LGBTQIA+ Young Adult Literature


Review: A Harvest of Ripe Figs by Shira Glassman

by Jennifer Polish

Cover page for A Harvest of Ripe Figs, by Shira Glassman. A red parchment-esque background behind a violin and several purple figs, one of which is sliced in half, its lush red insides facing the front.

Cover page for A Harvest of Ripe Figs, by Shira Glassman. A red parchment-esque background behind a violin, its bow, and several purple figs, one of which is sliced in half, its lush red insides facing the front.

Esther of the Singing Hands is Perach’s Sweetheart, a young and beautiful musician with a Girl Next Door image. When her violin is stolen after a concert in the capital city, she doesn’t expect the queen herself to show up, intent upon solving the mystery.

But Queen Shulamit–lesbian, intellectual, and mother of the six month old crown princess–loves to play detective. With the help of her legendary bodyguard Rivka and her dragon, and with the support of her partner Aviva the Chef, Shulamit turns her mind toward the solution–which she quickly begins to suspect involves the use of illegal magic that could threaten the safety of her citizens.

I don’t do mysteries. Not typically, not unless there are queers and solid politics that don’t glorify the criminal legal system or some futuristic/mythical allegory thereof.

I don’t do mysteries, but I fell helplessly in love with Shira Glassman’s A Harvest of Ripe Figs the way I fell helplessly in love with the older sister of the main character of my dear friend’s manuscript.

(Forgive the obnoxious string of relationships: they seem appropriate, somehow, for mystery settings in fantastical realms.)

Glassman’s tale is not your typical detective story. Centering on relationships rather than masculinized, racialized perversions of justice, and domestic fluff rather than gore, Glassman brings readers deeply into the land of Perach, where dragons and gluten-free challah coexist with full-bodied lesbians and a trans kid of color whose story has the opposite of a tragic ending.

The gloss above gives away about as much of the plot as I’m comfortable doing without interfering with the delight of the twists and turns of relationships and mystery throughout the tale. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t more to say about Glassman’s work, for which beautiful fanart can often be found on her tumblr page.

As one reviewer describes on goodreads, this is domestic LGBTQIA fluff. FLUFFY fluff. And it works beautifully.

Whereas a great deal of queer fiction takes an overall serious tone and surrounding itself with conflicts of epic proportions, this is literally a story about a mystery-solving lesbian queen, who is almost constantly accompanied by her best friends (queer family!), wife, and baby. While there are references to off-page, non-lethal transphobic violence and a strong current of awareness of misogynist violence (particularly in one scene where Shulamit, the MC, is alone with a man who has impersonated her guard), queer readers across the board are surely thirsty for the relative dearth of violence and grief that this text contains.

Featuring QPOC all across the board, including trans and gender nonconforming characters, the protagonist is a full-bodied cis lesbian who is neither concerned with her weight nor, primarily, with her sexuality (though it structures her life in a lovely, refreshing — need I say it again? FLUFFY — way).

The land the characters inhabit is also predominantly Jewish, something a lot of queer Jews I know (including the Jewish-Catholic homos like me!) passionately need. All of this comes off as incredibly real, as Glassman herself is queer and Jewish, and many subplots, characterizations, and side stories are based on her own life experiences.

This is an important point, because I always worry that calls for “diverse” representation, in the wrong hands, can fetishize “inclusivity” for its own, “marketable” sake. However, despite the wide swath of people that A Harvest of Ripe Figs represents, I don’t feel like it tokenizes or makes a laundry list out of characters, because no identity comes off as monolithic.

For example, there is a moment during which the MC, Shulamit, misgenders another character, Micah, based on her assumption that he is a gender nonconforming, male-passing woman, like her lover. Significantly, this moment does not become a revelatory, celebrated learning moment for the cis queen; instead, it becomes a moment of quiet humility during which she is called out by her friends; and the power is Micah’s to forgive her for her misreading of his gender. Shulamit gets no cookies for correcting herself and apologizing; that story arch remains about Micah, not about Shulamit, and it culminates with Micah’s happy, happy ending.

This. Is. Amazing.

A catch, however, follows: this review contains some important critiques of this happy, magical transition-style ending for Micah that I feel compelled to write to here. Though I’m a cis queer woman (significantly, like the MC and author of this text), I felt some hesitation about Micah’s happy ending (spoilers ahead!): his body transformed with a magical crystal that “ripened” him (such a great concept), which is cool and happy for him, but I worry (even as I hesitate to say because it’s not my place to make this judgment) that this could be seen as implying that trans characters need magical body-changing transformations, bestowed by benevolent cis characters, in order to access a happy ending. However, since it was also very clear that Micah was an individual, not a mindless representation of everyone who seems — on the surface — to be like him, I think it came off as fine because Micah as an individual clearly wanted this ripening crystal and the effects it had on his body.

So, magically or not, he gets what is, for him, a happy ending.

Something all too rare — and to be wary of at the same time — in a YA market in which white cis people (like myself) have more opportunities to publish “representations” of “the lives” of TPOC than are TPOC themselves.

