If you were to write a book about one queer icon, who would it be?

DC: I’ve always thought someone should put together an oral biography of the poet Tim Dlugos. He was a major force of gravity in the writing, art, fashion, music, social and lowlife scenes in NYC in the 1980s who seemed to know everyone who was fascinating. Unfortunately, a lot of the people he knew are dead or in their twilight years, so it might be a little late, but it would be a very interesting and inspiring book.

TR: I’m kind of obsessed with Truman Capote. Famously witty, notoriously nasty, and one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, he was visibly queer and ahead of his time in many ways. I think he’d make a great (obviously highly fictionalized) character in a mystery series. It’s a wacky idea, but be honest, can’t you kind of imagine it?

 

There is a lot of online discourse about happy queer stories vs. sad ones. When do you find yourself reaching for either?

OR: I’m less interested these days in reading happy queer stories if I feel like they’re just trying to fit into the “trans joy” trope. I understand the desire to move away from the historical focus on the trans trauma plot, but I think there’s a space in between the two which is much more interesting. Nowadays you’re much more likely to find me reading literary fiction about the lives of characters after they’ve transition, such as Afternoon Hours of a Hermit by Patrick Cottrell, an irresistibly funny and incredibly smart novel about a self-styled trans detective which I couldn’t put down.

 

What have you read recently that you think everyone should know about?

RA: I loved The Hairdresser’s Son by Gerbrand Bakker (translated by David Colmer), a slow-burn delight of a novel. I have little in common with the main protagonist, Simon—well, nothing other than being gay, lonely, middle-aged, grumpy, single, slightly misanthropic with mother issues. Other than that, nothing. Simon is a hairdresser, just like his father who died before he was born, and his grandfather before him. The novel shows us Simon living his life—honing razors, polishing mirrors, sweeping discarded hair—an ordinary life filled with wonder. The subtlety with which the reader comes to see Simon’s loneliness and desperation is magical. Oh, and the sexual interest part of the novel is truly creepy!

DC: If you mean among queer and queer-adjacent books, Kay Gabriel’s Perverts, Sasha Hawkins’ For Disobeying, Francis Whorrall-Campbell’s The Revolution Will Not Have Been Downloaded, Hesse K’s Disquiet Drive, Ronald M. Schernikau’s SmallTownNovella, and Nathan Kernan’s A Day like Any Other: The Life of James Schuyler off the top of my head.

OR: The queer historian Hugh Ryan’s latest book, My Bad, is coming out this week. Hugh came of age during the early days of the internet in the 90s, so this is a nostalgic ride through an era when homophobia was still rampant and largely culturally endorsed. Because he writes with one eye on history, this is an incredible record of what it was like to be genderqueer identity in the time before we were all being surveilled by our own cellphones. It’s wild, chaotic, page-turning, heart-breaking, occasionally jaw-dropping, and imbued throughout with Hugh’s fabulous sense of humor.

TR: I loved A Queer Case by Robert Holtom. As queer as the title implies, it’s a whodunnit featuring Selby Bigge, a closeted young gay man living, loving and cruising in the shadows of 1920s London. It’s tremendously fun and really well written, features some great characters, and the mystery at its heart is well plotted and satisfying. I was thrilled to learn it’s the first in a series!

 

What is a piece of media that you feel was pivotal in discovering and accepting your queer identity?

DC: There wasn’t a lot of media back when I discovered my queerness. Probably books. Probably reading Arthur Rimbaud in my early teens.

 

Do you have any advice for readers who may be starting to explore their own queerness?

RA: Go for it!

DC: Embrace it as the huge advantage it is and avoid others’ attempts to ‘normalize’ you at all costs.

 

In honor of Pride, what is something you’ve done recently that you’re proud of (that you can talk about)?

DC: Just ongoing pride that I can do the only thing I’m good at doing and that people seem interested in it.

 

How has your queer identity shaped what you write about?

OR: The reason I wrote my first book in my forties is because I came out so late, and it’s hard to write honestly when you’re deep in denial about who you are: even when you’re writing fiction, you’re still digging inside yourself to get to the truth. I’m currently working on a novel, and have found that since I’ve inhabited so many identities at different stages of my life (straight woman, lesbian, nonbinary person, trans man) I can see the world from multiple character viewpoints. So maybe the slightly chaotic route I took to find myself is finally working in my favor!

 

What do you hope to see more of in queer stories, both fiction and nonfiction, in the future?

TR: Selfishly, I would love to see more queer characters and stories in the crime fiction space, since those are the kinds of books I write and love to read. There are so many great mysteries and thrillers coming out from queer writers, featuring wonderful LGBTQ+ characters and storylines, but there’s always room for more!

 

What are your plans for Pride?

RA: I’m afraid I’m too grumpy for Pride. In the early eighties, I marched in the parade with my gay soccer team for about ten years. I’ve served my time, fulfilled my homobligation. These days, I lock myself at home, emerging only when the coast is clear.