The Politics of Love by Jen Jensen

“If I am who you want me to be,” Shelley said, “I can’t be who I am. It’s killing me.”
★★★★☆

The Politics of Love is a new, opposites attract lesbian romance novel by Jen Jensen, out today (July 14th) from Bold Strokes Books. It follows two characters – Shelley Whitmore, a closeted lesbian who is sick of hiding who she is for the benefit of her powerful Evangelical Christian Republican family, and Rand Thomas, a therapist and prominent transgender rights activist – who first meet by way of a television appearance wherein they’re placed on opposite sides of a political debate.

The romance between Shelley and Rand seemed at first like it would be fast moving, but then settled into a leisurely slow-ish burn pace for the majority of the novel. At times, the romance felt like an addendum to the larger, overarching themes of the book, but I didn’t mind that at all. I can appreciate when romance novels aim to be something “more”, and The Politics of Love does just that. I found both of the leads likable in their own way, for completely different reasons. There were absolutely a few times when I wanted to take Rand by her shoulders and shake her, but the angst felt logical, rather than unnecessarily inserted by the author to spice up the plot.

To be totally honest, after I was approved for an ARC of The Politics of Love, I began to panic. “Why didn’t I just wait and read this on my own?” I groaned to my friend via Messenger. “Politics are so divisive right now, and this book has the potential to be a PR minefield!”  

“You’re overthinking,” she replied. “Just read the book.” So I did. And I loved it, and now that it’s over, I realized the irony of the entire situation. My anxiety about reading a romance that crosses the political divide in our hyper-polarized society because of our hyper-polarized society is, in fact, peak irony. 

I suppose now is as good a time as any to mention that I myself am a Democratic Socialist, but, like Shelley, I was born and raised in the Bible Belt, and have lived here for my entire life. My mother is a Baptist Sunday school teacher. I grew up going to church multiple times per week, hearing myself damned to hell by our fire and brimstone Southern Baptist preacher. I knew I was a lesbian from fourteen on, and cried myself to sleep each night, praying to at least be bisexual instead of a lesbian, so that I’d have a chance of falling in love with a man and making my family happy. 

So, unlike some other reviewers, I went into The Politics of Love fully expecting to identify with Shelley, the closeted gay Republican, at least on a base level, and I was not disappointed. At some points, I related to her inner dialogue so much that I was practically highlighting entire pages. I would be remiss not to mention that The Politics of Love also includes really excellent anxiety representation. In addition to identifying with Shelley’s experiences with compulsive heterosexuality and repressing her sexuality for her family, the way Jensen wrote Shelley’s anxiety really rang true for me, as someone with multiple anxiety disorders.

In the end, I think a lot of my worry about this book was unfounded. After seeing a lot of negative commentary accusing the YA M/M romance The State of Us of trying to humanize the Right without expecting them to humanize the LGBTQ+ community (and that’s not even touching the issues with the racism), I feared The Politics of Love might fall prey to the same mishaps, reworked for an adult audience, but that wasn’t the case at all. It was obvious that Rand and Shelley respected and learned from each other, genuinely finding middle ground on which to build their relationship. 

Final thoughts: The word politics might be in the title, but The Politics of Love was far from a manifesto or evangelism for either side of the aisle. Instead, it was a sweet, slightly angsty romance about finding love and acceptance in unexpected places.  

Synopsis:
Is it possible to love across the political divide?

Shelley Whitmore is a successful attorney, working on behalf of her Evangelical parents’ faith-based organization, championing conservative values of individual liberty and limited government. Everything’s totally fine, except that it really isn’t. Shelley manages depression and crippling anxiety because of the secret she can never reveal: she’s gay.

Rand Thomas is a psychotherapist, transgender rights activist, and political liberal. Widowed and struggling with her wife’s toxic parents, Rand isn’t going to allow herself to love again.

When Shelley and Rand meet in Manhattan, neither one expects to find that the other is exactly who they need.

The Politics of Love At A Glance
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Themes/Tropes: Opposites Attract, Age Gap (< 10 years), Coming Out, Slow burn
LGBT Rep? Yes!
OwnVoices? Yep
Content Warnings (CWs): Non-consensual public outing, homophobia, death of family member, grief

ARC Note: Thank you to Bold Strokes Books and Netgalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

 

We Had No Rules by Corinne Manning

“Can I exist if I’m only in relation to myself?”
★★★★★

We Had No Rules is the debut short story collection from non-binary author Corinne Manning, and I’m completely obsessed with it.

