Tag: Casey

Danika reviews One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston – The Lesbrary

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

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“August believes in nothing except caution and a pocketknife.”

I first have to establish that I never read Red, White, and Royal Blue. I know that everyone and their sister was raving about that book, but as you probably can guess, I tend to centre women in my reading. Also, at a certain point the hype became overwhelming. So when I picked up One Last Stop, despite the author’s reputation, I was fully ready not to like it in some sort of defiant stubbornness. Instead, I am here to tell you that this author has earned the hype.

Although I read a lot of books, this is the first read in a long time that’s completely immersed me in it. It was the kind of book where you have to shake your head when you surface, because you’ve completely forgotten that the real world exists or that time has been passing.

This is about August, a twenty-something who has recently moved to New York with no plan other than switching into a new school. She has been doing this for years–switching schools, majors, and cities without ever fully unpacking or settling down. Growing up, it was just her and her mother against a hostile world. Her mother’s brother went missing in the 70s, and her mother made it her life’s mission to find out what happened to him. August’s first word was “case.” She was raised on a diet of true crime and survival strategies. She always carries a pocketknife and never goes to a second location.

At the beginning of One Last Stop, August is looking for a cheap apartment in Brooklyn. Obviously, she doesn’t have a lot of options. She decides to move in with three weirdos despite her misgivings–one is a psychic and another is building a sculpture with frog bones. I was hooked from the first page, where their roommate notice is a) taped to a garbage can and b) reads, in part: “Must be queer & trans friendly. Must not be afraid of fire or dogs. No Libras, we already have one.” (Of course, she ends up becoming fast friends with them.) I love the quirkiness of these characters that never becomes over the top or too cutesy. As for representation, August is white and bisexual (yes, this uses the word bisexual!) and there are significant POC, queer, and trans side characters. The love interest is Chinese-American and butch!

Speaking of the love interest, this is a romance, so let’s get to the heart of it. August is on her way to her first day of class when she spills coffee on her shirt on the Q train. The aforementioned cute butch, Jane, smiles at her and gives her a scarf, and August is immediately smitten–who wouldn’t be? One of my favourite parts of the book is August daydreaming about Jane assembling a bed frame. If fantasizing about cute butches putting together furniture isn’t sapphic culture, I don’t know what is.

There’s just one problem. Jane is stuck on the subway. And has been since the 70s. Now, August has to work a new case to try to figure out how to save her crush stuck in time–even if it means she’ll never see her again.

All of the reviews I’ve seen for this book talk about how cute and delightful it is, which is fair, but it’s also got some depth and darkness to it. August feels lost and isolated. It’s the story of her beginning to make connections and put down roots, and maybe lay the knife to the side sometimes. There are family secrets, betrayals, and tragedies. While this is a love letter to New York, it’s also a celebration of queerness, found family, and community. We get to see what Jane’s experience was like, growing up in the 70s as a butch punk Asian lesbian. The Stonewall Riots were not history for her. It explores queer history in New York and uplifts what queerness looks like there now–including some very memorable drag nights.

It’s also sexy and romantic. August and Jane have an almost supernatural connection. Jane has forgotten most of her life, and together they try to regain her memories, usually through recreating elements of her past. August brings her endless coffee order and snacks to try to find one that sparks a memory. They have great banter–in fact, the quippy dialogue is a strength in this novel overall. Even as they get closer, Jane’s situation pulls them apart. Even if they can find a way to reverse this situation, will Jane stay here or go back to her time? Which does she want? They have undeniable chemistry and there are some seriously steamy scenes. (Content warning for semi-public sex.)

I am fully on board the Casey McQuiston train (puns!), and I highly recommend you come along. This was a 5 star read, and one I look forward to rereading. It’s a sexy, romantic celebration of queerness and New York. Believe the hype.

One Last Stop comes out June 1st.

