Not much of interest here. Just more housecleaning of assorted articles, grouped thematically. (You might guess that I've been working through Classical Greece currently.)
Arkins, Brian. 1994. “Sexuality in Fifth Century Athens” in Classics Ireland, Vol. 1: 18-34.
This article is not particularly relevant, as it presents an overview of the structure of sexual relations from an elite male point of view. There is discussion of the social construction of sexual systems, with some odd anecdotal parallels from more modern cultures. There is a brief discussion of how to understand Sappho’s biography and work within this context (including a perhaps unwarranted assumption that social structures in Lesbos were identical to those in Athens).
I guess I quit too early in Christine Downing's Myths and Mysteries of Same-Sex Love, because this article basically recapitulates a couple of chapters from it. On the other hand, by waiting to summarize this version of the content, I didn't have to wade through the Freudian psychoanalysis.
Downing, Christine. 1994. “Lesbian Mythology” in Historical Reflections / Réflexions Historiques, Vol. 20, No. 2, Lesbian Histories: 169-199.
I’m now going to walk back my claim that Downing 1989 had no relevant content, because Downing 1994 is a slight re-working of several chapters in that book, mostly restricting itself to laying out the mythological and historic material that she analyzed in the earlier publication. In this article, she omits the psychoanalysis and focuses on the texts, interpreting them in the context of a broadly-defined “woman-centered-woman” definition of “lesbian.”
All of this content is more rigorously analyzed in Boehringer 2021, so this is going to be a very superficial catalog of what Downing covers.
Downing begins with Ovid’s story of Iphis and Ianthe, noting how it illustrates “how isolating, confusing and terrifying lesbian desire can be when there are no myths, no models, to follow.” [Note: But since Iphis is a fictional character, written by a male author, within a culture that has other examples of the existence of female same-sex desire—as illustrated by some of the other material presented in this paper—the reading that it represents actual female experience is poetic projection.]
The article continues with a recognition of the variety of understandings of “lesbian” in contemporary culture, and how that informs her decision to include a fairly wide scope of material within this article, not simply texts overtly touching on romantic or erotic relationships.
The next example is the “seeking one’s other half” myth from Plato’s Symposium, compared to Greek attitudes about the moral imperative to avoid “excess” in one’s sexual appetite and how that related to the strictly ritualized aspects of pederastic culture (for men). The texts provide no similar moral or ritual codes for female same-sex relations (omitting to note that since these texts were transmitted via male authors, they reflect masculine interests and concerns).
The next section discusses myths of Amazons and Maenads, discussing how they reflect male anxiety about female independence and power, while ascribing perhaps a greater aspect of lesbian sexuality to them than the evidence warrants. Rituals of girlhood transition associated with Artemis are discussed, with speculation about the possible existence of female rites of passage (separate from marriage rituals) associated with Artemis.
The myth of Kallisto and Artemis is solidly offered as evidence for beliefs in f/f relations within Artemis’s circle, which they moves on to a consideration of the evidence for attitudes toward the sexuality of Greek goddesses generally. [Note: Once again, we lack an explicit consideration of the transmission of these myths and how they are more likely to reflect fictionalized versions of femininity in the service of patriarchy.]
The final section of the article discusses Sappho’s poetry and its likely social context, including a chronology of historic framings of Sappho’s life and character across the centuries and how those framings reflect shifts in attitudes toward lesbian possibility. The article concludes by pointing out that the borrowing of language associated with Sappho as the basis for describing female homoeroticism reflects both the hunger for historic connections and Sappho’s unique position within the historic record of providing a positive image.
As noted previously, sometimes I cover publications because I think they'll be useful to the Project; sometimes I cover them to document that they're not useful. And sometimes the way I pre-schedule and write up materials out of order means that I blog things that I might have otherwise just noted as "not useful" in my database. So I blogged Downing 1989 to document that, despite the intriguing title, it isn't really useful for historical study. But I'm blogging this response to that article because I have a couple dozen articles pre-scheduled in a specific order and dropping it would leave an awkward hole in my schedule that would mar the logical symmetry of the blog structure. OK, maybe that's going a bit far, but let's just say it's easier to blog it than to not blog it at this point.
The second Downing-related article does turn out to be relevant (and points out that maybe I quit on Downing 1989 too early?) In the mean time, as I'm typing this, I'm finding mysefl dealing with several random ants crawling across my screen, so the next task is to figure out where they're coming from and deal with it. (Late summer is always "dealing with ants" season.)
Reineke, Martha & Christine Downing. 1993. “Within the Shadow of the Herms: A Critique of "Myths and Mysteries of Same-Sex Love" [with Reply] in Historical Reflections / Réflexions Historiques, Vol. 19, No. 1: 81-101, 103-106
Given that I found Downing 1989 to have little relevance to the goals of the Project, it may be unsurprising that I find Reineke’s critique of it to be similarly of only tangential interest. Reineke begins by spending almost half of her article in a detailed summary and rewording of Downing’s points (something that Downing complements in her reply). Reineke’s critique focuses primarily on modern psychological theoretical interpretations, adding in additional frameworks of analysis. Her one historical critique is that Downing “is insufficiently mindful of [the] androcentrism and misogyny” of the ancient Greek sources and the society they were created in. Glossing over this context includes not recognizing (or at least, not acknowledging) that the women presented in, for example, Plato’s work represent a male-centered fiction and not an accurate reflection of women’s function in society. Downing’s response largely boils down to: “I think we’re closer in our interpretations than you believe, but maybe I was less clear than I could have been.” But, as with Downing 1989, the focus is strongly on modern psychoanalysis, not on history.
