Books
Don’t miss these 2 books from award-winning queer writers
Diaz, Shapland pen unforgettable poetry, nonfiction

‘Postcolonial Love Poem’
By Natalie Diaz
c.2020, Graywolf
$16/105 pages
‘My Autobiography of Carson McCullers’
By Jenn Shapland
c.2020, Tin House
$22.95/288 pages
Often, you enjoy a book. But it’s as ethereal as a lovely snowflake. After a month, you forget about it.
That’s not the case with two unforgettable books by queer authors that are among this year’s National Book Awards finalists. Natalie Diaz, a queer, Native American poet is a finalist in poetry for “Postcolonial Love Poem” and queer writer Jenn Shapland is a finalist in nonfiction for “My Autobiography of Carson McCullers.” The winners of the distinguished award will be announced in a virtual ceremony on Nov. 18. Winners of the prestigious prize will receive $10,000; finalists will receive $1,000.
Neither Diaz’s or Shapland’s book – one a searing volume of poetry, the other an arresting memoir – will slip out of your mind. Each volume will leave you questioning and pondering yourself, identity, erasure and history.
“Postcolonial Love Poem” is Diaz’s second poetry collection. Her first poetry collection “When My Brother Was an Aztec,” was an American Book Award winner. Diaz, who is Mojave and an enrolled member of the Gila River Indian Tribe, has received many honors, including a MacArthur Fellowship. She is the Maxine and Jonathan Marshall Chair in Modern and Contemporary Poetry at Arizona State University.
Poetry is of the body – the body personal, the body political and the body historical. Rarely has this been more true than in “Postcolonial Love Poem.”
Diaz’s poetry speaks eloquently and vividly of desire. “Haven’t they moved like rivers/like glory, like light/over the seven days of your body?” she writes in the poem “These Hands, If Not Gods,” “And wasn’t that good?/Them at your hips/isn’t this what God felt when he pressed together/the first Beloved: Everything.”
The narrator of Diaz’s poems knows that desire is often intermingled with worry, anxiety and sleeplessness. She uses striking imagery to evoke desire and the night. “Insomnia is like spring that way – surprising/and many petaled,” Diaz writes in the poem “From the Desire Field,” “the kick and leap of gold grasshoppers at my brow/I am stuck in the witched hours of want/I want her green life.”
The volume is a stirring indictment of injustice and erasure. “Police kill Native Americans more/than any other race,” Diaz writes in the poem “American Arithmetic.”
“I’m not good at math–can you blame me?/I’ve had an American education,” she adds with incisive irony later in the poem.
“Postcolonial Love Poem” is the most provocative, compelling poetry collection I’ve read in eons. Check it out.
In her memoir “My Autobiography of Carson McCullers,” her first book, writer Jenn Shapland explores erasure and identity. Carson McCullers, who lived from 1917 to 1967 and is best known for her novel “The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter” and her novel (as well as its adaptation for the stage) “The Member of the Wedding,” is an iconic writer, playwright and poet.
Yet, in biographies and literary history, her queerness has been largely erased. In her genre-defying book (part memoir, part biography), Shapland examines and illumines both McCullers’ and her own identity, queerness, memory, obsession and love. Her nonfiction has been published in “Tin House,” “Essay Daily” and other publications. Shapland won the 2019 Rabkin Foundation Award for art journalism, and her essay “Finders, Keepers” won a 2017 Pushcart Prize. She teaches as an adjunct in creative writing at the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe.
When Shapland was a graduate student, she discovered intimate letters that McCullers wrote to a woman named Annemarie. As she uncovers the letters, she becomes obsessed not only with how history has erased McCullers’ queerness but with how queer women’s love stories are told.
In short, evocative, incisive chapters, Shapland questions: Why have queer women had to (even now) tell their stories in a way that fits straight narratives? Why have we had to be ourselves – navigate in hetero spaces? As she struggles with her own sexuality, Shapland wonders what McCullers’ secrets and legacy will reveal to her about herself.
