Lady Knight by L-J Baker

Lady Knight by L-J Baker

Bold Strokes Books, Inc., 2007.

Overview: Lady Knight is set in a pseudo-Europe where Crusaders for a religion with four gods have to contend with the infidels’ magic swords, and Riannon, a lady knight—who is often criticized for not being much of a lady—and Eleanor, a beautiful, witty, and wealthy widow, can fall madly in love. While this book, more than any other I have read so far, doesn’t meet our criteria of books where being gay isn’t an issue, the main characters are all positive about it, including the one who has to come to terms with her sexuality, which softens the hate from the minor characters a bit.

My reaction: This was a pretty good read. I was a huge fan of the romance, which was front and center for the majority of the book, and was so desperate for them to end up happy together that I actually couldn’t make myself read the last quarter of the book for a little while. That said, the romance is really all that sucked me in. I had a problem with the religious crusade that, while engineered by a somewhat unsavory lesbian high priestess, was left essentially un-criticized. The “infidels” were basically reduced to plot devices with tattooed faces and swords that could cut through armor without even touching the victim, and while I understood that she was a product of her times, I resented Riannon’s unquestioning participation. While it annoyed me on one hand that we didn’t get much world-building detail about the history of the war between the infidels and the “not-Christians” (I read the book, but don’t really know that there was a name for the collective religion of the four gods…), it’s probably for the best in the end since what there was irritated me. More love and sex scenes than war scenes? Sure, I’ll take it! 

Thendara House by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Thendara House by Marion Zimmer Bradley.

 DAW Books, 1983.

Overview: While this is the sequel to Shattered Chain, which I read first, expecting some lesbian action (or at least main-character romance), it could probably be read as a stand-alone novel. Neither is very long, however, so I would recommend reading Shattered Chain first for the full backstory which is recapped in bits and pieces in its sequel. Magdalene Lorne, a Terran Intelligence agent, was raised on Darkover, where she was one of only a handful of Terrans immersed in Darkovan culture. In Thendara House, Magda, who became a sworn Renunciate (or Free Amazon) in Shattered Chain, goes to the Thendara Guild House to complete her six months of training. Renunciates swear an oath not to depend on men for protection, to not marry religiously, not to bear children except in her “own time and season,” to defend herself with force if attacked by force, that all women under the oath will be her sisters, and more. Even the better part of this book is more focused on Magda’s struggles with her training and her oath-mother (that is, the woman who took her oath) Jaelle’s increasing disillusionment with her partner, Peter Haldane, who also happens to be Magda’s ex-husband. Eventually, however, Magda has to come to terms with her sexuality.

My reaction: For the most part, I really enjoyed this book. Following Magda and Jaelle’s experiences of culture shock, and watching interplanetary politics unfold kept me occupied even as I wondered whether this book, too, would not qualify for a review. World-building for the sake of world-building can drive me crazy, but I love it when it is done well. While the reader learns a lot about Darkovan and Terran etiquette, habits, and mores, every detail feels well-integrated into the plot. I do wish Magda hadn’t been quite so uncomfortable with her lesbian sisters and her own sexuality, but I’ll cut her some slack since the Terran Zone is apparently pretty homophobic. I also admit that after I started really rooting for one relationship, it was a little hard at first for me to accept another one. My only other misgiving—and this is pretty major—was the demonization of men. Bradley doesn’t make all men villains, but Jaelle determines, based on her only heterosexual relationship, that men in general, not just Peter, will feel the need to “possess” her. Ugh. I know the patriarchy exists, but it’s not a biological drive! I think that she figures that out at the conclusion, but THAT squicked me out in a way that I can’t discuss without spoiling it. If you’re a fan of world-building, though, I definitely recommend it.

Crocodile Soup by Julia Darling

Crocodile Soup by Julia Darling

Originally printed by Anchor in Great Britain, 1998. Reprint by Ecco Press, an imprint of HarperCollins.

Overview: Gert, a curator of Egyptian artifacts, falls for Eva, a worker in the museum café. While Gert’s infatuation with Eva is a thread through the story, she spends most of her narrative reflecting on her childhood and estrangement from her mother.

My reaction: The first adjective I would use to describe this book would be “grubby.” Gert’s tragicomic life is full of grime, neglect, and DETAIL. I loved Darling’s writing, since she used just enough bizarre detail to create a wild picture, but didn’t bog down the story with it. This book is harder to review than others because it really does rely on the reader becoming fond of Gert and her way of seeing things rather than a cohesive, forward-driven plot. (I’m also writing this in a crowded airport as I return from a visit home…) Within a few pages, I predicted to the Lesbrarian that this would be the first “recommended” title I’d read in a while, and I am extremely happy to be right!

