lgbt literature

Because there will be no forthcoming commercials about you and I.
Inspired by the novel Faggots by acclaimed playwright and activist Larry Kramer, a variety of gay literature, and stories
Now that I am a writer, I am awestruck by those who possess the facility to translate works of literature. How do they do it? Is the translation a new, separate work of art?
Why is it important for children to have access to stories like these? What do you want children to take away from Large
When LGBTQ literature is taught, read and analyzed in the community college English classroom, the clear message is that it is important enough to study and to include in the curriculum; therefore, LGBTQ people must be important enough to be considered as human beings and citizens.
I've been a fan of Justin Sayre's work for a while now. I watch his stand up on YouTube and love his podcast, "Sparkle & Circulate." His spot-on analysis of gay culture is always a treat and was exceedingly excited when I learned Sayre was working on his first novel for young adults.
Boy meets girl. Or boy meets boy. Or girl meets girl. In Anne F. Garréta's novel, gender is beside the point.
John R. Gordon is one of the finest novelists working today. His latest novel, Souljah, about a gay former child soldier navigating the harsh realities of life as a newly-arrived immigrant in London, is a spellbinding masterpiece that has just been shortlisted for a Lambda Literary Award.
Head here to purchase Dark Rites on Amazon or here to visit Jeremy Jordan King's website. The Huffington Post chatted with
Without the stigma, much of what we have written about in the last hundred years will be largely irrelevant. We won't be suffering, suicidal, sex-crazed perverts anymore; we will be loving, caring, responsible individuals, even in the mind of the reading public. It may be some way off, but we are getting there. What, then, will happen to literature?
'Ultimately, my advice would be the same for any writers -- write about real characters and interesting plot lines. LGBT readers want representation, not lectures or sob stories (at least not all of the time).'
During the spring semester of 2002, while I was teaching my creative-writing class at Sheepshead Bay High School in Brooklyn, a student finally shared and read aloud a poem that he had just written. And after he read, our jaws dropped with amazement, our eyes widened with shock, our brows curled with concern, our hearts stopped with empathy, and our bodies froze with fear.
Paul Burston, the creator of the Polari Literary Salon in London, has, through sheer charm, hard work and diligence, transformed the possibilities of what a literary event should be: a space crackling with energy, ideas, excitement, raucousness and just plain ole fun.
For many years I have been thinking more and more that everything must be, should be, and can be queered, or gayified, or lavenderized, or bent. At conferences, or in classes, or during conversations, I consistently say that I am only interested in queering things.
By writing directly in the voice of an older, gay Caribbean man, Bernardine Evaristo, who's British-Nigerian and a woman, has executed an extraordinary act of ventriloquism that crosses gender boundaries as well as racial, cultural, sexual and linguistic differences.
Young people, gay and otherwise, need to see gay people as no different from anyone else, to see them in scenarios that characterize the lives of human beings as a whole. Unfortunately, for those like me, who looked to literature for a guiding light, the terrain was too often depressingly barren.