“To tell another person’s story,” Shapland writes, “a writer must make that person some version of herself, must find a way to inhabit her.”
“My Autobiography of Carson McCullers” is an absorbing, revealing story of queer history and identity.
Books
New books reveal style trends for a more enlightened century
Guidelines that hint about gendering clothing are out
Books about Fashion and Style
By various authors
c.2026, various publishers
$19.95 – $29.95
Don’t look now, but your legs are showing.
It’s OK, it’s almost summertime and you want to show both skin and style. So how about a few hints for looking your best? Check out these great books and get stylin’.
Who says there are rules about fashion? Wearing white before Memorial Day is OK; socks with sandals not so much? Fine, but in “Bending the Rules: Fashion Beyond the Binary” by Camille Benda with Gwyn Conaway (Princeton Architectural Press, $29.95), you’ll see that any guidelines that hint about gendering clothing are oh-so-last century.
Along with lively, fun narrative, there are lots of photos in this book, ads for how clothing used to be worn along male-female lines, and short biographies of some of today’s best designers. Here, you can check out prom dresses from the 1950s and new haute couture gowns practically right off the runway – and see how one parallels with the other. The timeline reaches back centuries, so you get a nice idea of where certain kinds of clothing originated and how it’s relevant today – making what’s inside here perfect for browsing.
Pick up this book, in fact, and you might also pick up some ideas for filling your closet and creating your very own style.
The fashion you wear on your body isn’t all you’ll find in “Pretend to Be Fancy: A Field Guide to Style and Sophistication” by Whitney Marston Pierce (Chronicle Books, $19.95). You’ll also read about other nice things you can have.
So you’re not a pinky-in-the-air kind of person, whatever. You can easily hang with those who are, once you read and absorb this book.
Tongue-tied at fancy soirees? Not anymore, there are tips for talking here. What do you know about canapes, hors d’oeuvres, and the kind of foods you don’t get at the corner c-store? How do you make a charcuterie that everyone will Ooooooh over? And how do you give a gift for the person whose taste seems scads better than yours? That’s all in here, along with what to drink, how to dress, and how to make every corner of your home look like something right out of a high-end magazine.
Will this book make you chic? Possibly, yes. Will it help you get invited to all the best parties? Maybe, but for sure, it’ll make you laugh, it’ll make you feel fabulous, look fabulous, and live your best life with the surroundings you deserve. Out May 5, so put it on your list.
But let’s say you need more ideas. You have questions or thorny issues with fashion that you really need answering. That’s when you ask for a talented fashionista at your local bookstore or library, that knowledgeable someone knows books and knows how to get what you need to be your most dazzling, best-dressed, finest-appointed self in a home you can be proud of, with comfortable furniture that will be the envy of everyone who sees it.
In the meantime, grab the above titles, because these books got legs.
‘La Lucci’
By Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
c.2026, Blackstone Publishing
$29.99/196 pages
They’re among the world’s greatest love stories.
You know them well: Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Abelard and Heloise. Phoebe and Langley. Cliff and Nina. Jesse and Angie, Opal and Palmer, Palmer and Daisy, Tad and Dixie. Now read “La Lucci” by Susan Lucci, with Laura Morton, and you might also think of Susan and Helmut.

When she was a very small girl, Susan Lucci loved to perform. Also when she was young, she learned that words have power. She vowed to use them for good for the rest of her life.
Her parents, she says, were supportive and her family, loving. Because of her Italian heritage, she was “ethnic looking” but Lucci’s mother was careful to point out dark-haired beauties on TV and elsewhere, giving Lucci a foundation of confidence.
That’s just one of the things for which Lucci says she’s grateful. In fact, she says, “Prayers of gratitude are how I begin and end each day.”
She is particularly grateful for becoming a mother to her two adult children, and to the doctors who saved her son’s life when he was a newborn.
Lucci writes about gratitude for her long career. She was a keystone character on TV’s “All My Children,” and she learned a lot from older actors on the show, and from Agnes Nixon, the creator of it. She says she still keeps in touch with many of her former costars.