Murder Undercover by Claire McNab

Murder Undercover by Claire McNab

The Naiad Press, 1999

Overview: Australian Security Intelligence Organization agent Denise Cleever’s undercover assignment as a bartender on an exclusive resort island is about to get interesting. There to investigate the Aylmer family, resort owners with possible ties to a seedy underworld, Denise is floored when Roanna Alymer, the family’s only daughter, begins to take an interest in her. Can Denise infiltrate the Alymer family without blowing her cover or losing her heart?

My Reaction: Murder Undercover is a perfectly entertaining, light, fluffy and fun book and I mean that in the best way possible. It’s short enough to read in an afternoon on the beach (or when you’re trying to catch a break from writing a lengthy research paper) and the kind of fast-paced, suspenseful story that’s hard to put down. Sexuality is never an issue; Denise is out on the first page and even Roanna’s rich family has no problems with their daughter pursuing women. Though Denise’s personal life remains a large focus of the narrative, McNab never lets the mystery fall too far below the surface. Though I can’t say I was completely surprised by the ending, I enjoyed the ride that got me there. If you are looking for an enjoyable, escapist read set in an Australian paradise and staring a sexy blond detective, I have some good news for you!  

Denise Cleever Thrillers:

Murder Undercover, 1999

Murder Understood, 2000

Out of Sight, 2001

Recognition Factor, 2003

Death by Death, 2003

Murder at Random, 2005

The Daughters Trilogy by Katherine V. Forrest

The Lesbrarian is in crunch time with grad school, so I am writing a doozy of a review of this trilogy for the entertainment and edification of whoever might be out there reading. Also, it took me four hours in total to read the last book, and probably not much longer for the first two (and that’s just because reading in the lunchroom can be hard, not because they’re any longer), so it just made sense to lump them all together into one review. 

Daughters of a Coral Dawn

Originally published by Naiad Press, 1984. Reprinted by Alyson Publications, 2002.

Overview: The first few chapters of this "lesbian cult classic" (so christened by the cover of its sequel) details the genesis of half-human/half-Vernan nonuplets (Wikipedia tells me that’s a word!), and the nine girls’ development into prodigies in various fields. Of course, each girl also has the time to give birth to a healthy number of offspring, and at the point where the story really takes off, the “Unity” has just over 6,000 members in 5 generations. Since they are a brilliant and attractive lot, and have the use of Estrova, which allows two women to produce female offspring without the help of men, nothing is stopping them from abandoning Earth for coral pastures on a planet they dub Maternas. Not all of them are willing to leave, of course, but around 2/3 of them do, and successfully develop a lesbian utopia.

My reaction: This book was a light, fun read for the most part, especially in comparison to its sequels. It sounds like a pretty nice place to live in general, but while I’m into really smart and sexy ladies and enjoy reading about them, the author’s treatment of the few men who enter the storyline was a real downer. While I am fully aware that some men are super sexist or through their inaction let SuperSexists make spaces unsafe for women, the contention that it is in their nature (at least as I read it)/a utopia could never include men really irked me. Also, this book wins for the Most Unnecessary Ellipses in a Sex Scene!! *applause* It’s not like they’re used to censor it—it goes on for pages in detail! Wet moss isn’t necessarily a sexy descriptor to me, but hey! It’s a fun read-aloud…;)

Daughters of an Amber Noon

Alyson Publications, 2002.

Overview: The sequel to Coral Dawn is really more of a parallel to it, as it follows the harrowing adventures of the Unity that remained on Earth. As a result of the rise of the dictator Theo Zedera—a.k.a. Zed or Premier Supreme—who represents his worldview instead of a country as he rises to power with the help of laser fire that can precisely annihilate entire cities without the poison that accompanies nuclear weapons. The Unity develops a pretty amazing subterranean society neighboring a volcano that they engineer, and we also see maybe a few too many meetings with the Premier Supreme/thoughts of his Supreme General.

My reaction: Okay, so this one was compelling enough that when I woke up in the middle of the night I couldn’t stop worrying about it for at least half an hour. (It felt like that, anyway!) There’s just something about fighting for survival in a dystopia that gets me every time. HOWEVER (without spoiling) the conclusion really disturbed me. If the gender essentialism of Coral Dawn was too much for you (and I confess, it wasn’t for me, just because I focused on the good parts and threw the rest out with a bowl of salt), then STOP DO NOT PASS GO DO NOT READ THIS BOOK. It makes me sad to say this, because on the whole the gripping sense of danger made it a good read, but ugh, the conclusion. It was well-executed, I guess, and tied the book together, but I did not like the idea.

