One Year of Labrys Lit
By Miriam, a keen attendee of Labrys Lit and feminist mother of two daughters. She is casually interested in cultural representation so has found a home at the bookgroup. Miriam cares deeply about social advocacy, cross-cultural communication, learning and laughter.
“ United by the commonality of lesbianism and inquisitive about the heterogeneity of our experiences, we each bring our own interpretations, politics and passions to these discussions.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the announcement of the launch of Labrys Lit - it was just what I was looking for. I have always loved books and reading, but since having children, reading for leisure has sunk down the priority list along with any sense of connection to a lesbian community. I’ve always skirted around the edge of lesbian scenes, not quite finding a niche, and not quite escaping my own hang-ups around how to participate authentically; I don’t drink much and haven’t for a while, I’m not a group person and I am also very busy. Before Covid, I liked going out occasionally and enjoyed sporadic attendance at London’s lesbian meet-ups. The strange dance with strangers was one that at times I enjoyed and at others I found alienating. I like lesbians, some of them, but no, sorry, I haven’t watched the L-word because my Dad recommended it to me in my teens. Excruciating.
I have been very fortunate not to have suffered as a result of Covid as some have. The quietness of the pandemic coinciding with having a baby was largely restorative for me. Emerging into a more social life with two young children and different responsibilities marks a stark change to what came before. The tranquil exploration of reading, preferably on a beach in the Mediterranean sun or on a remote wooded hill, is something I often yearn for and nothing like my life in London. Moreover, the confrontation with one’s internal world that Covid, ill-health and becoming a mother has forced has given me a new insight into what authentic participation in a lesbian community could mean for me. Labrys Lit was my opportunity! I was right, it has been a revelation.
Prior to joining Labrys Lit I had never set out to read lesbian books. I have read books that ended up being a bit lesbian. Now as Labrys Lit reaches the one-year mark I have found myself enthralled by a varied and engaging reading list. And a varied and engaging group of attendees tuning in from all over the world by video link. Claire, who runs Labrys Lit, is a warm and insightful host whose commitment to lesbian fiction is impressive and enviable. Some months authors attend; the first half of the book group is a discussion between the author and Claire who poses thoughtful, reflective questions, offering a platform for exploration that adds richness to our understanding of the books. There follows a Q&A where members can ask the author their own questions and share their own responses to the book. Other months, the author can’t attend and the book group is transformed into a rambunctious and opinionated group of women, keen to discuss, praise and critique the books from their own unique standpoints. United by the commonality of lesbianism and inquisitive about the heterogeneity of our experiences, we each bring our own interpretations, politics and passions to these discussions. What women want out of the book group is varied, with some enjoying the difficult subject matter we’ve handled, and others preferring a romp.
It’s hard to do justice to the books and the diverse opinions about them. For me the books that divide opinion are the most enjoyable to discuss. One such book was Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls, by T Kira Madden. A dark memoir, the members of Labrys Lit drew vastly different conclusions about their impressions of the book. For me, the way in which the author captured the complicated journey to discovering her lesbianism through an environment of hypersexualisation and heterosexual interactions rung very true as a millennial who came of age just as social media did. For others, the horrifying experiences described in the book were too off-putting and I remember one member saying she wishes she could get those images out of her head. In total contrast, last month’s book, When Katie Met Cassidy, by Camille Perri was a light-hearted romance that united the group in so far as nobody considered it plausible; the opulent wealth and designer lifestyle of the protagonists added glamour, but not much in the way of relatability. The predictable, mildly raunchy straight-girl-falls-for-clean-shaven-butch was a page-turner for some of us, but I struggled to turn the pages. The humour wasn’t pulled off as far as I could tell and I was put off by the stereotypes replicated in the book. The discussion was immensely enjoyable, with members sharing their own memories of lesbian bars and lamenting the loss of these spaces. Regardless of how much we agree or don’t, each and every book provokes members to share their own experiences and put themselves into the group. It’s very touching.
One month I didn’t attend. I hadn’t finished the book - a crime to myself I have committed twice now, but missing Labrys Lit felt like a gaping hole for the month that followed. I had felt like I shouldn’t attend. I hadn’t finished the book because I didn’t like it - The Daylight Gate, by Jeanette Winterson. Speaking to a friend who asked about that month’s book, I rolled my eyes and muttered something about “cloaks and buggery”. Not my cup of tea, particularly the latter. I later saw on the Facebook group that it had starkly divided opinion and I utterly regretted not being there. There is a certain joy about the weeks when we simply discuss the texts. But hearing the authors speak is also amazing. I think back with particular fondness to the first two months of Labrys Lit in March and April 2021. I was heavily pregnant when we heard Claire’s Q&A with V. G. Lee about her collection of short stories Oh You Pretty Thing! The poignant, vivid writing drew me in and when two weeks later my second child was born I poured through the second month’s book in hospital. I turned up at the end of April with a newborn, tired but enthralled by Little Gold, by Allie Rogers, a beautiful novel about a friendship between a teenage girl and an elderly neighbour she realises is a lesbian. Set against a backdrop of a neglectful family home, with grooming and alcohol misuse going on around her, Little Gold finds a tranquil but scintillating escape in the company of Peggy. It’s incredibly moving.
It’s hard not to go through every book we’ve read. I’ve loved something every month, the text, the Q&A or the discussion. Two of my favourites were definitely Patsy, by Nicole Dennis-Benn, and Golddigger, by Hilary McCollum. They were exactly the kinds of novel I like to get my teeth into. This months’ book Bessie Smith, by Jackie Kay, is wonderful so far, and being about an iconic Blues singer, my playlist is also transformed. Jackie Kay accesses the complex world of Bessie Smith, blending history, prose and poetry with personal reflection. It’s a captivating book and utterly absorbing. I’m racing to get through it by Sunday with the timeless sounds of Bessie Smith’s blues filling the air around me. I can’t wait to hear from Jackie Kay herself or hear what the other women thought of it.
In Labrys Lit, I have found a niche that suits me and I'm looking forward to the year ahead.