Books like The Salt Ecstasies

This book sticks the reader in the middle of a maternity ward in poverty and flu-stricken Dublin circa 1918. I was totally rooting for nurse Julia Powers, an experienced maternity nurse who works long, thankless shifts trying to keep women and their babies alive.

The lack of medicine, staffing, and money is appalling as women enter the hospital to give birth. Yet through empathy, determinism, and quick thinking, Julia, her trainee, and her patients find ways to help each other. It’s a tour de force in female friendship, intelligence, and problem-solving and an indictment of the medical incompetency of male physicians.

It illuminates a cross-section of Dublin citizens struggling with poverty, the Great Flu, and the aftermath of a horrendous war. I found the story moving, gripping, and somehow hopeful.

I read Patience and Sarah when I was coming out, and even though by then an entire lesbian community was within easy reach, it still brought me the news that I wasn’t alone. Not that I didn't already know that in an abstract sort of way, but on a gut level it was news all the same.

The book spoke to my overcharged emotions at a time when I was still isolated. It’s the only book I remember ever hugging.

Beginning with O came out in the 70s, when a feminist or lesbian poet could fill an auditorium, and often did. Broumas's poems are physical, compelling, and intelligent, like this one, which reaches for a forgotten language from a time when women were whole and unafraid of their power.

Again, let me get out of the way and quote: “I work / in silver the tongue-like forms / that curve around a throat // an arm-pit, the upper / thigh, whose significance stirs in me / like a curviform alphabet / that defies // decoding, appears / to consist of vowels, beginning with O, the O- / mega, horseshoe, the cave of sound. / What tiny fragments // survive, mangled into our language. / I am a woman committed to / a politics / of transliteration, the methodology // of a mind / stunned at the suddenly / possible shifts… show more.

Again, I’ll admit to being biased. Ida’s my partner and we’ve been together for well over 40 years, so I’ve known this book from its earliest stages. But biased or not, I haven’t lost my critical abilities: it’s good.

Kate Porter's father is the head of a right-wing militia. She's just been released from prison after her father pushed her to participate in a bank robbery and it led to a teller's death.. Now that she’s free, all she wants to do is bring down her father’s militia, reunite with the woman she loves, and get a decent meal. But a lot has changed while she was behind bars.

Twins Sam and Sam (yes, their two mums, both psychologists, did decide to give them the same name) are not quite teenagers. They both struggle with fears and friendships on the brink of high school. I love this book because the humour is so subtle but spot on, the characters are so well-drawn, and the twins’ different anxieties about an impending school trip are so relatable. The fact that Sam and Sam have two mums makes their family distinctive, and the mums’ relationship is warm and believable, but is not the main element of the story.

This book and series has everything, an enigmatic main character, an elusive serial killer, and best of all, a romantic relationship between LGBTQ+ characters that’s enviable and healthy and something to aspire to. Levi Abrams is likely my favorite character in any book I’ve ever read. He’s prickly, difficult, whip-smart, and driven, but he’s also vulnerable, genuine, and fiercely loyal. I love that I didn’t guess who the killer was in the first book (I had a theory, but I genuinely didn’t know for sure until the big reveal), and this series kept me on my toes the whole time. The writing is solid and the character development is spot on. It’s the kind of series I wish I had written myself.

This book focuses on ten-year-old Archie, as he comes to terms with his father coming out as gay. Archie’s difficulties, and some of the book’s drama, come from his dad’s inability to talk to Archie honestly and openly about what’s going on and family uncertainty resulting from the divorce, rather than any issue that Archie has with his dad being gay. My favourite thing about this book is its portrayal of LGBTQ+ community - from teenage babysitters with dyed hair to drag queens and lesbian mums - as a place that’s warm and supportive for people of all ages. This book makes being LGBTQ+ sound like a whole load of glitter-filled fun! And that gets my vote every time.  

Jordan L. Hawk took a tired kind of trope and turned it into something amazing. I love paranormal stories, but with vampires, I need to be convinced. By the end of the first chapter, Jordan had me convinced. He took an opposites-attract story, threw a cranky vampire in the middle of it, and turned it into a love story that I now cannot wait for when each new installment is published. It’s fresh, exciting, and I’m still coming back for more. Jordan’s one of my auto-buy authors, and this is one of my favorites of his series. Hands down. The characters are vivid, the adventures unique, and their love story is one for the ages. There’s nothing ordinary about this book.

This book gets triple points in my opinion, as it specifically addresses adoption by two dads who are an interracial couple. There are very few children’s books that cover all of these topics and even fewer that do it as simplistic and easy as this one. We have this one in our personal library and it has been one of our go-to books for helping our own daughter who my husband and I adopted.  

While trying to learn about gay life in the 1920s, I was delighted to find this novel, “privately” published in 1919. One soon learns that Bertram Cope, who comes to teach at an undergraduate college as he works on an advanced degree, has a relationship with another young male with whom he plans to cohabit—interesting that two men could openly set up housekeeping together, even back then. Meanwhile an older matron, an aging homosexual man, and various young women hope to attract Cope’s attention. Though seen by some as a trivial social satire, Fuller’s light touch and subtle wit mask an undertone of eroticism and homosexual associations. His anonymous, authorial, third-person narrative voice is humorous and incisive, revealing his penetrating observations of social niceties and the layers of his characters’ maneuverings. Clever and understated, the book implies much that is never declared.