Because I have two papers in my to-do folder that follow up on this book, I thought I’d take a look at the book first. Alas, It doesn’t appear to be very useful, so I suspect the followup articles will also be covered very briefly.
Downing, Christine. 1989. Myths and Mysteries of Same-Sex Love. The Continuum Publishing Company, New York. ISBN 0-8264-0445-6
There are some books that have been on my shelves since the earliest years of my interest in the subject without me ever having cracked them open. Indeed, it was the accusatory gaze of those books that helped spur me on to starting the Project. But not all of those books are actually relevant to the study of history. And this is one of them. To be fair, once I skimmed through the first few chapters, it became clear that Downing was not attempting or claiming to do history. She's doing Freudian psychology. The book is also, in many ways, a memoir of her own sexual journey and her experiences as part of the queer community during the AIDS crisis. But even to the extent that myths and images from Classical Greece are discussed, it is in terms of what they mean to 20th century people who are trying to frame their own sexuality in mythic terms (as mediated by Freud's peculiar ideas about same-sex attraction). It's very much "of its time"--the author's previous book was feminist-goddess-imagery explorations. But at least I can tick it off from my list now.
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This is not a book about history. The author’s area of focus is religious studies and psychology and the book primarily concerns itself with interpreting Greek and Roman mythological references to same-sex relations through a Freudian and Jungian lens. (Indeed, half the book is a discussion of Freud’s and Jung’s writings on same-sex relations and the development of their theories.) The conclusions are entirely concerned with modern Freudian understandings of Greek myth and how those might inform the experiences of modern people. Therefore I’m not going to summarize or analyze the book in detail as it doesn’t speak to the experiences or understandings of historic individuals.
As noted previously, I'm working through a bunch of articles in my "to do" folder that got deprioritized for various reasons. This one is focused primarily on male relations, but does toss in an appendix with brief mentions of f/f possibilities.
Bremmer, Jan. 1980. “An Enigmatic Indo-European Rite: Paederasty” in Arethusa, Vol. 13, No. 2, Indo-European Roots of Classical Culture: 279-298.
Bremmer presents some anecdotal, cross-cultural evidence for classical Greek pederasty having structural similarities to some generational-initiation ceremonies or systems in “primitive” cultures, positing that it is, perhaps, a relic of a more widespread Indo-European practice. The body of the article is focused exclusively on male relations, however a very brief appendix reviews three brief references to a possible female parallel in Sparta that could expand understanding of the context of Sappho’s love poetry. The references are:
(Originally aired 2025/09/20 - listen here)
[This episode is an interview with Heckscher Museum curator Karli Wurzelbacher about her upcoming exhibition of the work of American sculptor Emma Stebbins. A transcript will be posted when available.]
In this episode we interview Heckscher Museum curator Karli Wurzelbacher about her upcoming exhibition of the work of American sculptor Emma Stebbins:
A transcript of this podcast will be added here when available.
Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online
Links to Heather Online
Links to the Heckscher Museum of Art Online

Bird-watching is more of a supplementary hobby for me—something I’m always doing regardless of what else is going on, but not something I tend to plan as a specific event. So I was eagerly anticipating learning a bunch of new birds, but there was only one line-item in our trip brainstorming that was specifically a bird-watching event (and as it happened, we weren’t able to do that thing). So this is the bird-watching layer of the trip. (I’ll get to the non-bird-watching parts later.)
At first I was going to rely on iPhone apps for ID purposes. I picked up a free app, Twitcher, that was nice in that the menu had mini-images of the birds, to make it easier to skim for possibilities. But actually accessing the full details on each bird was an “in-app purchase” thing, which pisses me off. So instead I paid off the top for Birds of New Zealand, which is more extensive (includes a lot of rare visitors), all content is part of the app, and includes a checklist where you can note where and when you saw each bird. The down side is that the menu includes only names (grouped alphabetically either by taxonomy or by the common name). So unless you already have an idea what type of bird a mollymawk or a prion or a Pukeko is, you’re going to spend a lot of time clicking through. Oh, another feature of the app is that you can display names either by Anglo common names, Maori common names, IOC names, or genus+species
Eventually I found a print guidebook in a tourist shop, which make things a bit easier for the leafing through, and it was even small enough to fit in my purse easily: Birds of New Zealand by Geoff Moon. Includes photos of different ages, sexes, and seasonal plumage. Very useful.
Before I found that book, I got a smaller booklet: A Mini Guide to the Identification of New Zealand’s Land Birds by Andrew Crowe. (How’s that for nominative determinism?) Land birds only, illustrations rather than photos, but clearly shows distribution maps and color-coded tags for whether the bird is endemic (NZ only), native, or introduced. I’ll do a summary of that data at the end.
8/31 (Driving from Auckland to Rotorua) My very first bird ID was a Common Myna in a little village on Lake Waikare where we stopped for lunch. Also a Swamp Harrier (of which I’d see many). (No photos) At Tanner’s Point – scenic beach on the east coast (North Island). Lots of bird calls in the trees, but hard to spot the birds. I was able to ID my first Tui which eventually became my favorite bird. (It also seems to be a local favorite and shows up in a lot of art.) Thie header photo is from the aviary in Auckland zoo, because that’s my best shot, but I saw lots of them in the wild. Also depicted: large-scale street art in Rotorua.

And these are all going to be sideways, aren't they? Grr. Well, I can either spend a couple hours fiddling with the photos or I can just go for it.
