Books like Queer Conflict Research — picked by fans

This book was one of the first books I read on queer International Relations (IR) during my PhD, and it convinced me – quite effortlessly – that queer IR was the intellectual home for me.

Weber articulates a vision of queer IR that does not aim to define what "queer IR" is. But I can’t help but think her contributions in the book – which foreground gender, sex, and sexuality, and the plural ways the international hinges on logics of normal/perverse – did that for me anyway. 

I love this book’s attention to the various analytical functions that queer can bring to IR: from the deconstructive methodology Weber cultivates, to the scrutinising of the simultaneously gendered, sexual, and racialised construction of the normal and/or perverse queer subject.

This book taught me about the necessity of doing queer research that not only challenges cisheteronormativity, but also colonialism and coloniality as well.

Rao’s book is a masterclass in transnational and transtemporal storytelling, narrating plural stories of the (post)colonial politics of queerness, gender, and sexuality. I was especially gripped by his chapter tracing the colonial spectres of atonement that underpin the British government’s apologies for anti-sodomy laws, which resonates with a broader homocolonial discourse Western countries have used to denounce former colonised countries as backward and queerphobic. 

Queer IR can and should attend to these imperial histories and afterlives, and how they are underpinned by and uphold particular gendered and sexual norms. This book shows how global politics is a story about (post)coloniality and queerness.

This was one of the first academic books I read that centred LGBTQ people as agents and actors of global politics, and to be fair, it’s probably one of the first within IR to do so.

As someone who first learnt about queer theory from the philosophical, abstract, and (let’s be honest) sometimes dense verbosity of poststructural queer thinkers, picking up Lavinas Picq and Thiel’s collection brought queer lives, in all their diversity, plurality, and embodiment, back into the picture.

Some of my favourite chapters include those on Pride events in the Amazon and the exploration of Indigenous experiences of queerness (Lavinas Picq), and the intersections of Muslim sexualities, modernity, and (neo-)colonialism (Rahman).

This book paved the way for more queer research, challenging the disciplinary confines of IR. 

This is a book that I was gifted by a mentor.

I was so pleased to read the work of a rising queer IR scholar doing work that continues Weber’s foundational critique of the colonial and heteronormative logics of normal/perverse that underpin global politics. 

In the book, Vernon focuses their attention on the colonial scripts of UK discourse on humanitarian intervention. I found myself agreeing at every turn with Vernon’s characterization of the UK’s scripting of "The Brutal Dictator," "The ISIL Terrorist," and "The British Self."

The book revealed to me the enduring power of colonialism and coloniality in global politics, and that queer IR must continue to scrutinize how these structures recruit queerness and heteronormativity in pernicious ways. 

The Memory Librarian is an adaptation of Monáe's 2018 emotion picture, Dirty Computer. Told in the icon's signature Afro-futuristic fashion, this unquestionably queer AF collection of sci-fi stories describes a dystopian world where dirty computers (people who stray from societal norms) are ostracized in the worse ways imaginable. What's even scarier, while the stories take place in the future, the premise isn't that far from our present-day reality.

Books that boast BIPOC themes are being banned at a record rate. And this year alone, over 200 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced into legislation. Just as Americans have banded together around their common causes, the inhabitants in Monáe's sci-fi saga unite as chosen family. Together they navigate technology, battle memory control, explore identity, and fight for freedom in a ruthless police state.

"Everything comes full circle. And time takes care of itself. Our work is the work of… show more.

Much extreme horror presents us with cardboard characters who are ripped and torn with no real consequence – but Aaron gives us deeply felt people who pulse on the page, which means it really hurts me as a reader when he subjects them to brutal and unforgiving fates.

His fiction aches like unacknowledged truth, displaying an empathy that doesn’t gloss over the horrors of this world and the next, and feels intimately personal whether he's delving into family dramas, failed relationships, queer themes, or sophisticated splatter.

While his work mostly details the horrors we inflict upon each other, even with the best of intentions, it’s too broad to be kept in one box – and if it was, it would surely cut its way out and come for your heart next. 

This book has all the things I love about a swashbuckling fantasy–found family, romance, and magic. The art is gorgeous, the characters are loveable, and the world is bustling with excitement and danger at every turn.

I loved the One Piece vibes, and it’s so wonderful to see queerness just be there. I could not stop turning the pages. 

I’m a huge fan of queer re-tellings (as you can probably sense from this list) as well as lush, detailed historical fiction, and C.B. Lee delivers both in this vivid, adrenaline-spiking adventure. My favorite thing about this story is how Lee takes the bones of Treasure Island and reanimates them, bringing a new perspective to a classic by shifting the focus from traditional Western pirate narratives. Riding the waves with Xiang as she discovers her own identity and family history is an absolute delight, and seeing her relationship with Anh grow is a beautiful thrill. 

This review perfectly summed up this book but neglected to mention it has a spectacular cover, which I’ll admit was the first thing that drew my eye. The story also features a bi-racial main character, and since my children are multi-racial, I love seeing this representation. Because I’m an unapologetic book nerd, I adored the many literary references. And I always love a good road trip! All in all, this is one character-driven YA novel you won’t want to miss.

It’s a queer re-telling of The Gift of the Magi, both adorable and melodramatic—and I loved it! Yin and Ari celebrate their own space they’ve carved out with help from supportive friends and family and their own hard work, which fits Herrera’s Dreamers/refugee theme and is handled with trust, compassion, and love—but isn’t sugar-coated, either.

They’ve both got instincts and baggage around things falling apart or not working out and a hesitancy to think they can do enough for each other. This brilliantly written psychology leads to a series of good (yet terrible) choices. Watching them try to do something truly special for each other—even though they’re breaking their own rules for the gift exchange—had this wonderful bittersweet edge to it that ultimately ended on a note of joy I really loved, even if it got a little bumpy along the way.