Daughters of an Emerald Dusk

Alyson Publications, 2005.

Overview: The Unity is reunited on Maternas, but an inexplicable tragedy has been going on for the 30 years that happened for the 3 Terran years of Amber Noon: the third and fourth generations born on Maternas have refused to speak after age two, and then leave around age five to live in the rainforest like animals. Joss, whom we meet on Earth in Amber Noon, has multi-orgasmic adventures as she discovers why.

My reaction: In my opinion, this is the strongest book of the trilogy. Riveting mystery? Check. Human drama? Check. Lots of lesbian love (and sex)? Check! It also makes you think about the ecological impact of any large group of people, even if they are extremely conscientious about taking care of their environment. It’s a little weird at times, but that really goes with the territory of most sci-fi. 

Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino

Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino

Penguin Books, 1990.

Overview: Gossamer Axe tells the story of Chairiste a woman born in sixth-century Ireland who is separated from her lover, Siudb, after seeking out new musical knowledge from the bard in what I started describing to the Lesbrarian as fairy hell. After discovering the nature of said fairy hell, Chairiste is able to use the bard’s own best harp to escape, but she does not manage to bring Siudb with her. We enter the story after Chairiste has spent two centuries plotting and occasionally attempting Siudb’s rescue, which has led her to Denver in 1987, where a portal to fairy hell awaits her assault. Through a harp student, Chairiste—who goes by Christa in modern-day Denver—discovers rock and roll and metal, and recognizes that they are her best hope for saving Siudb. As you can guess, this is a very music-driven book, so if lots of descriptions of music will bore you, this might not be the book for you.

My reaction: While I wasn’t expecting too much from this book, I was sucked right in. Two centuries of longing for and attempting to rescue a lover? I ate it right up. I’m not even a metal fan, but I was inspired to actually listen to what Baudino described as some of the more “rarefied” stuff—Malmsteen’s “Black Star” was Christa’s introduction—and discovered somewhat to my surprise that I liked it. (Here’s Malmsteen’s “Black Star”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNOa5Gjh2lc ).  I definitely giggled in a few places that I don’t think I was supposed to, and the unusual number of typos in the second half were sometimes a bit irritating, but overall I was invested in Christa’s fight to save Siudb, and supporting characters’ struggles with their own demons of homophobic/rocker-phobic parents, a sexually abusive father, and drugs. Without trying to spoil anything too badly, I was kind of upset by Christa’s apparently magical vagina which, through (in my opinion) blissfully hardly-described sex allows for the “rebirth” of a male partner. I guess I can grudgingly accept it on a re-read, though it came dangerously close to “I’ll have sex with you because I owe you” for my taste, even though he’s a good friend. On the upside, it doesn’t affect her love and devotion to Siudb in any way. If anyone has any reactions to that plotline (or any others!) I’d be happy to hear them in the comments. Despite my quarrels with it, I stayed with the musical magic/star-crossed lovers elements to the end, and if you can get into a battle-of-the-bards type novel, I recommend it!

The Fortunate Fall by Raphael Carter

The Fortunate Fall by Raphael Carter

Tor Books, 1996

Overview: In the Russian Historical Nation of the future, people don’t just use the Net, they become part of it by wiring and enhancing their bodies. Maya Andreyeva is one such wirehead, a person known as a camera who broadcasts images, thoughts and even memories to viewers at home. While broadcasting a seemingly dry historical story, Maya stumbles upon a dark secret that her government has been hiding. As she pursues the story, she discovers that she has her own secrets hidden in suppressed memories.

My Reaction:  The Fortunate Fall is a morally ambiguous story about a future where real life is the Net and not the flesh. Because there is no life outside the Net, or very little at least, people are at the will of the government or any other entity that seeks to control them. I will spill the beans here and let you know that part of the secret that Maya is hiding (or more properly, doesn’t even know she is hiding), is that she is a lesbian, but that doesn’t even touch the surface of this richly complex story. The story is ultimately one of Maya’s growing autonomy, both from the forces of history and the forces of technology.