She is thankful for her mother’s caretakers, who stepped in when dementia struck. Grateful for more doctors, who did heart-saving work when Lucci had a clogged artery. Grateful for friends, opportunities, life, grandchildren, and a career that continues.
And she’s grateful for the love she shared with her husband, Helmut Huber, who died nearly four years ago. Grateful for the chance to grieve, to heal, and to continue.
And yet, she says of her husband: “He was never timid, but I know he was afraid at the end, and that kills me down to my soul.”
“It’s been 15 years since Erica Kane and I parted ways,” says author Susan Lucci (with Laura Morton), and she says that people still approach her to confirm or deny rumors of the show’s resurrection. There’s still no answer to that here (sorry, fans), but what you’ll find inside “La Lucci” is still exceptionally generous.
If this book were just filled with stories, you’d like it just fine. If it was only about Lucci’s faith and her gratitude – words that happen to appear very frequently here – you’d still like reading it. But Lucci tells her stories of family, children and “All My Children,” while also offering help to couples who’ve endured miscarriage, women who’ve had heart problems, and widow(ers) who are spinning and need the kindness of someone who’s lived loss, too.
These are the other things you’ll find in “La Lucci,” in a voice you’ll hear in your head, if you spent your lunch hours glued to the TV back in the day. It’s a comfortable, fun read for fans. It’s a story you’ll love.
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Books
Risking it all for love during World War II
New book follows story of Black, gay expat in Paris
‘The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram’
By Ethelene Whitmire
c.2026, Viking
$30/308 pages
You couldn’t escape it.
When you fell in love, that was it: you were there for good. Leaving your amour’s side was unthinkable, turning away was impossible. You’d do anything for that person you loved – even, as in the new biography, “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram” by Ethelene Whitmire, you’d escape toward danger.

On Aug. 28, 1938, Reed Peggram boarded a ship from Hoboken, N.J., hoping to “become a proper gentleman” and fulfill his dreams. A prolific writer and Harvard scholar of comparative literature, he’d recently been awarded the Rosenwald Fellowship, which put him in the company of literary stars like Du Bois, Hurston, and Hughes.
Both Peggram’s mother and grandmother were then domestic workers, and they had big expectations for him. Reed himself was eager to study abroad, for professional and personal reasons; he was “determined to become a French professor and an accomplished linguist” and “He also hoped to find love.”
What better place to do it than in Paris?
Outgoing and confident, Peggram made friends easily and had no trouble moving “through the world of his white male peers.” Where he faltered was in his lack of funds. He relied on the kindness of his many friends – one of whom introduced Peggram to a “man who would become so pivotal in his life,” a Danish man named Arne.
Peggram and Arne had a lot in common, and they began to enmesh their lives and dreams of living in the United States. But there were complications: homosexuality was largely forbidden, World War II was in its early stages, and it quickly became apparent that it was dangerous to stay in Europe.
And yet, Peggram loved Arne. He refused to leave without him and so, while most visiting Black Americans fled the war in Europe, “Reed was trying to stay.”
There’s so much more to the story inside “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram,” so much to know about Reed himself. Problem is, it’s a long haul to get to the good stuff.
In her introduction, author Ethelene Whitmire explains how she came to this tale and yes, it needs telling but probably not with the staggering number of inconsequential details here. Peggram moved homes a lot, and many people were involved in keeping him in Europe. That alone can be overwhelming; add the fact that costs and other monetary issues are mentioned in what seems like nearly every page, and you may wonder if you’ll ever find the reason for the book’s subtitle.
It’s there, nearly halfway through the book, which is when the tale takes a tender, urgent turn — albeit one with determination, rashness, and a dash of faux nonchalance. Also, if you’re expecting an unhappily-ever-after because, after all, it’s a World War II tale, don’t assume anything.
Reading this book will take a certain amount of patience, so skip it if you don’t have that fortitude. If you’re OK with minuscule details and want a heart-pounder, though, “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram” might be a good escape.
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