Rotorua is on the shore of an enormous lake with scattered sulfer springs. There’s a large bird sanctuary both on shore and the small offshore islands. Birds ID’ed:
A large nesting colony of Red-billed gulls.

Black swans (close up from a later date, swans with cygnets from Hobbiton)

The Pukeko is ubiquitous in urban parks. A gorgeous bird with iridescent blue and green feathers and a red bill. The closely related Takahe (no photo) has very similar coloration but is larger, heavier, and flightless. It’s also seriously endangered (remember: flightless). I saw some Takahe in the Auckland zoo, but in the wild they’re restricted to the South Island.

Many graylag geese, but it’s hard to know whether to call this introduced species “wild” since they’re interbred with domestic geese, resulting in variable coloration.

Large flock of New Zealand Scaup, a type of duck.

I got internet help on ID’ing this shag (a type of cormorant). Hard to see in this photo, but the back and lower breast are black with a white bib reaching down to mid-breast. The guidebook showed species entirely black, or with an entirely white throat and belly, or with a weird racing-stripe pattern on the sides of the neck and head, but nothing that matched what I saw. Fortunately a Bluesky NZ birding acquaintance noted that the Little Shag can have a wide variety of breast colorings, and I found a variant that matched my pattern.

Also ubiquitous are the New Zealand fantail (another bird popular in local iconography) which has a flycatcher habit, swooping out from a perch and darting about acrobatically to catch insects.

Not pictured: at the Waiotapu hot springs, a sign noted the presence of Pied Stilts so I did a lot of looking to see if I could spot one. In the middle of a large sulfer flat, there was something that I thought might be a bird. Or it might be a piece of wood. Or… no, it moved. And sure enough it was a Pied Stilt. But it was too far away for a good photo. Also spotted a Welcome Swallow
9/2 Rotorua – Mostly exploring around town. No new birds
9/3 Rotorua, forest hike. Spotted an endemic Tomtit, ID thanks to the white wing patches. But moved too quickly for a photo.
9/4 Hobbiton tour, so there was a lot of rural driving and then the Hobbiton site itself to spot things. Multiple introduced species:
Eurasian blackbird

The English sparrow is so common I wouldn’t have bothered taking a picture except it was being photogenic.

Also (not pictured) Australian magpie (which has flashy black and white coloring, but not the long tail I normally associate with magpies), Common Chaffinch, Eurasian Coot, Mallard Duck. Native birds included the White-faced heron. Several of these in the millpond at Hobbiton but I couldn’t get a good picture.
9/5 Driving from Rotorua to Wellington by way of Tongariro Park. Birds spotted by not photographed: Black-billed Gull, European Greenfinch. Bird not spotted even though the Tongariro information center said that was the best place to spot them: Blue Duck (though I did see them at the Auckland Zoo).
9/6 Wellington – No new birds, although I suppose I should mention that pigeons are everywhere. So common I didn’t even bother to note them on my checklist until now.
9/7 Wellington – No new birds, but had an amusing encounter with the very aggressive Red-Billed Gulls at an outdoor café, where I had to warn another diner that his lunch was about to be snatched.
9/8 Wellington – No new birds. At this point in the trip, we were doing a lot more relaxing than running around.
9/9 Day-trip to Kaitoke Park (site of the Rivendell set). No bird photos, but spotted the following: European goldfinch (in a small flock), Paradise Shelduck (unusually for ducks, the female is easier to ID, having a russet body and white head, but it also helps that they tend to work in m/f pairs, so you can see the contrast with the dark-headed male).
9/10 Drive from Wellington to Auckland. Spotted on the way (but no photos): introduced ring-neck pheasant and wild turkey.
Spotted the flashy New Zealand Pigeon, which I illustrate with a more photogenic one from the Auckland Zoo.

9/11 Auckland – We went to the zoo and stuck mostly to the NZ section. The big attraction was the kiwi exhibit (in a darkened enclosure where they’ve swapped day and night so they’ll be active for visitors). I got a video, but it’s really too dim to be work trying to pull a still from. I believe these are Brown Kiwis. Other birds seen in zoo enclosures: Bellbird, Grey Teal, Little Owl, Little Penguin, North Island Saddleback (surprised I didn’t see these in the wild), Sacred Kingfisher, Takehe, Yellow-Crowned Parakeet. And a Kea. Have a Kea, showing off its under-wings.

Spotted while at the zoo, but not in the exhibits so I get to count them for real: Eastern Rosella, Song Thrush.
9/12 We'd planned to take a ferry out to Tiritiri Matangi island bird sanctuary, but the ferry was cancelled due to weather conditions, alas. There are a LOT of seabirds in the bird books, but most are found on the outlying islands.
Summary (41 species: 23 native, 18 introduced)
Endemic or Native (13 species)
Introduced (or recently migrated) from Australia (4 species)
Introduced from Europe (11 species)
Introduced from elsewhere (2 species)
Zoo (11 species, native except as noted)
Sometimes, when I've done a podcast episode on a topic, I tend to deprioritize other publications on that topic in order to keep myself fresh with new material. And there are some topics where there's so many publications that each one adds relatively little new information, so I'd rather focus on expanding the overall content. But sometimes its just worth getting caught up on various topics that aren't "top priority" simply because they're there in the to-do folder. Which is why I'm currently working through a number of journal articles that fall in the aforementioned categories. Some of them feel like just housekeeping with not much substantial interest. But some of them--like this one--add significantly to the understanding of those topics.