I could immediately tell We Had No Rules was something special, a collection of stories I’d never want to end. By the end of the third story, I’d already ordered a paperback copy for my collection. By the seventh, I was scared to keep reading, worried I’d binge the rest of the stories in one go. In fact, I intentionally avoided finishing it for weeks because I wasn’t ready for it to be over, but, as I received an advance copy for review, I could only prolong the inevitable for so long. 

There are eleven stories in all, each fully realized and unique and messy and irreverent. Manning forces the reader to reckon with queer people as we really are – flawed, multifaceted human beings – by exploring some of humanity’s darker impulses, filtered through the perspectives of queer characters with varying LGBTQIA+ identities. The results are as unsettling as they are brilliant.

One Goodreads reviewer, Erik, summed things up perfectly: “Each story in We Had No Rules pries apart the tension that lies at the heart of queerness: in being who I am do I become like everyone else or stand out? What is the right answer?”

If I had to choose my favorite story (please don’t make me), I’d be hard pressed to decide between two of the more humorous offerings: Gay Tale and Ninety Days. 

Gay Tale begins “Oh, fuck it. I’m writing lesbian fiction. I know I’d do better to write gay fiction, or in some academic circles, queer fiction. How many people, I wonder, have stopped reading already?” and made me laugh aloud multiple times. 

Ninety Days is told from the perspective of a queer femme, and (as a femme myself) I found many of the character’s observations and sentiments to be highly relatable: “As someone assigned female at birth who presents as femme I have to make a series of conscious decisions to be visible as queer, and I still have to come out, multiple times a day.” 

I could go on, but I’d rather allow Manning’s prose to speak for itself. I highly recommend checking out We Had No Rules, especially for queer readers. It was refreshing to see the complexities of modern queerness explored so unflinchingly. It’s not an easy read, but it’s an important one.

Synopsis/Description:
“A defiant, beautifully realized story collection about the messy complications of contemporary queer life.

A young teenager runs from her family’s conservative home to her sister’s NY apartment to learn a very different set of rules. A woman grieves the loss of a sister, a “gay divorce,” and the pain of unacknowledged abuse with the help of a lone wallaby on a farm in Washington State. A professor of women’s and gender studies revels in academic and sexual power but risks losing custody of the family dog.

In Corinne Manning’s stunning debut story collection, a cast of queer characters explore the choice of assimilation over rebellion. In this historical moment that’s hyperaware of and desperate to define even the slowest of continental shifts, when commitment succumbs to the logic of capitalism and nobody knows what to call each other or themselves – Gay? Lesbian? Queer? Partners? Dad? – who are we? And if we don’t know who we are, what exactly can we offer each other?

Spanning the years 1992 to 2019, and moving from New York to North Carolina to Seattle, the eleven first-person stories in We Had No Rules feature characters who feel the promise of a radically reimagined world but face complicity instead.”

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We Had No Rules At A Glance:
Genre: Short Story Collection, LGBTQ+ Fiction
LGBTQ+ Rep? Yes! So much queer rep!
OwnVoices? Yes!
Content Warnings (CWs): Unfortunately, I was so engrossed in these stories that I forgot to keep a running list of CWs for this one. It definitely tackles some heavy, potentially triggering subjects, so read with care!

ARC Note: Thank you to Arsenal Pulp Press and Edelweiss for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner

“How novel,” she said. “This is perhaps the first time two women seen together weren’t labeled gal pals.”
★★★★☆

I knew I was either going to love Something to Talk About or hate it, with no in between. On the one hand, as a lesbian in a long term relationship with an older woman, I’m a sucker for age gap romances. I’ve loved them since I was a teenager printing Miranda/Andy (from The Devil Wears Prada) fanfiction out in my school library and racing to snag it before anyone else could see. On the other hand, I’m too impatient for most slow burns, and extended mutual angst/pining drives me up a wall. Something to Talk About has all of those things, but in the end, everything must have balanced out because I genuinely loved this book!

I binged Something to Talk About within a twenty-four hour period (oops!). To be honest, I think I would have enjoyed this book even if there hadn’t been a romance plotline (though I’m unendingly grateful there was), because I loved Jo and Emma’s dynamic from the start, even when it was still purely professional. Once the two leads began to recognize their feelings for each other, the extended, angst-ridden mutual pining was broken up by scenes with two hilarious supporting characters: Avery (Emma’s snarky but fiercely supportive older sister) and Evelyn (Jo’s pithy lifelong best friend). These scenes also provided a fun contrast between the way our leads behaved around each other vs. how they relaxed when interacting with loved ones. I’m tempted to start a petition for Wilsner to write a spin-off novel where Evelyn and Avery have to plan Jo & Emma’s wedding as the brides’ respective Maids of Honor, because it would be hilarious.

