By Caoimhe Coleman (she/her) Queering the Bookshelves
Pride is not Underground Queer writing is not new to Ireland. May I remind you of a man named Oscar Wilde? The demand for queer and diverse literature is only growing and is definitely not underground. I’ve noticed the demographics of people purchasing queer literature has really widened in the last year or so. One of the most memorable interactions I’ve had was a customer that came in looking for books by trans people and about transitioning. Her grandchild had recently come out as trans and she wanted resources to help her understand and support her grandchild. I can’t even describe how honoured I was to be able to help this woman and to champion trans authors. As a cisgender woman, I’m not an authority on trans voices but I’m so glad I can be an ally in this small yet powerful way. One book recommendation could change someone’s life or outlook and bookshops should be safe spaces
where we can see ourselves reflected. As a queer bookseller, I do have a very cool insider advantage into shaping these spaces. Often it is LGBTQIA+ non-fiction that tends to slip through the cracks but in the work I do, I try to make a point of showcasing these titles. Recently, there has been a significant shift in the uptake of queer non-fiction, with the publication of Shon Faye’s The Transgender Issue in 2021, queer theory (and history) has come firmly into the mainstream and isn’t just this inaccessible academic idea anymore. Judith Butler’s recent publication Who’s Afraid of Gender? under Penguin Random House, has solidified this even further. Butler, a famously difficult to understand academic theorist now available to the casual reader? We’re doing something right here, folks! Other titles include The LGBTQ+ History Book from DK, Bi: the hidden culture, history and science of bisexuality by Julia Shaw and Pageboy by Elliott Page. Supporting queer authors, whether financially or otherwise, is paramount to the success of these stories and sends a message to publishers that they should keep publishing them. From schools, to
libraries, to bookshops, this deserves a more significant focus. It’s in my power to showcase these books, not just for Pride but all year round so why wouldn’t I? This is where we learn our history, embrace our community and where our friends and families can discover more routes to allyship. As readers, the power really is in our hands in terms of who we choose to give our support to–we’ve seen real examples of this in recent years with certain previously beloved authors revealing themselves to be hateful bigots. I’ll leave you with this groundbreaking tidbit: books don’t make people queer but they sure as hell can
Reading has long been understood to improve focus, communication skills, memory, and empathy. One thing science doesn’t tell you? Reading queer literature can be life-affirming for queer people. LGBTQIA+ representation in books has helped me—and many other readers—to practice self -empathy and understand my sexuality better, something which is a constantly evolving process as I’m sure many of my fellow queers will understand. I wasn’t exposed to queer media when I was growing up and so I’ve had to seek it out for myself. Retrospectively, I can now read between the lines of many of my favourite childhood books ( ahem, Jacqueline Wilson) and see how some of the characters were very much queer coded but explicitly queer characters were few and far between. My first experience of queer ‘literature’ was, technically, Pitch Perfect fanfiction. My all-consuming fascination with the potential of Chloe and Becca as a queer couple was, of course, only divulged in secret. Recently, when I asked my work colleagues about their queer lit firsts, most of them had much more…sophisticated answers like The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde), The Blackwater Lightship (Colm Tóibín) and the poetry of Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud. I find this juxtaposition hilarious, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. When I first came out, I didn’t have a queer community or group of friends I felt I could see myself reflected in, so I turned to books. I found myself in Emma Donoghue’s writing, Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper series, Melissa Broder’s Milk Fed, Chloe Michelle Howarth’s Sunburn, Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home, Emily Austin’s Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead… I could go on! (And yes, these are all recommendations, you’re welcome.) I’ll admit, I have a particular fondness for Sunburn, the debut novel of West Cork native Chloe Michelle Howarth. It
“I believe it is novels like [Tin Man] that have led to open and safe conversations about the representation of the LGBT community in literature. I have felt comfortable and seen in the space it has created.” – C “Especially in a time where queer books are being targeted by prejudiced groups, it’s so important to have a community that holds space for queer stories.” – S Thankfully, we do live in a time where I can host this book club with relative ease and very little fear for my safety as a queer person. Ireland does have a history with censorship and book bans– The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall was among the first batch of books to be banned here in 1930. However, in 2024, book bans are pretty much non-existent in Ireland. Freedom within the book industry is actually on the rise, with an increase in independent and specifically queer bookshops opening across the UK, with Ireland slowly following stride. Lest we forget the tried- and-true strongholds of queer literature and activism: I visited Gay’s The Word in London last summer and could have cried of happiness just to step foot in there. A recent visit to Edinburgh also brought me to Lighthouse Books which had a brilliant selection and even nicer staff. Next on my bucket list is Paperxclips Books in Belfast.
is such a brutally relatable manifestation of queer longing and teenage anxiety. The protagonist, Lucy, having grown up in a very small village in a very Catholic family, struggles with her feelings towards her best friend Susannah: “This is not a forgiving place. The fear of it takes me over. It takes us all over. We all have secrets, everybody is hiding something.” Through characters like Lucy, though, I know a lot of queer readers–myself included–have been able to find catharsis for their younger selves who were perhaps denied so many formative experiences. How I wish this book had existed when I was sixteen. Bookselling with Pride Shortly after I came out, by chance or by fate I also started my career as a bookseller. Now (though I pinch myself regularly), I run a very successful book club and you bet I’m choosing books with queer representation as much as possible. We’ve read The Butchers by Ruth Gilligan (this has one of the most heartwarming coming-out scenes I’ve ever read), Tin Man by Sarah Winman, Arthur and Teddy are Coming Out by Ryan Love and Furies from Virago Press (a feminist, queer, trans-inclusive anthology of short stories). The book club has created a sense of community and a safe space in which we can discuss the books that make us feel seen and joyful. People’s perceptions of books are very personal, and the best meetings we have are the ones where people feel comfortable sharing their own stories and experiences that are relevant to the book we’re discussing. More often than not, these have been the works of queer fiction. It has taught me never to underestimate the power of a book, even if it might help or inspire just one person. I asked a couple of the regular members for their feedback recently and Reader, I almost cried at what they said:
make people feel better, actually bloody fantastic,
about embracing their queerness.
Coming to Terms, Coming Out
Photo Credit: Alana Daly Mulligan
38
39
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker