective timelines, Lou and May search for themselves, desperate to forge identities unbound by family and duty. The market, in a way, grants them unique paths toward freedom, and I found that to be a compelling take on a classic I was never enchanted by before. Bovalino’s prose, illuminating both the grotesque and the dazzling, also captivated me throughout.

This book, a retelling of “Cinderella,” is widely considered to be a foundational queer retelling, and I wholeheartedly agree with that assessment.

It was the first queer retelling I ever read and continues to be a favorite. It inspired me to write my own queer retellings and is a fine example of a novel that didn’t need sweeping battles and world-ending threats to be compelling.

I found Ash’s journey through grief and her path to love to be strong in their own ways. Quietly powerful stories like Ash are what I most enjoy, though they are a rarity, especially in YA, where things tend to be very high stakes.

What I loved most about Ferraro’s retelling of The Mysteries of Udolpho was his unique take on the classic YA love triangle. Not only does this love triangle stand out because it’s queer (all three characters involved are young men), but because it wasn’t obvious to me from the beginning how the love triangle would resolve. Typically, in love triangle stories, I can tell who the character – and thus the author – prefers. I’m pretty confident about who is going to win out in the end. 

But Ferraro took his time developing each love interest, and his main character’s struggle to pick one over the other is palpable and well-written. I was left guessing until the very end, and the way the love triangle resolved was both surprising and satisfying. 

I loved McLemore’s retelling of “The Red Shoes” because the novel felt uniquely historical and modern due to its dual timelines, with one storyline in 1518 and the other five centuries later. Despite being so far apart, the timelines were connected by the intriguing mystery of a dancing fever. 

Another element I loved is that the 1518 timeline featured a queer romance with a trans character, which you don’t see often, even in queer retellings, and added another layer of richness to the story.

I’m a fan of everything McLemore writes because of their lush prose and compelling characters, but this one remains my favorite of theirs.