june: pride month

Just because Pride Month is over, doesn't mean we should stop celebrating authors who identify as LGBTQ+ or their books containing queer characters and themes!

So, here are all the ones I read this Pride. Let me know in the comments or @jstodtv on Twitter and Instagram which ones you've recently read/currently reading/your favourites/if you're a queer author yourself - you can never have enough!

For now...

The Way It Breaks by Polis Loizou

Author’s sexuality: Bisexual

Representation: Bisexual, gay

I pre-ordered this back in December, and maybe I’m biased because Polis is a fellow WriteNow buddy, but it was worth the wait.

Although I’ve been following the hype up to its release, I’ll admit (sorry, Polis!) I didn’t really know what it was about except that it was set in Cyprus, Polis’ birthplace. But I’ll say now that not knowing much about the plot or setting only enhanced my experience.

After only a couple of chapters, I found myself relating to a character I didn’t think I’d have anything in common with. Not only that but the things I resonated with aren’t often explored, in my reading experience, in fiction written by male-identifying authors such as body image.

As someone who suffers from BDD (Body Dysmorphic Disorder - “a mental health condition where a person spends a lot of time worrying about flaws in their appearance... [which] are often unnoticeable to others”), Orestis’ inner struggle with his weight and appearance painfully relatable. But I’m also thankful to Polis for portraying this even if he didn’t mean to because I feel like body image is rarely discussed in relation to men. So, even if he’s fictional, simply seeing Orestis go through this might reassure a reader going through the same that they’re not alone or mad and, who knows, may even help them open up.

In the novel, Orestis lets the voice in his head and comments from friends and family get to him. He believes he needs to lose weight to be attractive, so he goes to the gym and embarks on a successful journey of self-improvement.

I don’t think Polis, who works out himself, is telling us, the reader, to follow in his footsteps. After all, there’s another character in The Way It Breaks who is proud and confident of her size despite her stepmother’s judgment and knows she’s sexy.

No, Polis is just showing us one possible option of settling that voice in your head. Orestis didn’t need to change anything, especially not to please other people, but he did it to make himself feel better, and I think Polis would agree with me that’s what we should take away. That we should find what works best for ourselves and fuck what anyone else says.

Beyond this, I shared nothing in common with Orestis or the other characters in the novel. I’m a Brit who’s lived in Manchester all his life, and sure, I’ve been on holidays here and there, but only in touristy locations. I’ve never truly experienced another country. However, The Way It Breaks dropped me right into a foreign culture and showed me what it’s like to be on the other side.

There are British people, Brexiteers, who complain they’re losing their way of life due to immigrants. They expect these people, who often don’t have a choice to come here and work in the service industry or as doctors, nurses, health care workers - jobs that make our lives easier - to “speak our language” (don’t even get me started on the irony there). Then they will go on holiday, where again they assume everyone speaks English, to be waited on with stuff they could easily get back at home.

This novel puts you in the shoes of what it’s like to have your country colonised and your culture appropriated, commodified and erased. For many, this is sadly just a thing. For me, a privileged white cis straight-passing Brit boy, I have no idea what that’s like, but Polis gave me a clue.

I’m fully complicit in the crap the book explores, by the way. I guess I’ve never really considered Greece and Cyprus as nothing more than a holiday destination. And even though I know about the gods and I’m aware it’s the birthplace of philosophy and the very art form I love, my knowledge is only basic.

So, reading this by a friend who’s had the life experience made me realise I’m an uncultured fuck who needs to read more broadly and actually practice what he preaches about diversity. But just to be a hypocrite, do read books by authors different to you. Seriously, it’ll surprise you how much you’ll find in common. I always find the more specific a story is, the more universal. You might not think the story of a gigolo working at a hotel in Cyprus is something you’d relate to but trust me; you will.

The Way It Breaks opened my eyes whilst simultaneously fluttering them in surprise. Some twists kept me on my toes, and I couldn’t put it down. Plus, there are shifts in perspectives I didn’t expect that allow you to hear everyone’s side of the story and, therefore, change your opinion. You might start the book disliking one character, then feel your heartbreak for them by the end. I think that’s because all the characters are flawed the same way everyone is (and if you disagree, you need to check yourself).

Polis’ poetic prose is sparkling with gorgeous imagery that will transport you to the sea and all its wonders. I’m so envious of his ability to describe vividly. I had a visceral, vicarious experience of all the characters’ senses. It’s not often you can say a book made you hungry, horny and hurt your heart all at once, but Polis but The Way It Breaks achieves this with mesmerising ease. A perfect book for your summer holiday.

P.S. And I know you’re wondering where’re the queer elements? Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you, but I promise you it’s in there with all its complex glory.

