Or: queer genre fiction that is not fantasy!
Can I just say thanks to whoever has been promoting my last rec post on Twitter? Someone’s responsible for a major boost in blog traffic. I hope my thoughts on queer genre fiction are useful to readers in want of good reads.
As you may know, I’m primarily – at least in long-form prose writing – a fantasy/spec fic writer. I’ll write all kinds of things in short form, as I hope Crooked Words attests to, and I have been accused by Ian Irvine Hobbson of writing grungy realist literature. (I know, right?) I’m giving feature-length contemporary screenplays a shot, but when it comes to long-form prose, I write fantasy, and I can’t see that changing. My literary references are all fantastic: I grew up on Narnia, was given The Lord of the Rings by my mother at fifteen (I own vintage 1970s Allen and Unwin editions of the trilogy and The Silmarillion, the latter of which I have read as many times as the former) and spent the next seven or eight years throwing myself headlong into anything speculative I could get my hands on. These days I read all sorts of things both from a need of representation and having refined my palate due to being quite widely read in the genre, which might explain the side trips into realist grunge, but I am always going to be coming back to fantasy as both a creative and a reader.
(Actually, I write grungy realist fantasy, too. When I say that I wrote my novel about leads with mental illness, I mean leads with mental illness and not the usual light touch that passes for it. Oscar, anyone?)
However, in the quest for representation, I will read anything, and this post is about the anything.