Nelson, Max. 2000. “A Note on the ὄλισβος” in Glotta, 76. Bd., 1./2. H.:75-82
I hadn't gotten my hands on this article when I wrote "The Dildo Episode" for the podcast. It could have added a little nuance to some of the early material.
This is one of those delightful linguistic deep-dives so beloved of classical philologists. Nelson considers the use of classical Greek ὄλισβος (olisbos) as meaning “dildo” within the context of its other meanings and of other words for dildo and concludes that not only was “dildo” not the primary meaning for the word, but that it also wasn’t the standard/default term for such an instrument. Rather, the modern scholarly assumption that olisbos=dildo derives from the use of the word in Aristophanes and the tendency of the works of Aristophanes to dominate understandings of Greek usage of his time.
The article starts with a chronology of glosses and explanations for Aristophanes’ “olisbos” starting with late classical glosses of it as “leather penis”, including non-sexual (or perhaps anti-sexual) interpretations as “pessary,” and leading to a universal assumption in the 19th and early 20th centuries that the word meant a leather dildo.
To counter this, he notes various appearances of the word in music performance contexts, where it is paralleled by “plectrum,” where it indicates a stiff, oblong object used with stringed instruments. (This is likely the context for the appearance of olisbos in a poem fragment attributed by some to Sappho—by others to Alcaeus—which has generated the claim that Sappho’s use of a dildo supports understandings of her sexual activity.)
The article continues with a detailed discussion of the etymology and parallels for olisbos. The root means “slider” which, in a musical context, evokes an object slid along the strings. [Note: I’m not quite sure how that would work with a lyre—the usual context—but perhaps a deeper dive into ancient Greek musicology would provide enlightenment.]
But olisbos did also clearly appear as a euphemism for a dildo (presumably due to its shape). And evidently “plectrum” could also have this meaning, as seen in a drama by Herodas in which two women discuss the output of a leather worker who “could not even stitch the plectrum for a lyre” which makes no sense in a musical context, as a musical plectrum would be made of a hard substance such as horn, ivory, or wood. [Note: All of which are also substances noted in other ages as materials used for dildos.] “Plectrum” comes from a root meaning “to hit, strike” indicating how it was used musically, but also lending itself to sexual innuendo. There are at least two other texts where a clear double-entendre between musical-plectrum and sexual-plectrum appear.
Olisbos is rare in the surviving literature after the date of the possible-Sappho poem, but one of the authors who uses it is Aristophanes, commentaries on whom perpetuated and amplified familiarity with the sexual sense of the word. The author suggests that this could have been an idiosyncratic use in his work rather that representing a standard and accepted term for the object.
Nelson catalogs a number of other words used for dildos in ancient Greek, including the genre of comic drama where olisbos typically appears. Excluding words whose primary meaning is “penis,” he notes (I’ll skip the Greek versions and do a rough transliteration):
The ancient author who wrote most extensively on the dildo (Herodas) didn’t use “olisbos” at all, but rather the isolated term “baubon.”
Nelson, in my opinion, has made a solid argument for his conclusions that, while “olisbos” was one of many ancient Greek euphemisms for a dildo, this was not its primary meaning, nor was it the primary term for the sex toy. Rather, this impression has been given by an accident of historiography. (On the other hand, this article impressively demonstrates the pervasive presence of dildos in the ancient Greek imagination.)
While I cast about for an organizing theme for the next bout of LHMP blogging, I think I'll do some housecleaning on loose threads in the files, like this book which simply gets a note that--however intriguing the title--is not useful for lesbian topics.
Bray, Alan. 1996. Homosexuality in Renaissance England. Columbia University Press, New York. ISBN 9780231102896
As part of the purpose of this blog is to help researchers determine which publications are worth examining in more detail. I’m going ahead and blogging this item simply to note that it explicitly declines to consider women at all. This is all too common for histories of homosexuality written by male scholars. I feel that Bray is giving excuses for his simple disinterest in claiming that popular thought made no connection between female and male homosexuality. But I intend to address that topic on its own at some point.
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In the introductory matter for this book, Bray states: “I have...restricted the scope of the book to questions of male homosexuality. Female homosexuality was rarely linked in popular thought with male homosexuality, if indeed it was recognised at all. Its history is, I believe, best to be understood as part of the developing recognition of a specifically female sexuality.”
(Originally aired 2025/09/06 - listen here)
Welcome to On the Shelf for September 2025.
It’s been quite a month! To start with, I worked pretty intensively to get my first self-published book out. It’s not a historic project, being a collection of connected fantasy stories under the title Skin-Singer: Tales of the Kaltaoven. Some fairly cozy shape-shifter adventures with a low-key sapphic romance threaded through it. The project had two purposes: to bring these stories—written over the last thirty years—back into availability, and to use as a “practice project” for the self-publishing process. If it sounds like your sort of thing, I hope you’ll check it out. I’m planning to do an audio version of it as well, doing my own narration.
The second big thing in the last month was going to the World Science Fiction Convention in Seattle. Worldcon was special for me this year as I was a finalist for a Hugo Award for a non-fiction piece I co-wrote on some really geeky statistical analysis of award nomination patterns. My co-author and I didn’t win the Hugo—I’m very happy for the book that won—but it was exciting to have the finalist experience and feel like a minor celebrity. I participated on several discussion panels, two related to history and one on constructed languages. And I had lots of chances to meet up with people, including my cover artist for Skin-Singer and five—count them, five!—of the authors published in this podcast’s fiction series.
Then I barely had time to touch base at home and record a couple more podcast episodes before heading off for two weeks in New Zealand, which is where I am when this airs. This is my official “celebrating retirement” trip with my best friend. We’re doing a bunch of Lord of the Rings tourism, as well as hiking, enjoying nature, and cultural experiences.
After I get back, it’ll be time to start the publicity push for next year’s podcast fiction series. As I mentioned last month, I’ve decided to continue the fiction series for another two years to make it an even ten and then shut down that part of the project. Let’s make these next two years count! The call for submissions is up on the website and is functionally identical to last time.
Publications on the Blog
I’m still on my temporary vacation from blogging books and articles for the Project, but in August, before that vacation started, I covered six items. First up was a retrospective essay by Emma Donoghue on her career in lesbian history—chosen as the 500th publication covered on the blog.
Next were a couple articles by Susan Lanser: “Befriending the Body” exploring the intersection of sexuality and class in 18th century England, and “Sapphic Picaresque” examining a brief literary fashion for positive or neutral depictions of lesbians in the early 18th century.
Next up were two items on the politicized medical fascination with the lesbian clitoris in the 16th through 18th centuries: Katharine Park’s “The Rediscovery of the Clitoris” and Corinna Wagner’s Pathological Bodies. We finished off with Martha Vicinus considering the public reception of male impersonation at a time of social change in “Turn of the Century Male Impersonation.”
When I regroup and start blogging things again, I need to look at my history book outline and identify topics I need to fill in. I’ve started working on some of the introductory text for the history book, so it’s feeling very real now. And I really need to come up with some better way of referring to it than “the history book.” I haven’t come up with a draft title yet because I’d like to clearly distinguish it from the Lesbian Historic Motif Project as a whole. So for now, it’s just “the history book.”
Book Shopping!
After a long drought in book-shopping for the blog, I picked up a new title, thanks to the recommendation of a fan of the Project. This is a translation of a text purportedly by the Abbé de Choisy, a 17th century French aristocrat who was assigned male, but raised by his mother as a girl, and after some experimentation as an adult, settled into wearing female clothing and having romantic relationships with women. Because history is complex and sex and gender categories are not stable over time, it's difficult to be certain how to classify Choisy. The translator uses the term “transvestite”—the English title of the translation is The Transvestite Memoirs—but the translation was originally published in the 1970s and I suspect a different approach might be taken today. There’s also the complication that—although presented as a non-fictional memoir (to which a fairy tale has been appended)—historians have been unable to find any corroboration for Choisy’s behavior in contemporary sources and consider the entire work to be fictional. In any event, I’ll look into this topic in greater detail when I cover the book for the blog, along with other publications on the topic. Regardless of the interpretation, Choisy appears to have been a fascinating figure who sits somewhere in a sapphic-adjacent space.
Recent Lesbian/Sapphic Historical Fiction
Leaving aside memoirs that might be fiction, let’s take a look at new and forthcoming books that are clearly fiction. The vast majority of them are set in the 19th or 20th century which always leaves me hungering for a bit more variety. On the other hand, I think we’ve found all the August books that seemed to be missing last month. Some of the cover copy this month is on the long-winded side, so in some cases I’ve condensed it.
I found one July book not previously identified: Of Velvet and Stone by Catherine Martini from Djuna Publishers.
England, 1852.
In a world ruled by class and restraint, Lady Violet Bridgeman commands Hawthorn Manor with poise and precision. A widowed aristocrat bound by duty and tradition, she governs the estate with quiet authority—but her world shifts when a fall from her horse leaves her in the care of Charlotte Thorne, a reclusive woman who lives alone at the edge of the forest.
Charlotte is everything Violet is not—earth-bound and fiercely independent. Cast out from her family for loving another woman, she has chosen solitude over compromise, survival over society. But when circumstance forces the two women into close proximity, an undeniable tension grows between them—one that defies decorum, disrupts the safety of silence, and burns with unspoken longing.
There are a lot of August books that weren’t up yet when I did last month’s episode.
In the Wings by Charlotte Monet combines turn-of-the-century France with romance on the stage.
Paris, 1895. Where ballerinas are as expendable as bouquets tossed at their feet, nineteen-year-old Élise has one sacred rule: her body belongs to only the stage.
For a future beyond frugality and scraps, she has clawed her way up the ranks, enduring blistered feet and the gazes of obsessive patrons. When Monsieur Delaunay, a powerful benefactor of her ballet company, promotes Élise to principal in Giselle, it should be a dream come true. But the cost of her elevation begins to mount—first in favors, then in expectations, and finally in demands that make Élise question who truly controls her body after all.
As rehearsals and relations grow unbearable, Élise seeks solace in the one place she shouldn’t: the arms of her friend, a fellow ballerina. What begins as comfort turns into furtive glances and feelings that, if discovered, would leave both girls cast out and penniless on the streets. With opening night drawing closer, the curtain lifts on all the deceptions, and Élise, who has always been a model ballerina, must make the impossible choice: sacrifice her career to reclaim her autonomy, or risk love and freedom for the lure of the spotlight.
The setting for Bound to the Sea by Chloe Clarke isn’t entirely clear. The content tags say “Gilded Age” which generally refers to around 1900, but the plot is a fairly standard pirate romance which wouldn’t make any sense for that date. So perhaps just call it “Pirate Age” since the genre rarely aligns closely with history.
When Cassandra inherits her father's pirate ship, she doesn’t just take on a new title—she inherits a storm.