Science Fiction and Fantasy from Transgender Writers edited by Cat Fitzpatrick and Casey Plett – The Lesbrary

Science Fiction and Fantasy from Transgender Writers edited by Cat

Meanwhile, Elsewhere cover

Science fiction shows us worlds of great technological advances and sweeping social changes. It shows us worlds similar to ours where a few fundamentals have changed, or lands beyond the stars vastly different to our own. But it does not always show us what it is like to be trans or queer in those worlds.

Meanwhile, Elsewhere compiles 25 stories from trans writers in a contemporary anthology so amazing that I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I put it down.

Each story has a trans protagonist and often queer/lesbian/sapphic relationships are a significant point, though not always. Sometimes those relationships are just in the background, but they’re still as vital to the characters in making them who they are. Sometimes a character is just a lesbian in passing, but the narrator isn’t part of that relationship. This collection affirms so many ways to be queer and interact with other LGBTQIA+ people in our communities and around us. It’s a delight to read.

“What Cheer” is a soft, half-sad but half-hopeful story about being with yourself (who sort of isn’t yourself) for a day. “Delicate Bodies” is a darkly humourous take on coming to terms with one’s body and getting over your exes during a zombie outbreak. “Satan, Are You There? It’s Me, Laura” deals with its surreal events in a matter of fact way that it takes you along for the ride. “Heat Death of Western Human Arrogance” is a love story between an alien and her lover dealing with their very different paths through life.

There really is something for everyone. And it all feels incredibly thoughtful, gripping and honest, with each writer in the anthology contributing a unique voice and prose style. Nothing feels same-y and, with the massive variety of stories, there isn’t a weak link in the bunch.

Of course, queer sci fi isn’t entirely new. The lesbian vampire novel Carmilla was written in the 1800s, and Melissa Scott has been writing LGBTQ sci-fi since the 1980s. As television and movie visibility for queer characters in these genres increases, so does the variety of stories we are able to tell, experience and see ourselves in. Meanwhile, Elsewhere contributes something of excellent quality to this list.

For anyone who is some flavour of queer and is feeling underrepresented in this genre, for anyone who wants to read more work with a non-cis, non-straight, non-male protagonists, for anyone who simply wants more science fiction with a refreshing variety… read this book.

Rating: *****

Carolina reviews One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston [Out June 1, 2021] – The Lesbrary

Susan reviews The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

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Casey McQuiston’s first novel, Red, White and Royal Blue, changed the new adult literary romance genre with its compelling love story of the prince of England and First Son, cementing queer stories’ places on bestseller lists, bookstore shelves and the general public’s hearts. Their follow up, One Last Stop, lives up to all the hype surrounding the release and surpasses it, crafting a beautiful romance in the heart of New York City, all tied up in that beautiful pastel cover.

August rides the Q Train to and from her minimum wage job at a local pancake restaurant as she wades through her senior year of college and comes to terms with what lies ahead in her future. One day, she locks eyes with a kind, handsome butch named Jane Su on the train and falls in love with this stranger’s gentle kindness and fierce devotion to her fellow commuters. After a series of casual conversations, August realizes Jane’s vintage protest pins and Walkman aren’t just a commitment to a retro aesthetic; she has become unstuck in time from the 1970’s and is doomed to ride the train in 2020 for the foreseeable future. August decides to help Jane go back to her own time, trying every Groundhog Day style idea they can think of, falling in love all the while. Can August let Jane go back to her own time, losing the girl of her dreams, or can they find a happy medium?

One Last Stop was a delightful page turner, chock-full of McQuiston’s signature laugh-out-loud dialogue and biting wit. They’re able to pinpoint the pulse of New York City’s magic, and the hidden gems and mom-and-pop shops that make the city so special, warning against the insidious gentrification plaguing the city and turning special oases into yet another Starbucks. Not only is this novel a love letter to a city, but it’s also an ode to the mixed-up magic of a twenty-something discovering themselves, and the different kinds of love we make and find that last a lifetime. One Last Stop is a microcosm into your early 20’s, complete with every late-night roommate conversation, every doubt and regret and hope for your future, and every heated glance with a hot subway stranger, filling the gap in the literary market for people in their early to mid-20’s.

