Well, this is certainly a book people are going to come into with preconceptions.

As for me, I’m not queer—I do think there should be a gender-neutral word which means gay or lesbian, etc—but I’m also not a specialist. I mean, if you read my catalog, you might think I was a Regency landowner or something, which would almost be weird, you know. (I’m actually just a straight guy, which of course means I have a deep and abiding hatred for all women, lol.) Chelsea here is also, judging from her other books, also probably more of an ally than a queer person, (*) you know—which is a magnet, I suppose, for, I don’t know. You know how there’s that popular Spencer biographer who wrote the non-technical medieval history overview, A World Lit Only By Fire, which I’d like to read some day, or something like it; but the specialists flamed it; they’re like the nativists of intellectualia, they meet the immigrants at the border with sticks and broken bottles and start building a wall. “We’re going to build the wall, and Barnes & Noble is going to pay for it.”

(*) Actually, it turns out, she (she/they!) is queer herself (themself).

I don’t know; I’m straight, but I’d like to get over myself, and see queer people as just like the person next door, the cute and wholesome romance instead of the weirdo or the person who doesn’t exist, but…. But, you know, other people, theoretically, could get over themselves too. Like when Tony Soprano got shot and he saw the Indian saying on the wall, Sometimes I go about pitying myself, and all the while a great wind carries me across the sky, and it helps him, but then he gets out of the hospital and he starts carrying on and haranguing his criminal associates about how a great wind is carrying them across the sky. That’s what I am—not a great wind, but Tony Soprano. After all, we’re both straight guys, even if he’s a little more excellent in his straightness than me, lol.

…. It’s very pretty, it’s achingly sincere romantic drama, and I’m already regretting not getting it in its e-reader version: hmm, not here. Walk walk walk. Walk walk walk. *looks around*

[Incidentally, where I live I didn’t have that reaction reading the Gita—I live in NJ, albeit in what I think is a light red county. Once I was at the mall and this guy in a Star Wars stormtrooper costume helmet was I guess trying to get attention and failing, and he asked me what I was reading so I just showed him the cover of the Gita edition I was reading and went right back and he didn’t say anything. At the time I didn’t believe in engaging the popular culture—I don’t know how I’d handle it now, but I Really don’t know how I’d handle harassment even one time (better at the mall than by people you know) about reading a lesbian novel. What am I supposed to say—it’s June? People aren’t homophile for thirty days every June; that’s a polite fiction. Like this! Lol. It’s a very polite novel. I mean, Chelsea has her say, Aww that’s a fucking shame, very occasionally, but other than that it seems all shy love. Much better behaved than many contemporary romances or even this girl’s other books…. I guess they’re still trying to get them over, you know, the gay couple that doesn’t have sex in public (they own an art gallery, for God’s sake) “doesn’t know that they’re gay”—but I don’t want to tell you who said that. I don’t work for the Stasi; I just want my “imported” West German consumer goods lol.]

…. I’m a lot more like the femme. Do I always let fear dictate my life? Of course not. I only fear two things—death, and life. Most people fear lots of things. My fears are very abstract, so they’re fewer.

…. The quiet desperation of small town life. You think of the New Englanders as all being little Emerson boys and Thoreau girls, but. “I never got out of the fishbowl.”

…. They also seems like they’re just poor and sad enough to be relatable, while also kinda contented and local, you know. I guess that would set some people off, but I’m basically the person who benefits, lol.

…. Eventually I started reading it at home.

Totally fine, but I’m glad I borrowed it on Hoopla instead of buying.

CW for past partner death. ( )

I really wish I had liked this more than I did. After all, it's set in Maine/Mass., two of my favorite places to read about.

But, say it with me now. Lesbian. Les-b-ian. Lesbian. This is a lesbian romance, so, the two characters who are in it, are lesbians. They never call themselves anything but women, and so, they're not Queer, they're lesbians. LESBIANS. It's a lesbian romance, not a queer one.

Needless to say, the fact that every single time it should have said lesbian it instead read queer drove me up a wall. Queer books have their place. This wasn't one of them, but, then again, I shouldn't be surprised I guess. This is published by a big publisher (Harlequin, their new LGBT press, which, after I finish my final Netgalley from them, I'm gonna stay away from it I think), and not a publisher that actually has been publishing Lesbian Fiction for years and years (*cough BSB, Bella, Ylva, Riptide, and so many more *cough*)

The bummer is that the underlying story was actually pretty good. It's about Jude and Iris. They grew up in the same town in Maine, both got out, and both are back. They also both have issues to overcome, which makes it a bit twisty for sure.

The secondary characters (yay a librarian) were interesting too. Although here and there the characters didn't quite seem their ages.

But, having queer things shoved down my throat was unrelenting. It honestly sometimes felt like someone went through and Find/Replaced all the places where it had said lesbian and put queer instead.

From the start I was worried about reading an adult lesbian romance from a big publisher. (like the whole Jodi Picoult book about lesbians, oof). I just didn't guess what the exact problem would be. Ah well. Good story, too much libfem word usage.

I was given this ARC by Netgalley on behalf of Harlequin - Carina Press ( )