Books like The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester — picked by fans

Corinne Duyvis is autistic, and so is the narrator for this book, Denise. Unsurprisingly, given she shares the disorder, Duyvis has absolutely nailed this aspect of the character. As an autistic person myself, Denise feels relatable to me in a way that few fictional protagonists do. 

While other characters in the book struggle to understand her, her habits and mannerisms frequently make me say, “Hey! That’s like me!” Nothing beats having that experience with a character, and the book’s story, which sees Denise use her unique talents to attempt to secure a place for her family on a generation ship fleeing from catastrophe on Earth, is well-crafted and gripping throughout. 

This book is about Aza Holmes, a character who struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder. While I don’t personally have OCD, this book helped me understand what it’s like. Aza’s anxious thoughts are so well-described that they made me feel anxious by proxy. That’s something only a master can pull off.

The plot sees Aza attempting to solve what happened to a childhood friend’s missing father, but to me, it is less about that external struggle and more about Aza’s internal struggle with her own mind. And it portrays that struggle as well as I’ve ever seen it done. 

As someone who’s moved around a LOT and lived far from family most of my life, I’m a sucker for found family of any kind.

This story is one of the best. I loved reading about all these demi-god children working together and finding their connection through loyalty and depth of friendship.

As someone very familiar with Greek mythology, I really enjoyed the fresh and enjoyably new story with familiar players. 

Unlike Corinne Duyvis and Maya MacGregor, Elizabeth Moon is not autistic, but she based this protagonist, Lou Arrendale, on her son, who is on the spectrum. Not only is Lou an excellent and well-realized character, but this book also brilliantly tackles a subject that has long been a point of conversation in the autism community—a cure for autism.

In the book, a cure has been developed, and Lou must take it or risk losing his job. Lou, however, doesn’t want to give up being who he is. This is how most people in the autism community, like myself, view the concept of a cure. I appreciate how Speed of Dark argues for that position, celebrating autism as a unique difference in brain wiring rather than a defect. 

I never heard a more harrowing story of the closet and coming out.

There was no bullying, rape or damnation to hell in Andrew Tobias' childhood. He was a high-achieving, good-looking son of an affluent family in cosmopolitan New York who came to adulthood in the anything-goes sixties. He realized he was homosexual at age 11—then never allowed himself to tell a soul, or have sex (even with himself) until 23. When he finally, tentatively, began to own being gay, he remained twisted up by stereotypes of masculinity and queerness.

Paradoxically, because he was afraid of it, his saga gives a colorful rendering of gay culture around 1970. (And I happen to know that he eventually found self-acceptance, love, and a prominent, honored role in gay politics.)

Thirty-five years after this book was published, I still smile thinking of it and the first time I read it in 1991.

It was/is a laugh-out-loud farce and was an inspiration to me to read gay and straight comic characters written so effortlessly.

Every so often, I check to see if Joe Keenan has another novel in the works, as he has written only three. I’ll be the first in line to buy a copy. 

This was only published way after Forster’s death–and I can quite see why: it would have whipped up a storm of unimaginable controversy with its story of homosexual love between two Cambridge students and then (steady yourself!) one of those students in later life and a rough-and-ready groundsman.

Forster wrote this in 1913/14, revised it in the 1930s and again in the 1950s, died in 1970, and Maurice finally appeared in 1971. So the book, which concerns hiding, was deeply hidden for over half a century. Forster is sentimental in terms of love and brutal in terms of fate.

Love bucks polite society’s norms in the face of the danger of arrest, public scandal, and disgrace. But such love is so delicate and dangerous that any affront to it has to be met with the most decisive action to protect everyone involved–even if the price is loneliness and a life-long… show more.

A thinly fictionalized account of a young male prostitute based on the life of the writer. This was written years before Stonewall, yet presents an unflinching portrayal of the range of male sexual desire that would be cutting edge even today. No excuse is given for sexual activity that most would see as peculiar because the author makes clear that, in his estimation, none is required. He never says as much, but it can be inferred from every line on every page.

I especially love how he can describe men who are utterly insensitive and emotionally shut down, and what you take away from it is how sensitive and emotionally boiling they are.

This book arrives with a profound introduction on "writing ourselves into being," and casts a crucial gaze on writing from the margins.

It invites the reader to engage with difference, whether the difference is queer or skin colour or cultural heritage or whichever form of diversity. Contributors share with the reader their art, craft, and lived experience, where "writing oneself in," as Octavia Butler did, is fundamental self-creation, snatching space that has been stolen or withheld.

This anthology of personal truths, as authors unskin to their innermost selves, is as startling as it is introspective.

Written from the perspective of one of the victims of the infamous 2001 Queen Boat scandal, when 52 men were arrested and put on trial in Egypt during a raid on a gay party, In the Spider’s Room is an intense depiction of living in a society that fears and rejects any form of queerness. Unflinching, claustrophobic, and suffocating, Abdelnaby does not shy away from exploring what happens when one is presented with no avenues for expressing their desires and sense of self.