It also stresses the importance of queer friendship, community and history. August’s roommates are a fun, ragamuffin bunch of queer individuals sharing a space and a life with each other, there to the bitter end. Jane devotes herself to preserving the memory of her gay friends in the past, and making sure the world she and her friends fought for does not forget their contributions. Jane offers a window into little-known facets of gay history, focusing on the role of Asian-American leaders in the gay liberation movement, and on the much-overlooked Upstairs Lounge fire in New Orleans.

One Last Stop is part campy time travel comedy, part sexy romance, part lesson in queer history, part murder mystery, and part coming of age story. This gem of a novel will stay with readers for a long time after the last page, leaving a lingering scent of sugary pancake syrup and a feeling of nostalgia and rightness.

Thank you for the publisher and Edelweiss for the advanced copy!

Trigger warnings: homophobia, racism

Casey A reviews The Prom by Saundra Mitchell – The Lesbrary

Casey A reviews The Prom by Saundra Mitchell – The

The Prom by Saundra Mitchell

In October 2018, The Prom premiered on Broadway. It was a musical inspired by real events with a great deal of glitter thrown on top, and I was one of the people lucky enough to see the original cast on Broadway, because a good friend surprised me with tickets on my trip. The musical was fantastic, but sadly had a much shorter run than deserved, but it’s a book now, and we can all bask in its glory. The book is adapted from stage by Saundra Mitchell. Obviously the stage show has coloured my reading of the book, much like when you watch a film adaptation and you know all the bits they missed out. So I’m going to keep the comparisons vague to avoid spoilers, but I will still reference the show in my reading.

The story is set in Edgewater, Indiana, where our narrator Emma Nolan, informs us that it is a bad idea to be gay. Heads up, homophobia is a very presiding theme in this story, so if you are looking for a cute romance with no obstacles or politics, this may not be your read. Emma’s story preceding the book has been a difficult one, all too familiar to a lot of queer readers, but sadly a story that still must be told. The second narrator is Alyssa Greene, love interest, student body president, and perfect daughter to the overbearing leader of the PTA. The tension in the story all revolves around the fact that out and proud(ish) Emma would dearly like to go to prom with her closeted girlfriend. The PTA gets in the way, Broadway actors find out about the scandal and try to help. All hell breaks loose.

I’m torn over the structure of the book. On the one hand, I really enjoy swapping between Alyssa and Emma’s narratives, and this structure actually gives Alyssa a lot more agency and power than she has in the show. However, there are glimpses of scenes which exist on stage that they had to cut due to a lack of POV character, and are mentioned as asides, which make little sense. It’s a bit like only watching half of a crossover episode and wondering what you missed out on. The Prom is a nice short read, clocking in at just over two-hundred pages, so I think it might have made more sense to either expand to allow more points of view, or simply axe some of those asides altogether and focus on the main plot. The weirdest of these is perhaps that the book opens with reference to a broadway show flopping, and then doesn’t allude to this at all for about fifty pages. It makes a lot more sense by the end, but I personally think that the articles which serve as prologue and epilogue detract a little from the main narrative and are really only there for fans of the show.

The tone of the book is inescapably teenage highschooler. It’s a YA novel adaptation and it knows it. Pop culture references are abound, and if you aren’t up to date on your American High School slang (I am not), you might find yourself rereading a few sentences. But for the most part, I found the pop culture references hilarious and engaging. Emma’s narrative has a sarcastic and witty snap to it which is delightful to read even when things are going wrong. It also spans a decent range from memes, music, and tv, as well as inevitably a large number of broadway shows. This book genuinely made me laugh out loud on multiple occasions, and it’s chock full of genuinely wise quotes about homophobia, acceptance, and life in general.

