14 Queer and BIPOC Books From Arsenal Pulp Press to Read Right Now

This collection of linked short stories is about the life of a Congolese Canadian woman as she grows up with her family near Toronto. Each story beautifully captures a different moment in her life, exploring friendship, cultural traditions, immigration, sexuality, and work. Together they add up to a complex picture of a young woman looking for her place in the world. Mutonji’s clear, direct prose makes it sink into the world of this beautiful, if sometimes bleak, book.

This is a collection of linked stories that does one thing really, really well. All of the stories are about gay men searching for connection — with each other, with themselves, with friends, with family. It’s about online dating, falling in and out of love, heartbreak, sex, hookup culture, and grief. Some of the stories are only a page long, recounting a single date. Others have a magical or speculative twist. They all echo other, building into a symphony about the joys and challenges of a particular subset of gay male culture.

This is one of those books that’s so dizzying that you just have to sink into it and let Larissa Lai take you where she wants to go. If you like the slightly strange and/or queer dystopias, this is the book for you. It’s set in a post-apocalyptic Vancouver, a harsh world ravaged by climate change. The story follows two women who are desperately trying to protect themselves and those they love from a mysterious plague sweeping through the city. It’s fast-based and creative and constantly surprising.

This is a strange and beautiful book that’s not exactly speculative, but it does blend genre in a way that’s hard to pin down. It’s an illustrated novel consisting of two parallel narratives: a contemporary queer coming-of-age/love story, and a reimagining of several Hindu myths. Shraya uses prose, poetry, and art to tell a powerful story about self-discovery and self-love.

This is not the only Ivan Coyote book that Arsenal Pulp has published, and I had a lot of trouble picking which one to highlight — they’re all so good! I chose this one because it’s the first book of theirs I read, and still one of my favorites. Coyote writes about growing up in Yukon, finding queer community as a young adult, and their lifelong journey of gender discovery. There’s a warmth to the way they write that’s hard to articulate. Reading this book feels like sitting down to chat with an old friend. It’s funny and tender, even when it’s about hard stuff.

Amber Dawn is a filmmaker, writer, and performance artist. In this memoir, written in poetry and prose, she recounts her time as a sex worker, and reflects on queer and survivor identity and the impact of poetry and literature in her life. It’s a book that’s not easy to define or contain. Dawn refuses to simplify or compartmentalize herself or her story, and the result is a memorable book that challenges, opens, and inspires.

In this smart, vulnerable, and moving memoir, Teresa Wong recounts her experience with postpartum depression in the form of a letter to her daughter. It’s a short but powerful read; Wong writes beautifully and openly about some of the hardest months of her life. Full of impactful art and moments of levity, this is a compelling, poignant book, and an important one, as postpartum depression is such a common but still not often talked about experience.

This book isn’t out quite yet, but I couldn’t resist including it because a) it’s brilliant and b) it exemplifies everything I love about Arsenal Pulp (and indie presses in general). It’s a gorgeous collection of interviews with queer and trans artists, activists, and healers. The work and stories represented are messy and joyful, reflecting so many diverse experiences. Syan Rose’s art is luminous, bringing something new to each of the pieces collected. It’s a stunning book that showcases everything graphic storytelling can do.

While many of the pieces in this book are traditional essays, Piepzna-Samarasinha also includes interviews, lists, letters, and other writings that expand the definition of “essay.” The book as a whole is about disability justice, but Piepzna-Samarasinha approaches this complicated and broad subject from so many angles. She tells personal stories, engages critically with current and historic movements for disability rights, and offers concrete steps for ongoing activist work.

In this collection of essays, Bennett writes about parenting as a nonbinary person, their experiences of pregnancy and breast feeding, mental illness, struggling to be taken seriously as a writer, partnership, family, and a whole lot more. Bennett revisits similar themes in different ways, but there’s also a wonderful diversity of subject matter. Some of these essays are about queer and nonbinary identity, and some are not. It’s always a joy to read a book like this by a queer author, one that explores queerness, but also recognizes the parts of a life that have nothing to do with being queer.

This is one of those books that I simply want to shove into everyone’s hands. The way Thom plays with language, imagery, and from is stunning. I eventually gave up underlining because nearly every line had me nodding along or pausing to take a deep breath. Thom writes about family, violence, desire, trans womanhood, queerness, history. As in her nonfiction, she’s especially good at writing hard truths about queer and trans communities. These poems are painful and celebratory at once, which makes them both urgent and vibrant.

In this beautiful collection, Cicely Belle Blain writes about geography, Blackness, queerness, multiracial identity, activist, and a whole lot more. Many of their poems are rooted in the physical, whether they are writing about their body, a city, a neighborhood, or a piece of art. It’s a collection that’s both personal and critical. Blain engages with history and opens dialogues with other queer artists, as well as writing about their own intimate relationships with people and places.