Order your copy of The Way It Breaks however, and wherever you buy your books from here, but preferably Waterstones, who should be honoured to have Polis as one of their booksellers!

And if you enjoy this one, make sure to read his debut, Disbanded Kingdom, which is next on my list.

Kate In Waiting by Becky Albertalli

Author’s sexuality: Gay

Representation: Gay, bisexual

Another home-run from the queen of YA romcoms! Becky Albertalli, my favourite author by far, just has a way of speaking to my soul through teen romances. Maybe it’s because I’m getting further and further away from being a teen myself and her work hits the spot for my nostalgia? I mean, she absolutely nails the high school experience, how intense and important everything feels, from school to crushes.

This is familiar territory, there are cliches aplenty, and the twists aren’t surprising, but I come to YA and Becky’s books for that exact reason. It’s like comfort food, my happy place. And anyway, she keeps it fresh with the premises and seamlessly diverse cast of characters she incorporates.

In just 400 pages, Becky makes you care deeply about everyone you’re supposed to, and you’re left with fuzzy feelings. I honestly don’t have much to say critically other than to Becky’s critics, to which I say, back off, what has she ever done to you? And to her, I say, as a fellow bisexual, I accept you, and I thank you for continually blessing the world with such wholesome stories. Never stop.

They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera

Author’s sexuality: Gay

Representation: Gay, bisexual

It’s not spoilers to say the title warns you what happens, but it doesn’t prepare you to fall in love as much as you do with the main characters.

I’ve had my eye on this one for a while (especially after’s Silvera collaboration with Becky Albertalli on the glorious What If It’s Us and upcoming Here’s To Us), and it did not disappoint. Especially on the reason behind the title.

This book is tragic and heartbreaking but also life-affirming and hopeful. It explores the Five Stages of Grief without ever explicitly mentioning them and what it means to live.

It could easily just stick to the POV of the two main characters but jumps around a lot to demonstrate the scale of its concept and how far-reaching the effect of one life is on others.

Coming out is cleverly tied to the overarching philosophical and existential themes and is ultimately very much still a YA love story at its core.

Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

Representation: Gay, bisexual

Not to harp on about Becky Albertalli, but you will definitely like this if you like her work, notably Simon vs the Homosapiens Agenda.

And I promise I didn’t plan to link all these reviews, the books just happened to have crossover, but Gonzales’ sophomore novel also shares themes of death with They Both Die At The End. But rather than the protagonist facing his fate, it focuses on how a teenager deals with loss and grief for the first time.

This one hit home for me, and I think it’s crucial YA deals with such things as, unfortunately, it’s a part of growing up and reading about it reassures teens they’re not alone.

Although Only Mostly Devastated is a sweet and uplifting story with a range of representation, I admire how Gonzales treats her audience like young adults. She isn’t shy to explore the hard realities of growing up, from relatives passing away to losing friends and coming out. She’s one to watch.

Ripley Under Ground by Patricia Highsmith

Author: Lesbian

Representation: Possibly gay/bisexual

For my last Pride review, I thought I’d look to the past for more subtle representation by probably the greatest crime writer of all time.

This is the second instalment in the Tom Ripley series, and even though he’s not explicitly queer, there are enough signs. I mean, there’s this quote from Talented Mr Ripley - “I can’t make up my mind whether I like men or women, so I’m thinking of giving them both up”.

The consensus is he’s bisexual because despite getting married in Ripley Under Ground, Tom spends the first two books obsessed with men he outright admits are attractive and experiencing gay-panic in their presence.

I could write an entire essay about how Tom’s abusive childhood (the aunt who brought him up frequently called him a “sissy”) meant he repressed his sexuality the same way Patricia Highsmith hid hers, but I believe the coding is self-evident.

Also, it’s fair to argue that because Tom is a serial-killing conman (you know, pretending to be what he’s not, eh?), it associates queerness with villainy, but I don’t think this is a negative portrayal. All of Tom’s actions are rooted in character; he just happens to be a sociopath. But what’s wrong with a queer antihero? We can be complex. Just because a fictional character is one way doesn’t mean we are all. And anyway, Tom is sympathetic. Somehow, Highsmith makes you want him to get away with it and miraculously, he does.

I’ll admit how he does left me a little baffled in this one, but other than that, Highsmith is straight to the point (geddit?). Her books are tightly written and easy to follow. She knows how to lure you into a false sense of security and keep you turning the pages.

Thank you for reading this month's book corner! If you have any recommendations yourself, please comment below or hit me up on Twitter and Instagram @jstodtv. And keep up to date with what I’m reading on Goodreads.

Josh Stoddard is the author of Smalltown Boy, an LGBTQ+ romance set in 1980s Manchester. It was shortlisted for Penguin’s WriteNow programme in 2020.
He is currently seeking representation.

More about Smalltown Boy