She must earn the respect of her crew and navigate a world where loyalty is as scarce as mercy. But amidst treacherous waters and whispered betrayals, Cassandra’s fate shifts with the arrival of a mysterious new crew member who doesn’t challenge her authority, but her heart.
What begins as a fight for survival becomes a voyage of self-discovery, love, and a daring quest for treasure that could change everything. In a world ruled by gold and blood, Cassandra must choose what kind of legend she wants to leave behind.
The Girl from Berlin by Johanna Weiss is a fictionalized true biography that has been told numerous times before about an unlikely romance in WWII Berlin.
Berlin, 1943. The city is a world of blackouts and air raids, of silence and suspicion. Lilly Wust, a young wife and mother, lives behind the facade of a dutiful German housewife—until a chance encounter shatters the life she thought she knew.
Felice Schragenheim is witty, daring, and reckless, a woman living under a false name in the heart of a city that wants her erased. Against all odds, and in the shadow of the Reich, she and Lilly begin an affair that is as intoxicating as it is dangerous.
Their love grows in stolen glances and whispered words, in hurried letters and secret meetings while bombs rain down around them. But with every risk they take, the walls close in tighter, and Lilly must face the cost of loving someone the world has marked for destruction.
Diverging from the focus on the last couple of centuries, but veering into an alternate timeline in which women could lead the Roman army, we have Hibernia: An Antiquity Sapphic Romance by Kimia Kore.
Augusta Valeria, one of the first female Roman centurions allowed into the Roman army after Caesar reforms the roles of women in Rome, travels to Hibernia with her commander father to subdue the final piece missing from Caesar's Roman Empire.
When an assault on her life by fellow Roman soldiers is thwarted by Eithne, a Hibernian girl, Augusta follows her into her world and soon becomes enraptured by how a Hibernian sisterhood can live without men. But as the hours pass and other Romans start searching for her, Augusta must choose between Rome and Hibernia—and learns that Eithne is not at all the simple redheaded young woman she first appeared to be.
A Lady Called Trouble by Lauren Leigh has a bit of a gothic air to it and feels like it must be set sometime during the 19th century.
Edwina feels instant regret after her sensible marriage to Edgar, which only intensifies when they reach his country home. Between Lady Caroline, the tempestuous ward he neglected to mention, his stark change of demeanour, and her heart's stubborn refusal to yield to him, she doesn't know what to think. The only thing she's sure of is that the way Lady Caroline gives her butterflies all through her body feels downright dangerous.
After leaving London in a swirl of vicious rumours - the truth of which she declines to comment on - Caroline has her own regrets. She seems to have a knack for falling for the wrong people and her cold-hearted guardian's country home feels like no place to nurse a bruised heart - but worst of all, she can't seem to stop thinking about her guardian's new wife.
As Caroline and Edwina grow closer and the ghosts of Edgar's past hang heavy over the house, will they all be able to find a path to happiness?
This next book has a somewhat odd background. The bio for the author, M.C. Collins, says she’s the niece and literary executor of New Zealand writer Susan M. Gaffney. Collins previously finished and published Eve of Kilcargin, an incomplete work from Gaffney exploring a lesbian romance. In the current book, The Mistress of Hannasbury, Collins has explored an imagined life for one of the side characters in Gaffney’s work. It isn’t clear if this story stands alone or should be read in combination with the first.
In 1926, five years on from the death of her husband, and her ignominious exit from a newly independent Ireland, Lady Pamela Collingwood of Kilcargin finds herself homeless when her wealthy lover abandons her for a younger woman. Estranged from her daughter and disowned by her sister, she turns to her old schoolfriend and ex-lover Grace: now the wife of an eccentric, social-climbing industrialist with dreams of becoming a champion racing driver. Pamela is offered sanctuary at their vast country estate on the edge of the Lincolnshire Fens, but the two old friends quickly discover that their schoolgirl attraction still simmers, shaking the foundations of Grace’s idyllic, yet unfulfilling marriage.
There are a couple of Jane Austen take-offs this month. The Scandal at Pemberley by Mara Brooks asks the question, what if Jane Bennet wasn’t quite what she seemed?
She was supposed to be the perfect bride. Instead, she became the greatest scandal of Pemberley.
Jane Bennet arrives at the grand estate expecting quiet refinement. What she finds is temptation in the form of Georgiana Darcy—shy, beautiful, and far too willing to risk everything behind locked doors and candlelit halls.
Whispers turn into secrets. Secrets turn into touches. And every touch risks exposure. Servants linger, shadows stir, and someone is always watching. Their passion is intoxicating, but discovery could mean ruin for them both.
September books start off with what looks like a very fun Regency: Ladies in Hating by Alexandra Vasti from St. Martin’s Griffin.
Celebrated authoress Lady Georgiana Cleeve has achieved fame and fortune. Unfortunately, she’s also acquired an enemy: the enigmatic Lady Darling, whose spine-tingling plots appear to be pulled straight from Georgiana’s own manuscripts. What’s a stubborn, steely writer to do? Unmask her rival, of course.
But unmasking doesn’t go according to plan—because Lady Darling is actually Cat Lacey, the butler’s daughter and object of Georgiana’s very secret, very embarrassing teenage infatuation.
Cat Lacey has spent a decade clawing her family out of poverty. The last thing she needs is to be distracted by the stunning(ly pretentious) Lady Georgiana Cleeve. But Cat can’t seem to escape her infuriatingly beautiful rival—including at the eerie manor where they both plan to set their next books. The plot unexpectedly thickens, however, when the novelists find themselves trapped in the manor together. In between ghostly moans and spectral staff, Cat and Georgiana come face-to-face with real danger: the scorching passion that’s been haunting their rivalry all along.