Something to Talk About was already on my radar, but my friend Dom’s Goodreads review is what finally pushed me to read it. Dom did an excellent job of addressing the concern many readers will have about a boss/employee romance novel in the #MeToo era, so rather than trying to reinvent the wheel I’m going to quote that section of their review:

“One thing that stands out to me is how this novel handles power dynamics and consent. […] This novel does deal with a definite mentor/mentee romance, but Wilsner takes great pains to navigate the situation with the imbalance in mind. At no point did I make the human facial equivalent of the unamused emoji at my pages; in fact, it was so comforting to see an interaction style I love handled in such a graceful way. Jo and Emma are both aware of the complications them deepening their relationship could cause.”

Synopsis:
A showrunner and her assistant give the world something to talk about when they accidentally fuel a ridiculous rumor in this debut romance.

Hollywood powerhouse Jo is photographed making her assistant Emma laugh on the red carpet, and just like that, the tabloids declare them a couple. The so-called scandal couldn’t come at a worse time—threatening Emma’s promotion and Jo’s new movie.

As the gossip spreads, it starts to affect all areas of their lives. Paparazzi are following them outside the office, coworkers are treating them differently, and a “source” is feeding information to the media. But their only comment is “no comment”.

With the launch of Jo’s film project fast approaching, the two women begin to spend even more time together, getting along famously. Emma seems to have a sixth sense for knowing what Jo needs. And Jo, known for being aloof and outwardly cold, opens up to Emma in a way neither of them expects. They begin to realize the rumor might not be so off base after all…but is acting on the spark between them worth fanning the gossip flames?

Final Thoughts: Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner was a fun, easy read that’s perfect for Pride or any other month of the year! I would definitely recommend giving it a chance, even if you (like me) aren’t usually a fan of slow burn romances!

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Something to Talk About At a Glance:
Genre: Contemporary Romance 
Themes/Tropes: Slow Burn, Mistaken for Dating, Mutual Pining, Age Gap (> 10 years), Mentor/Mentee (with care taken re: power imbalances)
LGBT Rep? Yep! Our two leads are Emma, who is bisexual, and Jo, a closeted older lesbian.
OwnVoices? Yes, OwnVoices queer
Content Warnings (CW): Sexual harassment

Something to Talk About paperback displayed over yellow flowers.

Note: Thank you to Berkley Publishing and Netgalley for an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey

“That’s the key to doing stuff you’re scared of. You gotta run at it.”
★★★★☆

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey is a contemporary YA fantasy with a cast of incredibly diverse, memorable characters that will stay with me for a long time.

This book promised queer witches, a sapphic romance plot, and healthy female friendships. What’s not to love? The cast of characters and their interpersonal relationships were very well developed, and the six witches were complex, fully realized individuals. Gailey also found a solid balance between being plot driven and focusing on character development, which made for a compelling and engaging story that I devoured in a single day. 

Admittedly, I did have a few gripes about this story, but they’re more about my own personal likes and dislikes than a reflection of the author or story. My main issues were with the romance plotline, because I’m not a huge fan of extended mutual pining and I largely prefer Enemies-to-Lovers over Friends-to-Lovers.  Overall, I enjoyed the book enough to order a physical copy for myself after reading the ebook via Scribd, and I still highly recommend checking out When We Were Magic!

 Synopsis:
Keeping your magic a secret is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder.

Alexis has always been able to rely on two things: her best friends, and the magic powers they all share. Their secret is what brought them together, and their love for each other is unshakeable—even when that love is complicated. Complicated by problems like jealousy, or insecurity, or lust. Or love.

That unshakeable, complicated love is one of the only things that doesn’t change on prom night.

When accidental magic goes sideways and a boy winds up dead, Alexis and her friends come together to try to right a terrible wrong. Their first attempt fails—and their second attempt fails even harder. Left with the remains of their failed spells and more consequences than anyone could have predicted, each of them must find a way to live with their part of the story.

Final thoughts: When We Were Magic is the queer witch girl gang novel we want and deserve. 

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When We Were Magic At a Glance:
Genre: Contemporary YA Fantasy
Themes/Tropes: Slow burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining
LGBT Rep? Yes! This book features multiple queer/sapphic characters of varying identities, and a slow burn f/f romance plotline.
Own Voices? Yes!
Content Warnings (CW): Death/murder (unintentional, but still), body horror