Books like The Low Road — picked by fans

Have you seen Nanette? If not, go watch it right now. I’ll wait.

Okay. Now that you’ve seen Gadsby’s Netflix special, you either get it or you don’t (and you either love Gadsby or you don’t). Gadsby, who grew up queer in a small, intolerant community, and who was later diagnosed with ADHD and ASD, recounts some of her formative experiences in order to construct a portrait of an artist in the 21st century.

Ten Steps to Nanette is at turns painful, hilarious, depressing, and inspiring. And: there are footnotes! (I used footnotes too in one of my novels and I do believe the footnote is a good and loyal friend to the writer with ADHD). 

This is the spark that lit me on fire and showed me that all the features of queer adolescence I thought were impossible to write about in “books for teens” are totally possible to write about.

Juliet, Puerto Rican teen from the Bronx, feels the weight of her community’s and family’s homophobia, and attempts to build her resume and find a wider world by interning for her favorite feminist writer—a thirtysomething eccentric, woo-woo white Oregonian, who despite having friends and exes of color and apparently genuinely hoping to offer Juliet wisdom, care, and research opportunities, is lackadaisical, irresponsible, and more than capable of shrewdly using Juliet to market herself and her books.

Juliet’s encounters with racist microagressions, feminist approaches to menstruation, weed, heartbreak, and the problem of regionally-specific queer buzzwords pull no punches. Rivera asks us to look at what responsibilities might be involved in “community”, including the responsibility to… show more.

A real-life figure played in the Gentleman Jack TV series by Suranne Jones, this biography investigates Anne Lister’s personal diaries to reveal a portrait of someone remarkable: a businesswoman landowner in the early 1800s, a world traveler, and a lover of women long before the word “lesbian” would have accurately described her.

Lister’s boldness seems ahead of her time, but perhaps only because women were so rarely free to express themselves. Lister’s numerous liaisons with women, her plans to make and grow her fortune, plus her documentation of her digestive health, all make her relatable over 200 years later.

This is an important piece of LGBT and gender studies history, a bright chronicle in the archives of feminist study, and an interesting read about an extraordinary person.

I rarely read books more than once, but this is one of the few that gets an exception based on its sharpness and ability to show its reader the highs and lows of a new, intoxicating, and hidden relationship.

The protagonist, as far as she knows, is straight, that is until she meets Finn. What happens then is what happens when you know that something is bad for you from the very beginning, but you pursue it anyway. So beautifully and painfully written but impossible to put down.

Andrea Gibson’s spoken word poems are gut-wrenching testaments to the power of vulnerability and tenderness, weaving anecdotes into fervent pleas for empathy, connection, and social justice. The magic of their pieces lies in the both/and of beauty and pain, unflinchingly facing trauma while clinging to hope. This collection’s strongest poems include “Ashes” (about a gay soldier burned to death) and “Somewhere, a Carpenter” (about the artist’s love for their grandmother). If you want to be truly spellbound, look for the recorded versions of these poems—I’ve attended two of Gibson’s live performances and had goosebumps all over and/or tears streaming down my face from start to finish.

I stumbled upon Milk Fed by accident, and boy am I glad I did. A protagonist after my own heart, Rachel has control issues, which for her manifest in disordered eating, over-exercising, seeking approval and acceptance in the wrong places, and yearning. Ohhh, so much gloriously unhealthy, obsessive yearning. Broder includes a level of grit and physical descriptors that some reviewers deemed “gross,” but to me those details added to the story and made me love it even more. Milk Fed made me laugh, cringe, gasp, and groan.

As with most of Dorothy Allison's work, Two or Three Things I Know For Sure lives in the dramas and intersections around abuse and anger and hope, fueled by her gritty, emotional lyricism. With this explosive, unapologetic narrative about herself and her “trash” family, Two or Three Things has the southern pacing that creeps up and swallows you. And in it we really learn who Allison is: a gritty, rugged, loving survivor in the truest sense.

I write about violence against women, because I think it’s important and overlooked. Toto Among the Murderers takes place in the north of England in the late 70s and early 80s, when the country was shadowed by the presence of multiple serial killers. It sounds dark, right? But this is a paen to young womanhood, to the fun and freedom that can be inhabited even within the constraints of a world that, too often, allows women to be harmed. 

Abby finds herself in a miserable position. She must go home for the holidays. Normally, not a dreaded situation. After all her entire family will be there. Including her brother and his fiancé. The only hiccup is her brother’s girlfriend is her ex-girlfriend. She doesn’t trust her ex who lures her into bed every chance she gets. Abby comes of with a sure fire plan to stop that from happening, she brings a pretend girlfriend to keep things from getting out of hand. A perfect plan she just hadn’t planned on falling in love.

Sapphic historical romances are few and far between, especially ones as intelligently written and historically grounded as Olivia Waite’s. My favorite moves beyond the typical Regency ballroom setting with its slow-burn romance between two 40-something women. Penelope’s a rural beekeeper, and Agatha a London printer, one whose worrisomely politically radical son might be putting her business in danger.

I admire both the lovely writing and the intelligently grounded historical setting (the story takes place against the backdrop of the Queen Caroline affair and the post-Napoleonic repression of the English press). Above all, I appreciate Waite’s deftly crafted and utterly appealing characters, two unconventional business owners who both enjoy their work almost as much as they do one another.