(This bit is only about differences to the show, so if you aren’t already a fan, be ready for spoilers.) Firstly, there are some great little cast easter eggs in the names of the characters, some very obvious and some quite sneaky. The words of many (if not all) of the musical numbers have also made it into the writing one way or another, with several of them providing a lot of backbone to the plot, and others acting as throwaway lines which maybe don’t quite work. As I’ve already alluded to, the broadway characters don’t get a point of view. Dee Dee and Barry are still in it, but Trent and Angie have been axed entirely (despite the cast of Godspell still being present). Dee Dee really is turned into a caricature of what was already a largely than life character, but Barry somehow manages to retain depth and dignity, despite soaking up most of Trent’s role in the narrative.

Seeing the show and then reading the book definitely changed my reading of the book, and I’m very interested to know what others think who haven’t read it. From an adaptation standpoint, I thought it was a very cute read, with a lot of power, which overall took the narrative from a new angle and made sure we got more of the love interest’s side of the story. I would recommend this book highly to people who have seen or know the show, and and anyone who just wants a nice triumphant story about love against all odds.

Casey A. reviews Pulp by Robin Talley – The Lesbrary

Susan reviews The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia

Pulp by Robin Talley cover

This is not a pulp fiction book. This is a book which understands how to take a genre and perfectly shine a mirror upon it. I’m genuinely surprised by how much I enjoyed it, as sometimes historical fiction (particularly American historical) can be far more concerned with the context of the time than how any of the characters are feeling or growing. Robin Talley seems to know this, and she writes characters who are flawed and conflicted, knowing when they need to grow and when they need to hold true to themselves.

Pulp has a two protagonist structure, alternating between the points of view of two lesbian high school seniors: Abby’s in 2017 and Janet’s in 1955. Where a lot of books try to obscure their contemporary protagonist into the vague “now” timeframe, Talley leans heavily into the political and social landscape of 2017, making even the contemporary chapters into a period piece themselves, which I think will age well. The comparison between the two eras is compelling and complex, and a large part of what kept me reading. 1955 is painted as a cold and harsh environment for queer people and people of colour alike, whereas the 2017 chapters serve to remind us how far we have come but how much we also still must do.

The pacing of the book was awkward to begin with. As a reader with ADHD, I struggled with Abby’s inner monologue jumping around over the top of dialogue, and found myself going back half a page at a time to catch the flow of conversation. However, this seemed to improve when I was only a few chapters in, and the quality of the Janet scenes made up for it until then. Throughout the plot, the two character’s are slowly woven together by their self discoveries, love of writing, reading, and most of all, pulp fiction.

Talley obviously wrote this book with a keen awareness of the need to be intersectional with her politics and diverse with her cast. The protagonists are White Catholic and Jewish, and the supporting characters span a range of racial backgrounds, sexual orientations and genders. I was pleasantly surprised to find a character using they/them pronouns! It’s seems to be written from a solid grounding in internet culture and fan fiction, so at times Abby’s point of view can come across as a little contrived, but in a way that I don’t think audiences who read a lot of YA fiction will mind much. If you are into fan fiction theory, transformative works, or metafiction, then this is certainly a good read for you.

I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to know more about the roots of queer culture but I would exercise caution for those who are emotionally affected by the current political climate in the USA The book is very educational, even including things I didn’t know as an activist, but also leans heavily on protest culture in 2017 and can hit a bit close to home sometimes. I will say that if you should be looking for a satisfyingly hopeful book, I think you have found it. Robin Talley, to my mind, has very shrewdly shown us that however awful things may seem right now, they will get better because we will make them so.

Casey is a non-binary bookseller and writer, a sometime poet and an all-the-time queer. Their favourite genre is usually sci-fi / fantasy, but they can be found reading kids books and angsty YA whenever the mood strikes. Most of their reads are for audiobooks because they have ADHD and printed text is not their friend. They recently attempted to start a bookstagram which you can find here @know.thy.shelf