23rd Aug 2008
That Book Is So Gay
As a member of the LGBT community who reads, there is often overlap between my literary life and my queer life. I tend to read contemporary lit, if perhaps not lit with a capital Literature. I don’t read many romances, though my reading material often contains romance. I don’t read many mysteries, though every good story should have a mystery or two. I don’t read much sci-fi, though magical realism/fabulism often crosses my nightstand. And when I go to the bookstore, if I’m not searching for something specific, it’s the staff picks table, or the new paperbacks table that I gravitate toward. Only rarely will you find me in the LGBT section, and then I’m usually looking for an obscure title.
Last week I attended the Lambda Literary Retreat. While I was there, I heard the author of The End of the World Book, Alistair McCartney, speak on a small panel of debut authors. He talked about feeling ghettoized originally to find himself in the LGBT section. But eventually, he realized he had a niche market, and in these times of many books, few readers, this was exceptionally valuable.
I didn’t tell Alistair that I never would have found him in the LGBT section. I stand among those writers (if I should ever get something finished and released to the world) who does not wish to be relegated to the LGBT section, if only because I would never find nor read my own work that way.
I do not like the term crossover. What exactly am I crossing over to – or from, for that matter? Have I somehow become a part of a netherworld of outcasts, who have to rise above a certain high-jump marker before we can make it out of the “ghetto”? I live in the everyday straight world. Some of my best co-workers are straight. I take the bus with straight people. I read their literature. I answer their e-mails. Why when I become an author would I suddenly have to be crossing over in order to appear on the shelves and tables that I regularly choose my books from – indeed, where my inspiration lives?
On the American Bookseller’s Association blog, Bookselling This Week, is a recent article called “GLBT Titles: Not Just For GLBTs Anymore”. It begins:
With the success of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home and just about every David Sedaris title, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender lit has long since moved from off- to center-stage at general bookstores. With so many choices for GLBT books, the tricky part for a bookseller is creating optimal GLBT section visibility, shelving titles that can span two, three, or more genres, and winnowing a rich field of contenders for shelf space.
And my response to the ABA: when were they ever just for GLBTs? While I’m sure that some were written expressly for the queer audience, many others were not. Who exactly determined that these books were just for GLBTs?
As a member of the LGBT community who reads, there is often overlap between my literary life and my queer life. I tend to read contemporary lit, if perhaps not lit with a capital Literature. I don’t read many romances, though my reading material often contains romance. I don’t read many mysteries, though every good story should have a mystery or two. I don’t read much sci-fi, though magical realism/fabulism often crosses my nightstand. And when I go to the bookstore, if I’m not searching for something specific, it’s the staff picks table, or the new paperbacks table that I gravitate toward. Only rarely will you find me in the LGBT section, and then I’m usually looking for an obscure title.
Last week I attended the Lambda Literary Retreat. While I was there, I heard the author of The End of the World Book, Alistair McCartney, speak on a small panel of debut authors. He talked about feeling ghettoized originally to find himself in the LGBT section. But eventually, he realized he had a niche market, and in these times of many books, few readers, this was exceptionally valuable.
I didn’t tell Alistair that I never would have found him in the LGBT section. I stand among those writers (if I should ever get something finished and released to the world) who does not wish to be relegated to the LGBT section, if only because I would never find nor read my own work that way.
I do not like the term crossover. What exactly am I crossing over to – or from, for that matter? Have I somehow become a part of a netherworld of outcasts, who have to rise above a certain high-jump marker before we can make it out of the “ghetto”? I live in the everyday straight world. Some of my best co-workers are straight. I take the bus with straight people. I read their literature. I answer their e-mails. Why when I become an author would I suddenly have to be crossing over in order to appear on the shelves and tables that I regularly choose my books from – indeed, where my inspiration lives?
On the American Bookseller’s Association blog, Bookselling This Week, is a recent article called “GLBT Titles: Not Just For GLBTs Anymore”. It begins:
With the success of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home and just about every David Sedaris title, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender lit has long since moved from off- to center-stage at general bookstores. With so many choices for GLBT books, the tricky part for a bookseller is creating optimal GLBT section visibility, shelving titles that can span two, three, or more genres, and winnowing a rich field of contenders for shelf space.
And my response to the ABA: when were they ever just for GLBTs? While I’m sure that some were written expressly for the queer audience, many others were not. Who exactly determined that these books were just for GLBTs?
Posted by Rubesy under 
books, bookstores, queer 
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