            I enjoyed this book for many reasons, though I think it spoke to me most deeply as a cautionary tale about what can happen when a population cedes control of independent thought. The Net makes everything easy, but also is a tool for governments to shape reality however they see fit. If you are into machines, computer science or just interested in the power of virtual reality, this book has lots of great detail that moves the story along. The flavor was reminiscent of Margaret Atwood’s A Handmaid’s Tale, though with omnipresent technology that can make thought crimes easily punishable. I was a little confused by the dense technical jargon at the beginning, but after the first few chapters, I hardly noticed it anymore. Though this is a story about a wired future, it’s also a story about what it means to be human.  

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters

Riverhead Books, 1999

Overview: When Nancy Astley, an oyster-seller’s daughter, falls in love with male impersonator Kitty Butler, she is swept away from her dull ocean side life into the excitement and bustle of the late 19^th Century London music hall circuit. After her growing romance with Kitty goes south, Nancy finds her way through numerous London subcultures, from the wealthy ladies of the Sapphic underground to working-class socialists and suffragettes. Waters’ depictions of late Victorian era London provide the richly detailed historical backdrop for Nancy’s story of self-discovery and redemption.

My reaction: If you have heard of any of the books we've reviewed so far, it’s probably this one, since it seems to be on just about every “Best of Lesbian Fiction” list compiled in the last ten years. That said, there is a reason for all the hype: it’s a damn good book. The period detail is gorgeous, the writing polished, the story compelling and sexy and the characters real and complex. Nancy herself goes through numerous transformations and I found myself reading obsessively to drink up every last detail. Her story is not all smooth sailing, but the ups and downs made me want to read more, just to find out if she ends up happy. As The Bookwhisperer can attest, I kept exclaiming over various plot points and had to exert an excruciating amount of effort not to give anything important away. To stop myself from giving up any number of delicious and intriguing details, I will keep this review short. Suffice to say, if you like Victorian lesbians in snazzy suits, this is the book for you. And even if you don’t think that’s your thing (I certainly didn’t), it just might be after reading this book. 

The Child Garden: a Low Comedy by Geoff Ryman

The Child Garden: a Low Comedy by Geoff Ryman

Unwin Hyman Limited, 1989. First U.S. Edition: October 1990.

Overview: While this book certainly lives up to its subtitle with its “low” humor, the overarching tragedy of a society that made itself into a dystopia in its efforts to become a utopia transmutes the comedy into pathos. The world of Child Garden is literally sick with too much empty knowledge, as children and adults are inoculated with viruses that educate them while severely impeding their ability to learn independently. The Consensus, an organic network of nearly every citizen’s personality imprint, allows Milena Shibush, one of the few lesbians left in the world (queerness is “treated” upon entry to the Consensus), to grow up apart from it due to her resistance to the viruses. She falls in love with a Genetically Engineered Polar Woman (essentially a polar bear on the outside) who is a brilliant composer, and devotes much of her life to producing and directing her lover’s score of Dante’s Divine Comedy.  (While that is a gross oversimplification of this book, much more explanation would give away major plot-points and conclusions.)

My reaction: This is a bizarre book, in a mostly good way. I really enjoy dystopic novels in general, and this one introduced some twists on the genre. Instead of erasing the past (in the mold of Brave New World, 1984, Fahrenheit 451, etc), the Consensus is stuck reproducing the culture of the past. Actors have to replicate performances as precisely as possible until even they are bored out of their minds, viruses “teach” people to identify all available music thereby precluding a chance to enjoy it for its emotionality rather than its technical elements, and so on. It is also interesting to see a generally well-intentioned dystopic system that accidentally shortened the life-span of its subjects, killed art while trying to help everyone access it, and regrets its mistakes. The result is that the Consensus (which is distinct from the adults whom it represents/controls) becomes an object of pity for the reader, and is a fascinating and sympathetic character. In fact, I think that this complexity is one of the book’s greatest strengths, for as the reader gains more insight into its vulnerability and self-awareness, the tragedy is heightened in a way that it could not have been had the Consensus been thoroughly evil.  

While one of the more “out-there” plotlines was a little difficult for me to slog through (though I was trying to read it in a crowded lunchroom at work, which didn’t really help) for an hour or two, it was worth it for the part that it played in the amazing conclusion. In fact, I may go back and re-read that section for that reason. All told, this is definitely one of the stranger books I’ve read, but I’m glad I did.

*I teetered between "recommended" and "decent"--I guess I'll go with "recommended" for people who have a taste for both dystopias and weirdness, but for myself the "pretty good" definition attached to "decent" was more accurate.