Greetings, book people! I’m writing this newsletter on one of the U.S.’s trash holidays. There are so many of them. That’s what happens when you found a country on racism and genocide, write a mythology about how it was actually founded on freedom and democracy, and then commemorate those myths with celebrations. I am not about it.

Also: why fireworks? My poor pup. This is always relevant (and brilliant).

I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks about the shape of this newsletter. I can feel myself on the edge of some kind of shift, although I’m not exactly sure what it is, or where it’s taking me. When I decided to write essays every other week at the beginning of this year, it was because I wanted a space to be a little freer, to explore books and ideas in depth. I’ve enjoyed doing so, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my words as well. But I’ve also learned that I can’t churn one pieces like these twice a month.

Not reviewing 12-15 books a month for regular newsletter issues has also been a nice break. But it means there are lots of amazing books I’ve read this year that I haven’t told you about. I don’t think I’ll go back to doing themed book rec newsletters every week—that format didn’t feel sustainable. This current one doesn’t either.

This is all to say: the newsletter is here to stay, but I’m not sure what it will look like in the future. This is part of any long-term project, although my spreadsheet-and-structure loving brain struggles with it. Things that don’t change don’t last, in my experience. Thank you all for being here through all of it. If you have thoughts, ideas, or questions about any of this, I’d love to hear from you.

For today, since it’s July, the midway point of the year, I have a reading check-in for you. I love stats (my reading spreadsheet has 16 tabs, and the data collection tab has 47 columns), but I often find looking at other people’s stats boring. I get a thrill out of data collection for data collection’s sake, but the numbers are really there to tell a story, and that’s what’s interesting. So, instead of a bunch of stats, here are five things about my reading life so far in 2023 that I love.

The Good Bits: 2023 Reading Highlights

#1: Queer Your Year

I was assigned a non-queer novel for one of the publications I review for in June, and I was grumpy about it. It was a good book, but I couldn’t settle into it. It was a sprawling family saga, told from multiple POVs across three generations, and everyone was straight. I just didn’t buy it. I felt guilty, at first, about my reaction to this book. Why couldn’t I just enjoy it for what it was?

It was the only non-queer book I read in June. Curious, I looked back over my reading spreadsheet, and realized I’d only read two other non-queer books since May 1st. Oh, I thought. That’s why this feels so strange.

It’s midyear favorites season on Bookstagram, and I’ve been scrolling through pictures of the best books people have read so far. I keep seeing these posts with one or two queer books in them, or none, and I feel the same way I felt while reading that novel: panicky, unmoored. How is it possible that someone could make a stack of 2023 favorites without a queer book in it? It feels ailen to me, unimaginable.

Here’s the thing: I read mostly straight books for most of my twenties. I’ll say it again: I read mostly straight books for most of my twenties. Of course there are brilliant non-queer books in the world, and of course I will read them. Of course queer lit isn’t the only lit. Of course my TBR is overflowing with nonfiction that has nothing to do with queerness and novels by straight authors. I will not read straight romance, but anything and everything else: yes.

Just not right now. This is the gift Queer Your Year has given me. I’ve allowed myself to indulge in queer lit in a way I never have before. I’ve forgotten, a little bit, that other kinds of books exist. This kind of reading has its limitations. Queer lit is wonderfully expansive, but it is certainly not everything. If I only allowed myself to read queer books for the rest of my life, I’d miss out on a lot of beauty.

But right now, in this moment, in this terrible year, I am reading queer lit with abandon, and my joy is boundless.

#2: 10 Books 10 Decades

This is by far the best thing that has happened to my reading this year. I have fallen head over heels in love with 20th century queer lit. I don’t even know how to talk about it coherently. So far I’ve read books from seven different decades between the 1870s and the 1980s. I couldn’t pick a favorite—At the Bottom of the River for the prose; Olivia for the sapphic longing; Alexis for the complexity of queer lives in the past and the present and the future; Harlem Shadows for the stirring ordinariness; I Want What I Want for the questions it doesn’t answer. Incredible gifts, all. I feel forever and completely changed by them.

#3: Trans Authors

For the past few years I’ve set myself a goal to read 50 books by trans authors. This year I decided to go for 100. Meeting the goal has never been the point anyway—it’s just a framework to help me read more of what I love. However, it’s possible I’ll do it this year, because it’s July 4th and I’ve already read 49! I’ve written about many of them, and a bunch more will be in next week’s newsletter, so here are a few I’ve loved that I don’t think I’ve even mentioned. Abundance is a beautiful thing.

• A Pros and Cons List for Strong Feelings by Will Betke-Brunswick (graphic memoir)

• Feed them Silence by Lee Mandelo (speculative fiction)

• Dream of the Divided Field by Yanyi (poetry)

• Transitional by Munroe Bergdorf (nonfiction)

• A Strange & Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows (fantasy)

#4: Arsenal Pulp Press, Graywolf Press, and Alice James Books

This year, I’m tracking the number of books I read from individual indie presses, and it’s been so much fun. At the moment, Arsenal Pulp and Graywolf are tied for most books read (6 each), with Alice James Books coming in second (5 books).

Arsenal Pulp is the first indie press I fell in love with and they are still the gold standard when it comes to queer lit. Obviously all six books I’ve read have been amazing, but my favorites are Any Other City, The Future is Disabled, and More Sure.

Graywolf published one of my favorite poetry collections of the year so far, Concentrate. My other favorite Graywolf poetry from this year is Removal Acts, which is coming out this fall. As far as fiction goes: read Brickmakers if you’re looking for beautiful devastation, and Sterling Karat Gold if you’re looking for a rollicking antifascist time-traveling queer good time.

Alice James is one of my favorite poetry presses, so it’s no surprise that every book of theirs I’ve read this year has been phenomenal: Burning Like Her Own Planet (reimagined lives of Hindu goddesses), Standing in the Forest of Being Alive (gorgeous poems about grief, marriage, and surviving cancer), I Am the Most Dangerous Thing (Black queer brilliance; amazing erasure poems), Brother Sleep (a beautiful mix of languages and a vivid sense of place), and Feast (food, migration, family).

#5: Physical Books

I read across all formats, but print books are winning this year, accounting for 62% of my reading (audiobooks make up another 34% and digital books just 2%). This is partly because I tend to read comfort books digitally, and this year I’ve mostly been listening to those books (especially YA and romance). It’s partly because I spend a lot of time staring at screens, and it’s a nice break to look at paper instead. Mostly, it’s about pleasure. I’m trying to follow my reading joy wherever it goes, and right now, that means paper books.

I’ve read a lot of library books, including a new all-time favorite, Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo. I told myself in the beginning of the year I was going to focus on books I own, but that lasted about 2 weeks. I’m not sad about it.

And I have been reading books I already own, too! Future Feeling by Joss Lake is the highlight in this category. I bought it when it came out in 2021 and sat on my shelf for far too long. It’s a new favorite! The prize for the book I’ve read that I’ve had the longest goes to The Will to Change by Adrienne Rich. I don’t know when I got it. I’m pretty sure I took it from my parents when I moved out of their house.

I’m looking forward to a very queer second half of the year. I hope it’s full of surprises. I’d love to hear about your 2023 reading highlights thus far, and about what you’re looking forward to as we head into summer.