Between Brittney Griner’s powerful memoir about her time in Russian detention, Geoffrey Mak’s journey inside the legendary nightclub Berghain, and Nicole Maines’ trans superhero origin story, 2024 had as many kinds of queer books as there are queer readers. If you wanted the perfect Fire Island reading, Thomas Grattan had you covered with In Tongues and if you wanted profanely profound verse, Brontez Purnell offered it in spades. The ubiquitous coming-out memoirs and informative guidebooks of the 2010s still have their place, but it’s wonderful that the LGBTQ+ literature of today truly encompasses every genre, format, and style under the sun, from the experimental to the mainstream.
To get a fuller picture of the scope and variety of queer titles released this year, I asked culture critics Ilana Masad and Sarah Neilson to spearhead this list of the best LGBTQ+ books of 2024, along with additions from Them staffers and contributors. The result is a perfect year-end syllabus for anyone looking to expand their literary horizons or find a comfortable niche to retreat to. Getting lost in books has always been a quintessentially queer experience, and it’s never been more varied than it is now. — Samantha Allen
Coming Home by Brittney Griner with Michelle Burford
If there’s one thing I think we can all agree on, it’s that the WNBA is very popular now. So you probably know who Phoenix Mercury center Brittney Griner is, and that she was wrongfully detained in Russia for nine months while going to play overseas in 2022. Coming Home, her second memoir, details this harrowing experience. The page-turner not only recounts some truly horrible events but also details the strength it took Griner to cope with the overwhelming despair and anxiety she felt. I was stressed out reading this, but in a good way, and I have a ton of respect for Griner’s bravery in surviving and sharing this story. — Sarah Neilson
Mean Boys by Geoffrey Mak
The biggest mean boy of all time was recently elected President of the United States once again and he’s quickly started recruiting all the other mean boys to join his administration, so this is the perfect time to read Geoffrey Mak’s essay collection. Whether he’s waxing poetic about techno and kinky sex or finding his way out of psychosis and into Alcoholics Anonymous, Mak’s writing is delicious and almost always ends up somewhere unexpected. His work is the best kind of provocative; requiring me to sit with discomfort and consider my reactions to his points. Want an example? He argues that empathy is far more of a selfish (yet truly deep) pleasure than it is a tool for understanding others; I’ve been thinking about that for months now. — Ilana Masad
Housemates by Emma Copley Eisenberg
In Housemates, Emma Copley Eisenberg masterfully weaves together two narratives that take the reader on a Philadelphian adventure through love, grief, loss, and the collective power of art. When struggling photographer Leah moves in with new roommates, including writer Bernie, they all discover that they need each other in more ways than they thought. If you’re looking for an unconventional queer coming-of-age story, this one’s for you. — Ana Osorno
There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven by Ruben Reyes Jr.
This is one of the best books of any genre I’ve ever read. Every story is a hit — no skips. The characters are so alive, the writing restrained but lush, and the full breadth of humanity — complex, wonderful, broken, loving — permeates every page. I guarantee the last story will make you cry. — Sarah Neilson
Like Happiness by Ursula Villarreal-Moura
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a grown man in the possession of talent, success, and cultural cachet must be in want of a young woman to be a creep to. I mean, it shouldn’t be, but far too many women have had a complicated, weird relationship (romantic or otherwise) with an older teacher or person who wields some kind of power over them. In Villareal-Moura’s novel, thirty-something Tatum Vega, blissfully cohabitating with her girlfriend in Chile, is forcibly reminded of M. Domingo, an old mentor/friend/sort-of-flame who she’s finally gotten away from when she learns that he’s been accused of sexual assault. He didn’t assault Tatum, but she’s not exactly surprised at the news. I devoured this excellent debut, which lets things stay complicated, as they so often really are IRL. — Ilana Masad
Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt by Brontez Purnell
With his popular 2021 book 100 Boyfriends, Brontez Purnell announced himself as a peerless author, writing about sex and desire with vivacity, vulnerability, and candid clarity. But with Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt, Purnell introduces new audiences to “Brontez, the poet” without missing a beat. Fans will find much to love in this collection, with plenty of poems that capture his trademark wit and delightfully depraved sense of humor. (Here, he is still “the total fatherless pussy” sucking on a “big-ass caramel candy bar colored dick.”) But in these pages, Purnell also finds room for moments of refreshing observation and deep introspection. It’s impossible to read Purnell’s work without fully immersing yourself in his twisted worldview, embracing his singular vision in all its serrated glory; few writers can simultaneously delight and shock — often in the same line — in quite the same way. After all, as he writes: “I just had to signify / that poetry / is still dangerous.” — Michael Cuby
Cataract by Callum Angus
This chapbook from one of my favorite writers, Callum Angus (who also wrote the story collection A Natural History of Transition), is a perfect read for these existential times. It’s short, for those of us with scattered attention spans. It’s experimental in a way that lights up the brain, and it contains beautiful writing that is also rooted in rage at the people and systems that actively (and gleefully) facilitate the climate crisis. — Sarah Neilson
The Shutouts by Gabrielle Korn
I recommended Korn’s first novel, Yours For the Taking, for Them last year, and I am so stoked to tell you that there is a sequel. But if you haven’t read the first book, fear not. The Shutouts — which follows a mother-and-daughter duo, the mom’s old flame, and a woman escaping a cult she never intended to be part of — also totally works as a standalone. Set in a dystopian future that’s uncomfortably likely, Korn’s characters find joy nevertheless in queer friendships, parenthood, romance, and sex. This isn’t sugarcoated, sappy kind of book; the world Korn writes about is real, painful, and has consequences. But resistance to the capitalistic or ideologically misguided solutions that spring up as a response to climate change is far from futile; it is necessary, possible, and life-affirming. It’s a book I really needed right now, and I suspect you might, too. — Ilana Masad