Time-travel stories hold an uncertain place in the historic genre, but this one looks intriguing: When the Light Pulls You Back by Carey Miller.
Buffalo, NY. 1986. Mina Melton has always been drawn to traces of the past — the fading lines of old buildings, the worn streets of her city, and the stories of women whose lives shaped the world in quiet, enduring ways. But when she and her best friend Lillian are pulled through time to the 1901 Pan-American Exposition, where the glittering surface hides a far less perfect reality, history becomes something more immediate. More fragile. More alive.
Caught between two centuries, the girls search for a way home and stumble instead upon a frightened child, a missing bag of coins, and the slow realization that the past cannot be separated from the present — or from the future. As they move through a world where women’s stories are so often lost or overlooked, Mina and Lillian begin to understand not only the weight of history, but the risks of the heart — and the truth of what they’ve meant to each other all along.
We have an interview later in this episode with Cathy Pegau, the author of A Murderous Business (A Harriman & Mancini Mystery) from Minotaur Books.
There can be a blurry line between what is ethical and what is legal.
Margot Baxter Harriman took the reins of B&H Foods after her father passed. It’s not easy being a business woman in 1912, but she is determined to continue what her grandparents started decades ago, no matter what it takes.
So when Margot finds Mrs. Gilroy, her father’s former assistant, dead in the office with a half-finished note confessing to nebulous misdeeds at B&H, she seeks out help from a very discreet, private investigator to figure out what's going on. Her company, and her good name, are at stake if scandal breaks...and she could lose everything, including her freedom.
Loretta “Rett” Mancini has run her father’s investigation operation since he started becoming increasingly forgetful. When Margot offers her the chance to look into the potential scandal with B&H, she jumps at the chance.
But the more the two dig in, the more it becomes clear that Margot's company may be too far lost...and someone is willing to kill them both to keep things quiet.
I’ve condensed the cover copy for Claiming the Tower (Council Mysteries #1) by Celia Lake. The story is set in the author’s elaborate alternate history in which magical communities interact with the history we know.
Hereswith is frustrated with the world. There’s the utter mismanagement of the war in the Crimea. While she moves among the diplomatic set of London, she’s limited in what she can do there by her gender and their assumptions. She has more scope within Britain’s magical community, but expectations hem her in there as well. Hereswith loves the times she can retreat to her family home, her father, and their library.
Bess has moved from house to house as companion to a series of increasingly difficult older women. Her current position has narrowed her world to tangled embroidery thread, small household tribulations, and dealing with her mistress’s whims and changes of mood.
When Hereswith and Bess begin to talk, both of them begin to wonder what the world might look like if things were a little different. Are they brave enough to change the world?
We have another pirate romance: Tides of Reckoning (Daughters Under the Black Flag #2) by Eden Hopewell.
Izzy Montgomery thought she’d found freedom when she traded silk gowns and societal expectations for the rough life of a pirate. But on the Poseidon’s Daughter, even among her newfound family, shadows linger. Haunted by a past she can’t outrun and the threat of the notorious pirate hunter James Morley looming over the horizon, Izzy is determined to prove herself worthy of Captain Blackthorn’s trust and earn her place among the fierce women of the crew.
Sailing the treacherous Caribbean waters alongside her best friend Gracie and her lover, Anne Marie, Izzy faces a new challenge: Morley’s power is on the rise, his influence reaching even the shores of Tortuga. When a risky mission to infiltrate his inner circle goes disastrously wrong, Izzy and Gracie disappear, swallowed by the very world they sought to conquer.
If you enjoyed the book or movie Hidden Figures, then To the Moon and Back by Eve Noble is going to be right up your alley. I’ve condensed the cover copy a bit.
Two brilliant minds. One impossible equation.
Gloria Johnson can calculate lunar trajectories in her sleep, but as a Black woman at NASA in 1969, she's stuck typing other people's equations. Then she gets paired with Dr. Katrina Ivanova—the mysterious Russian defector who challenges every equation she thought she'd mastered.
Katrina Ivanova fled the Soviet Union for scientific freedom, only to find herself trapped by American bureaucracy. Her mother is still in Moscow, and the security chief holding her visa hostage wants one thing: intel on Gloria's family and their civil rights activities.
Professional competition turns personal fast. Gloria introduces Katrina to Star Trek. Katrina makes Gloria traditional Russian tea. Soon, their rivalry becomes something much more dangerous: attraction.
The social dynamics in Lady Like by Mackenzi Lee from Dial Press strike me as decidedly implausible, but if you’re in for a Regency romp that doesn’t worry about such things, check it out. Again, I’ve condensed a little.
Harriet Lockhart never planned to marry. The educated daughter of a high-class prostitute, Harry has spent her life defying expectations all while being subsidized by her late mother’s trust. When she is contacted out of the blue by her hitherto anonymous father, she finds herself at risk of losing the trust that he actually funds unless she acquiesces to his request that she lead a more respectable life, starting with finding a husband.
Emily Sergeant has only ever wanted to marry. If not for one mistake in her youth that rendered her a social pariah, she would be appropriately betrothed. Desperate for an alternative to the only man willing to marry her, Emily flees to London.
Worlds collide, dramatically and hilariously, when both women decide on the very same duke as their best possible chance at a tolerable husband and the security that he brings. In a tongue-in-cheek romp, Harry and Emily compete for the duke's favor, only to find their true hearts' desires may be more compatible than they ever could have predicted.
