Books like The Winter Knight — picked by fans

Anna-Marie McLemore’s prose is so poetic and elegant that I sometimes reread sentences just because they have such a beautiful cadence to them.

This book is a reimagining of “Snow White and Rose-Red” with elements of Swan Lake and Latinx folklore.

Everything McLemore writes is magic, but this story weaves together everything I love about their work: magical realism, velvety descriptions, and fairy tales cracked open in new ways to shed light on racial and gender politics.

I love the complicated, loving relationship between the two sisters, and I love that the boy Blanca falls in love with has a complicated relationship with gender that is in part inspired by McLemore’s transgender and non-binary husband.

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.

I started this book on a plane, continued to read in my seat after the plane landed, and was seriously annoyed at the flight attendant when forced to deplane. This is one of those books with a simple twist on the fantasy genre I wish I’d thought of—a race of beings who subsist on eating books.

Dean’s world building is superb, the protagonist is a badass, and the portrayal of the fractured relationships among characters—especially with her son—complicated and relatable. I finished it (in a chair at the airport) in one sitting, and it was worth it. 

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.

Fairy-tale retellings are my favorite subgenre, and this book hit every right note for me. I loved the incorporation of stories, known and unknown to me, with art so beautiful there are days I pick this book up just to marvel at it.

The last one brought tears to my eyes, a feat that doesn’t happen often, superseded only by the end of the novel. I cannot recommend it enough.    

It’s hard to pick just one of Jim Colucci’s books to put on this list, but this one is probably my favorite. (He’s also written excellent books about The Golden Girls and Will & Grace, among other topics.)

It’s an incredible insider’s look at the making of one of the most important television programs ever made, with lots of original documents, interviews with creators, and insights that yield an even greater appreciation for this groundbreaking show.

I was privileged to read this book as chair of a book prize committee, a book which we shortlisted given its fantastic contribution to queer IR and conflict research.

Hagen, Ritholtz, and Delatolla have brought together a diverse collection of chapters that “tell the stories of LGBTIQ+ people in conflict not only as victims of political violence, but also as experts and agents of change." 

I particularly enjoyed the chapters on the visual as queer method (Cooper-Cunningham) and queering the politics of knowledge in conflict research (Serrano-Amaya).

What a gift to read this carefully curated collection that not only spotlights queer lives in conflict but also amplifies the voices of queer scholars from diverse backgrounds who contributed to this important book.

This is one of the best books of redemption I've ever read, about a man who did some truly horrible, some would say unforgivable things, and has been working hard the past several years to make amends for his wrongs, a journey he continues even as he meets the man who just might be the love of his life. All this in a beautifully built fantasy world, and while it is book two in the series it stands on its own just fine. When it comes to tales of redemption and forgiveness, though, of facing a sordid past and working to overcome it, this book continues to set the bar for me.

Holiday Fauxmance—i.e., fake dating for the holidays—is a peppermint-scented novella catnip for me. Sasha’s family can be a bit much over her being single, which she knows comes from a good place but is relentless, so she makes up a girlfriend, which works until her eldest sister tries to call her bluff and dares her to bring her “girlfriend” home for the holidays.

Enter neighbor Kennedy, who is beautiful, available, and—bonus—she’s also an actress and in need of a gig. This book is sweet and cute and the couple drew me in from the start, and I can’t express how much I loved the low-angst content. Their connections came from genuine emotions coming out of the pretending and the scene where they eventually come clean about the deception. I could not stop laughing.

Look, if this book had been around when I was in middle school, it would have been a game changer (pun absolutely intended). This book has it all: lesbian-enemies-to-the-middle-school-equivalent-of-lovers, heart-pounding descriptions of soccer, complex family dynamics, and fraught friendships! Yes, all of those trope-y pieces might feel like a delightful, frothy treat, but this book packs a real emotional punch.

The dual point-of-view gives readers the chance to understand the complex relationship between Mel and Tory—and fall in love with both characters! Becker also sprinkles in some great conversations about self-expression. Beware: this is a read-in-one-sitting kind of book!