100 books like The Low Road

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). 

I am a sucker for any and all sapphic romance but throw in two main characters that are individually powerful before they find love...and I’m done. Stars Collide got to me, folks, and not just for its portrayal of strong female leads.

This book sticks with me because of its thoughtful description of an older woman discovering her sexuality. It challenges the idea that all people are able to define their orientation early in life and allows older people to question their sexuality, despite any past romantic relationships (even, gasp, the infallible institution of marriage!). 

I picked this one up on the recommendation of a friend, and was she ever spot-on. I loved the empathetic narrator and her distinctive voice, as well as the heartfelt relationship between the two witches. But there was also something eminently cozy about the reading experience. Maybe it was the small-town setting, maybe it was the Happily Ever After. It read like a spicy chai—and that’s the perfect beverage to sip on while spending a few rainy afternoons with Emmy and Talia. 

Ah, The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry delighted me and made me laugh from the first page. It’s radically funny and inexorably inventive. Best of all, it follows a protagonist who doesn’t know how great she is—who thinks she’s kind of terrible, really—and it takes a newfound community of friends and fellow wizard ladies to reflect back to her a new opinion of herself. The language is Dickensian (only better!) in its wit and flexibility. It abounds in amazing female characters. And while there’s a fun romance, it’s the friendships that get me in my sticking place. I just wanted to hug this book when I finished. I wanted to have written it. I’m glad Waggoner did instead.

I try to limit the amount of physical books I purchase because my apartment is already overflowing with them. But there are some books so good, I need a copy of my own—The Weight of the Stars is one of those. Told in short, micro-fiction style chapters is the story of Ryann, a girl who dreams of traveling to space but doesn’t see a way out her trailer park on the “wrong” side of town. But then she meets Alexandria, a mysterious loner who is angry at the world because her own mother is an astronaut who volunteered for a one-way trip to the edge of the solar system. Lush and heartbreaking, this queer, big-hearted book cemented Ancrum as one of my must-read authors.

If you identify anywhere on the LGBTIQ2+ scale and haven’t heard of Sarah Waters, you’ve likely been living under a rock.

Her debut novel, Tipping the Velvet, is probably better known as the three-part BBC series, but the book is what truly makes the characters come to life. From naïve, small town, oyster-girl in Kent to the life of the London Stage, Waters takes you through Victorian-era England via the point of view of beloved heroine Nan Astley.

If you’re looking for a sexy, sensuous, and downright gritty novel about what life was truly like for a ‘tom’ growing up and coming out in the nineteenth century, this is the book.

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.

This graphic novel which was first serialized on the platform Webtoons, takes place in the near future. People are able to alter their physical appearance using new technology. Most people do use it, except for some who have “Egan’s Syndrome” which means they are too sensitive to modify their bodies in this way.

Sunati finds herself attracted to Austen, a young woman who lives her life “unmodded”. It’s actually a very sensitive love story told with some really stunning artwork.

I can’t name what so destroyed me about this book; it speaks to a level of pain for which there’s no language.

I believe a book’s hidden subject will chase a writer down: a fear, a state of mind. Barnes had to write it in order to survive her experience.

A loose group of outcasts appears in Nightwood: a gay doctor, logorrheic, poetic, desperate, witty, alone. A woman obsessed with another woman whom has left her and whom she’ll never reach, never understand.

Dancers and circus performers all in the baroque shimmer of a prose so fascinating it becomes clear almost by virtue of its density. What comes through is the tragedy of what it is to be alive.

This memoir is like a kaleidoscope: each time I re-read it from a new vantage point in my life, I see different colours.

Ariel Levy writes with brutal bravery about a series of personal losses. She brings a candid and unconventional perspective to marriage and motherhood, career and aging, and ultimately our inability to truly control our circumstances.

I think the heart of what this book tells me is: surrender is not synonymous with giving up.  It’s deeper and more hopeful than that. Surrender is learning that power and resilience come from gratitude and acceptance, even in the face of hardships.