Bad Dream by Nicole Maines, illustrated by Rye Hickman
In an absolute win for Supergirl fans everywhere, Nicole Maines made her full-length graphic novel debut this year writing the official DC Comics origin story of Dreamer, the fan-favorite transgender superhero Maines portrayed on the TV series. Brought to vivid, emotional life by Eisner Award-nominated nonbinary artist Rye Hickman (Buzzing), Bad Dream follows young Nia Nal as she struggles to accept her hereditary dream powers, runs away from home, and discovers the joys of queer (and superpowered) chosen family in Metropolis. But try as she might, Nia can’t outrun the fate that’s coming for her. Matriarchal space magic, ballroom, and a talking corgi named Argus — it’s everything Dreamer fans have been, well, dreaming of. — Samantha Riedel
Ours by Philip B. Williams
If you, like me, are a slut for novels written by poets, you definitely want to check this one out. Ours follows the fates of various characters in an all-Black town named Ours, which was founded in the 1830s by Saint, a conjure woman who traveled around Arkansas freeing enslaved people from their plantations and enacting revenge upon their masters. Saint protects the town from the outside world, or tries to, but can she protect its people from themselves and each other? No longer enslaved, the people of Ours nevertheless live with their trauma, even away from the white gaze, and their offspring must learn to navigate their lives as the children of wounded people. Still, there is joy, ambition, and curiosity in Ours, and queerness is a vital part of it. — Ilana Masad
Catalina by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio
Karla Cornejo Villavicencio wrote the absolute banger 2020 nonfiction book The Undocumented Americans, so I was definitely excited about this debut novel. And I was right to anticipate it. The book follows the titular character, an undocumented Harvard student, taking place over the course of her senior year. Due to Catalina’s undocumented status, and that of her grandparents who raised her in Queens, her upcoming graduation will mark the start of an even more uncertain chapter in her life. As she barrels toward it, her experience of elite academia and all of its trappings serves as a backdrop to the absorbing story. Villavicencio writes with a mix of wit, incisiveness, warmth, and playfulness that makes this book a joy to read.— Sarah Neilson
The Future Was Color by Patrick Nathan
I have a little (read: enormous) style crush on Patrick Nathan’s latest novel, which wields language the way a Cirque du Soleil performer uses their body: insanely, beautifully, elastically. We meet the protagonist, George Curtis, in McCarthyite Hollywood, where he’s all too acutely aware of his screenwriter officemate’s dick getting hard in his pants but can’t really do anything about it. We learn about George coming into his own as a lonely Hungarian immigrant in New York years before, even as we watch him get swept up in the 1950s by a has-been actress’s curious generosity. Lazy, happy days at her grand Malibu home begin to turn dizzying as George and the rest of the actress’ crew find themselves facing existential questions at a Las Vegas party to end all parties. — Ilana Masad
In Tongues by Thomas Grattan
I am not an avid reader by any means, so I’m embarrassed to say it took the buzzy Gay™ summer novel du jour with a pretty cover to get me back in the habit. While visiting a certain gay vacation destination, I counted five copies, mine included, at a pool party. And rightfully so. In Tongues is sexy, fun to read, and made for an enjoyable addition to my summer — the platonic ideal of a beach read. By no means am I a literature critic either, but In Tongues said just enough without belaboring any of it thanks to Grattan’s light and graceful yet poignant prose. I was quickly enthralled with the main character’s wistful and sometimes turbulent journey as a young gay man, often seeing parts of myself in him. Next up: Grattan’s previous novel, The Recent East. — Wesley Johnson
We Were the Universe by Kimberly King Parsons
Kimberly King Parsons wrote one of my favorite short story collections of all time, 2019’s Black Light. So I was primed to love this novel, which follows Kit, a young Texas mother to a precocious four-year-old, in the decimating aftermath of the death of her sister Julie. And love this novel I did. Kit is so compelling to read; her interiority is funny, sad, honest. Porn and sex addiction, hallucinogens, music, friendship, nature, parenthood — they all form pieces in the mosaic of grief at this story’s core. — Sarah Neilson
Rage by Lester Fabian Brathwaite
The feeling of “rage” is inevitable for a queer Black man living in the United States of America — or, at least that’s the way Lester Fabian Brathwaite sees it. In his debut essay collection, the Entertainment Weekly journalist interrogates the many ways it feels impossible to exist in this society as a “double minority,” whether you’re looking for love on an app filled with men who either don’t want you because they’re racist (or do want you because they have a race fetish) or you’re trying to enjoy a rom-com despite your exhaustion with watching white men fall in love. Blending personal anecdotes with shrewd cultural criticism — about subjects as varied as RuPaul’s Drag Race, the warped significance of Gore Vidal’s seminal 1948 novel The City and the Pillar, and the “unconscious drag” of performative masculinity — Brathwaite’s book is insightful and honest, making for an often funny examination of an American dream deferred. — Michael Cuby
Wire Mothers by Katharine Coldiron
The title of Katharine Coldiron’s first short story collection (following a novella and a book of criticism on bad movies) references the infamous and ethically dubious Harry Harlow experiment, and for good reason. Sharp and precise, her five stories explore dark corners of human connection and our need to be loved, as well as the ways in which extending care to others can go horribly, disturbingly wrong, especially when narcissistic motivations are at the heart of that care. Whether it’s a woman turning to a diet of books (literally), a grandmother whisking away her daughter’s children, or a journalist trying to find a villain’s origin story, Coldiron’s characters evoked the best kind of conflicting feelings in me: I wanted to hug or throttle them, sometimes both. — Ilana Masad
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