By Claire L. Heuchan

It’s with great pleasure – and real pride – that I announce Labrys Lit’s reading list for 2024. Here’s what our international lesbian book group will be reading next year:

1.              The Cancer Journals, by Audre Lorde (January)

2.              In at the Deep End, by Kate Davies (February)

3.              Girl Meets Boy, by Ali Smith (March)

4.              The Hidden Room, by Stella Duffy (April)

5.              Backwards to Oregon, by Jae (May)

6.              Frontier, by Grace Curtis (June)

7.              Juliet Takes a Breath, by Gabby Rivera (July)

8.              Desert of the Heart, by Jane Rule (August)

9.              Solo Dance, by Li Kotomi (September)

10.           Hush Little Baby, by Rachael Herron (October)

11.           All This Could Be Different, by Sarah Thankam Mathews (November)

12.           Miss Lister’s Guest House, by A.L. Aikman (December)

I don’t think it’s arrogance on my part to say there’s something for everyone. We have contemporary and historical fiction; a coming-of-age story and a reflection on approaching the end of life; psychological suspense and uplifting romance; literary and genre fiction; a lesbian classic written 60 years ago and an ecofeminist, space age work of science-fiction.

The Cancer Journals is perhaps Audre Lorde’s most intimate piece of writing, documenting her experience of breast cancer.

In at the Deep End is a comedy with a dark twist, exploring a newly out lesbian’s experience of abuse.

Girl Meets Boy is a literary masterpiece – Ali Smith’s modern retelling of Ancient Greek mythology.

Stella Duffy’s The Hidden Room is a taut psychological thriller centred around a lesbian family.

Backwards to Oregon is a historical novel set across America’s frontier – arguably the most influential lesbian romance novel of the last decade.

And Frontier is a futuristic western about a stranger who crash-lands on earth, searching to recover what she’s lost.

Juliet Takes a Breath is a charming bildungsroman about a young Puerto Rican woman’s struggle to come out and connect with feminist community.

Desert of the Heart is a classic romance between a sexually repressed academic and a free-spirited artist moonlighting in a casino.

Solo Dance tells the story of a Millennial lesbian attempting to build a new, safer life in Tokyo.

Hush Little Baby is a twisty thriller about revenge motherhood, and an unconventional lesbian protagonist.

All This Could Be Different is a story about a young Indian woman navigating the lesbian dating scene in North America, and looking for a sense of place.

And – last but by no means least – Miss Lister’s Guest House is a heart-warming novel about the ties of lesbian community.

I’m so looking forward to sharing every one of these stories with the women of Labrys Lit. Hearing their perspectives is the biggest joy in running this book group. If you’re a lesbian over the age of sixteen and would like to join us, there’s good news! Membership is free and you can sign up here.

The biggest difference between 2024 and previous years is the variety in author backgrounds. In previous years I’d set a requirement that, at minimum, we’d read three books by women of colour and three books by working class women. Ideally those books would make up the majority of our reading lists but, as I’ve already mentioned, we’re not living in an ideal world. And in curating Labrys Lit I have to work with what the publishing industry gives me – which is systemic underrepresentation of marginalised writers.

That being said, I’m delighted to announce that from next year on we’ll be reading a minimum of four books by women of colour and four books by working class women per year. Labrys Lit was founded with a commitment to pluralistic representation. We read diversely in genre, belief, and author background. And the more fully we can lean into those principles, the more enriching this group will continue to be.

At points meeting our triple diversity commitment has been challenging. More than once I’ve ended up in tears over how comparatively few lesbian books there are by women of colour. I was (and am) deeply frustrated by racism in the publishing industry. I also felt afraid that, if I ‘borrowed’ a book from the following year’s draft line-up, I’d create a representational deficit with no guarantee of being able to pay it back in time.

And, hardest of all, I was afraid of letting down the wonderful women of Labrys Lit. Month after month they place their faith in me, trusting that I’ll choose good books that reflect a broad spectrum of lesbian lives. And living up to their belief is a responsibility I take seriously.

I’ll admit there were times when I was tempted to settle. Lorde knows the curation of this book group has made me more sympathetic to programmers and organisations whose events are disproportionately white. There are times when people make a sincere effort to offer meaningful, varied representation and fail for all manner of reasons outside of their control. But after combing through obscure listicles, scouring bookshops, and spending too much time on BookTok, we’re sorted.

Pushing for pluralistic representation is important. It means that our members get to experience the fullest possible range of lesbian culture. All these different facets of lesbian experience – insights into our community and relationships – bring fulfilment to the women who read them. Since Labrys Lit began this has been the most consistent piece of feedback from our members. I hope our book continues to bring them joy during this exciting new chapter.