This mini-interview with Leah Reader is brought to you in support of Queer Romance Month.
QRM runs throughout October, celebrating love stories in all shades of the rainbow in all shades of romance. Join us, and over a hundred LGBTQ+ authors and allies, for essays, flash-fiction and much, much more.
- Recommend a book you love, but feel is under appreciated
I usually find myself liking the books no one else likes (AND SOMETIMES BEING VINDICATED LATER FOR HAVING EXCELLENT TASTE TYVM). My favorite lesbian romance is Patricia Highsmith’s The Price of Salt, which was adapted into a film called Carol that’s coming out this November (Cate Blanchett + Rooney Mara = *swoon*). Highsmith was a notorious misanthrope and cynicism oozes from her work, which I love because I have a bitter little heart myself, but beneath the elegant jadedness Salt has a romantic, obsessive soul. Those elements all come together in a way that resonates so hard with me. It’s dark, it’s bitter, it tricks you into thinking it’ll be another Tragic Lesbians story, and then it becomes something else. And Highsmith’s prose is exquisite.
- A character from romance you identify with
One of the first “queer” romances I ever read was Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body. It’s a book about the narrator’s failed relationships–primarily with women, but some men, too–and disastrous affair leads to disastrous affair until they find true love. It’s beautifully lyrical and dryly funny but the very best part is that the narrator’s name and gender are never disclosed. It was the first book I’d ever read about a nonbinary character, let alone a queer nonbinary one, and it blew my fucking mind. It was the first time I saw someone actually like me in fiction. I’ve read lots and lots of queer romance since then, but I have yet to meet another character (or writer) who gets into my head the same way. Jeanette Winterson, someday I’d love to have coffee with you. Or tea, I guess. Brits.
- What do you think is the future of queer romance?
I’m both positive and apprehensive about this. On one hand, we’re seeing tons of up-and-coming small presses publishing LGBTQ+ fiction, which is awesome. The big publishers are gradually picking up their pace, too. Atria, my pub, has been awesome at recognizing and promoting the diversity in my work, and I’m damn proud of them for that. My writing duo friends Christina Lauren predicted we’d see queer romance on the same shelves with mainstream straight romance very soon, and that’s actually happening already: my ultra-queer book Black Iris is out on display with the cishet romances, and Cam Girl will soon join it. It’s incredible to see this change happening right in front of me, and for my books to be part of it.
On the other hand, the vast majority of “LGBTQ+” fiction is still just about the G. M/M romance dominates all other categories by far. And a lot of M/M, particularly the self-published stuff, is not good representation. It’s fetishizing, trapped in binary genderland, often riddled with misogyny, and primarily written by folks who don’t ID as gay men and who don’t do the research about the gay men whose stories they’re writing.
So I view some of the surge in queer romance popularity as a false flag. Representation is important, but it needs to be authentic, non-exploitative rep. I’d like to see attention shift from problematic M/M toward stories that are inclusive of the entire queer spectrum: more L, B, T, Q, and all the other letters in our rainbow alphabet soup, please.
Leah’s contribution to Queer Romance Month – “Why I Wrote Cam Girl” – will be published on 23rd October.
“I liked girls almost exclusively, but “lesbian” always felt like the wrong word for me, viscerally. Like it was making a statement about my identity that I knew to be deeply untrue. But I was female–at least, my body was–and I liked girls, so what the hell else could I be?”
–Leah Raeder
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About Leah
I was born in the 80s, which means I have fantastic taste in music and atrocious taste in hair. I knew at eight years old that I wanted to be a published author when I grew up. Of course, when I was eight, “published author” was a glamorous daydream where I spent all day in bookstores, signing hardcovers and posing for photos with fans. In reality, authordom involves lots of bourbon-scented tears and neurotic self-doubt. At least there are fewer mullets.
I’m from Chicago and have lived all over the world, from NYC to LA to Tehran, Iran. I currently live in the Windy City with my partner, Alexander, who’s very understanding about all this girlsmut business.
Her latest novel, Cam Girl, will be available from 11/3.
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About Black Iris
It only took one moment of weakness for Laney Keating’s world to fall apart. One stupid gesture for a hopeless crush. Then the rumors began. Slut, they called her. Queer. Psycho. Mentally ill, messed up, so messed up even her own mother decided she wasn’t worth sticking around for.
If Laney could erase that whole year, she would. College is her chance to start with a clean slate.
She’s not looking for new friends, but they find her: charming, handsome Armin, the only guy patient enough to work through her thorny defenses—and fiery, filterless Blythe, the bad girl and partner in crime who has thorns of her own.
But Laney knows nothing good ever lasts. When a ghost from her past resurfaces—the bully who broke her down completely—she decides it’s time to live up to her own legend. And Armin and Blythe are going to help.
Which was the plan all along.
Because the rumors are true. Every single one. And Laney is going to show them just how true.
She’s going to show them all.
Thanks for a thoughtful post.