Our second Jane Austen novel is The Shocking Experiments of Miss Mary Bennet by Melinda Taub from Grand Central Publishing.
Mary Bennet is the middlest middle child of all time. Awkward, plain, and overlooked, she’s long been out of favor not only with her own family but with generations of readers of Pride and Prejudice.
But what was Mary really doing while her sisters were falling in love? Well, what does any bright, intrepid girl do in an age when brains and hard work are only valued if they come with a pretty face? Take to the attic and teach herself to reanimate the dead of course. The world refuses to make a place for peculiar Mary, but no Bennet sister ever gives up on happiness that easily. If it won’t give this fierce, lonely girl a place, she’ll carve one out herself. And if finding acceptance requires a husband, she’ll get one. Even if she has to make him herself, too.
However, Mary’s genius and determination aren’t enough to control what she unwittingly unleashes. Her desperate attempts to rein in the destruction wreaked by her creations leads her to forge a perhaps unlikely friendship with another brilliant young woman unlike any she’s ever known. As that friendship blossoms into something passionate and all-consuming, Mary begins to realize that she may have to choose between the acceptance she’s always fought for and true happiness.
The Crooked Medium's Guide to Murder by Stephen Cox takes the Victorian obsession with spiritualism in an unexpected direction.
London 1881. Can two crooked women stop a murder?
Extravagant medium Mrs Ashton and her lover, blunt working-class Mrs Bradshaw, run a spiritualist scam. Mrs Ashton secretly reads minds.
Grieving Lady Violet craves the truth behind her mother’s untimely death. But Lady Violet’s powerful husband Sir Charles hates spiritualists. Has he killed before?
Uncovering this MP’s wicked crimes puts all three women in terrible danger…
To solve a shocking murder, look both sides of the grave.
A joyous romp with a serious core. Taking a wry look at Victorian hypocrisy, this twisty and gripping thriller goes from dockland slums to a country estate and the Old Bailey. Aided by Maisie - the sharpest and smartest dock-lass detective ever - they struggle to bring a powerful man to justice. Whatever laws they have broken, these rogues cannot stomach murder. This extraordinary case threatens all their certainties - it could divide them forever. And if Mrs Ashton were to run into Mr Sherlock Holmes, she could teach him a thing or two.
Sixteenth-century Holland is the setting for I Am You by Victoria Redel from SJP Lit. The author indicates it’s a reimagining of the biography of a real-life painter.
At eight years old, Gerta Pieters is forced to disguise herself as a boy and sent to work for a genteel Dutch family. When their brilliant and beautiful daughter Maria sees through Gerta’s ruse, she insists that Gerta accompany her to Amsterdam and help her enter the elite, male-dominated art world.
While Maria rises in the ranks of society as a painting prodigy, Gerta makes herself invaluable in every way: confidante, muse, lover. But as Gerta steps into her own talents, their relationship fractures into a complex web of obsession and rivalry—and the secrets they keep threaten to unravel everything.
Other Books of Interest
This month, the “other books of interest” section contains several titles that just felt a little “off” without raising full alarm bells. I’m including them with a brief description, but with caveats.
Dora Copperfield: A Quiet Bloom by Kit Indigo from Rose Angel Publishing is a re-imagining of the story of Dora from Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield. It’s always interesting to imagine an interior life for characters who weren’t given one by their original authors, but the cover copy feels oddly generic to me. Dora is given a personal awakening and a sapphic romance.
When I came across the listing for The Book of Susan by Roxanna di Bella and looked into the author’s other titles, it became clear that she has a standard modus operandi that makes her biography and the entire body of work look like a work of fiction itself. Di Bella has published 10 books in the last 3 years, all historical stories that she claims are based on actual documentation—letters, diaries, etc.—that have come into her hands, either due to a family connection or due to relatives of the book’s subject entrusting the materials to her. There’s a common theme that the story has been suppressed due to the lesbian aspects, but is now being made public with the names changed. (Which, of course, makes it impossible to research the truth of the claims.) If the books had simply been presented as invented fictions, they wouldn’t have raised my suspicions, but the repeated pattern of claiming secret documentary sources just feels…off. The Book of Susan concerns suppressed information from the Dead Sea Scrolls giving hints of same-sex relations among early Christians. A Flower in Auschwitz involves a WWII concentration camp romance between a nurse and a prisoner. If you’re curious about her earlier titles, they’re linked to these in the Amazon records.
What Am I Reading?
And what have I been reading? Checking my notes, it appears to have been just two audiobooks. After enjoying the tv series of Murderbot by Martha Wells, I’ve decided to try the books again, starting with All Systems Red. I’d read one of the later books a couple years ago and rather bounced off it due to the percentage of blow-by-blow battle scenes. All Systems Red worked better for me, so maybe I just needed to start at the beginning and get more invested in the characters.
I also listened to the audiobook of Ann Leckie’s short story collection Lake of Souls. This is a combination of stories set in two of the worlds of her longer works, plus a number of stand-alones. The title story is one of the best depictions of an alien culture I’ve seen in a long time. Leckie’s handling of aliens reminds me a lot of C.J. Cherryh.
I plan to have some reading time during my New Zealand trip, so maybe I’ll have a better account next month.
Author Guest
We have an interview this month with author Cathy Pegau about her new book.
[Interview transcript will be added when available.]
In this episode we talk about:
Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online
Links to Heather Online
Links to Cathy Pegau Online