While we’re on the subject of the politics of representation, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the hella feminism in this text, which is beautifully ever present and quite, quite explicit.

Some feminist readers might find a bunch of the dialogue and internal narration too straight-forward, perhaps: for example, Shulamit often thinks to herself and speaks to others very directly about feminism. This is great and refreshing, of course, except it also has the potential to feel none-too-subtle in terms of the narration.

However, the reason it struck me as jarring is not the directness (ohhh, the direct conversations that take place over dinner and netflix at our apartment!), but because the language she was using almost felt like it was jarring in the world Glassman had created. As a fellow writer of YA fantasy, one of my biggest struggles in my own work is to keep the language clean of contemporary U.S. expressions in an otherwise otherwordly, different-language-convention-using setting. But, Glassman’s strong efforts to weave this world into her own merits, in my eyes, an acceptance of these blunt narrative tools.

Overall, A Harvest of Ripe Figs is as refreshing as the title suggests it might be, providing readers with both an antidote to and an escape from the dystopian reality around us.

Glassman has created a world in which QPOC are not ensured a miserable ending simply because they exist. She has created a haven for imagining new worlds while refusing to ignore the broken realities of this one. And she has created a system of magic that grants trans characters who want their bodies to match their identities a much better form of health care than do insurance companies in this country.

All of this reminds us keenly that fantasy need not ignore this world’s systematic oppressions to offer an escape from, and dream an alternative to, the present.

Shira Glassman imagines a world that very much honors the fact that fiction does not need more dystopias; no, Perach is very intimately aware that this world — the non-fiction we navigate in our daily lives — is quite dystopian enough.

Instead, Perach provides us with a largely fluffy, domestic queer adventure that spotlights chosen family, happy and safe queers of color, full-figured folks whose sexiness is a given, and the power of interdependent love in the midst of an age of independent death.

Jennifer Polish is an adjunct English professor at CUNY LaGuardia College and PhD student in English at the CUNY Graduate Center. When she’s not working on her debut YA fantasy novel (so queer that she felt the need to include some token straight cis characters), she is likely to be reading or writing about YA literature for school, sweating an absurd amount at the gym or on the basketball court, or writing fan fiction in small, dark corners.

By | August 16th, 2016|Categories: Book Review|Tags: , , , , , , , , |0 Comments

When the Queer Lit Was Enough

by Ryy Dickerson

When people halfheartedly say that Young Adult literature is extremely white, I laugh. Being a person of color and queer means often times I find myself in a young adult book either as the gay character or the character of color. Not too often do I get a chance to see myself as both, and if I do it is through the lenses of a white gaze; meaning the black queer character is a side kick or a vague love interest to the white protagonist. I remember after finishing GIOVANNI’S ROOM by James Baldwin (Not YA) I did research and realized that the decision for the main character to be white was ultimately due to the idea that a main black queer character wouldn’t sell to the public. Now this book was written many moons ago, but that realization had followed me into my reading journey where I tried to focus on finding Young Adult books with characters I can relate to. However, I find myself having to do ten times the research in finding good books with accurate representation. On one hand, I find amazing YA novels that have a great way of showcasing what it means to a member of the queer community. At the same time the novels tell it from a juliet takes a breathWhite cis perspective, which is fine but that’s not me. The way white gay man operate day to day and the privilege & oppression they deal with doesn’t fully reflect me or all members of this community. On the otherside of the coin, being a person of color and reading novels about straight characters of color is also difficult because that too is not fully me, and it sells a narrative that I know I’ve never lived. If we look at books like ARISTOTLE and DANTE, MORE HAPPY THAN NOT, JULIET TAKES A BREATH; books that have been receiving a lot of conversation lately, it’s because they involve characters if color who are also queer. We realize that the praise (outside of it being because they are all amazing books) is because they also involve representation that people don’t often see. I imagine it can be refreshing for white readers to read books with characters of color as the protagonist, as it is very much validating for the readers of color.

We spend a lot of time calling for more diversity in young adult literature and challenging norms but in doing so we might be ignoring a new norm developing — one that causes books that involve characters who are both queer, gender non-conforming, or trans and of color to be viewed as a rarity. There is a quote floating around twitter by the author of CLIMBING THE STAIRS and ISLAND’S END, Padma Venkatraman. “If you’re only reading white LGBTQ characters, perhaps you’re perpetuating another stereotype.” I would also like to tact on the idea that if you’re only writing white LGBTQ characters you’re perpetuating another stereotype as well, one that forces white, typically cis characters to the forefront as poster children for queer lit in young adult. This phenomenon of centering whiteness happens often in the queer community and across all platforms, just recently there was a movie made that pushed real queer and trans people of color to the side the tell the story of stonewall through a cis white gaze.

It’s always really weird when I find a black character who is queer – or straight — in a young adult novel, because many times we are side characters, like a checklist. I wanna get to a point with queer literature in the Young Adult category (but also across all categories) that I’m at with white gay male protagonist. Before, I used to have to search high and low for book with a queer protagonist, and now, I have to search high and low for a book with a queer protagonist of color. I know that libraries will have an lgbt section that will give me shelves upon shelves of white protagonist to pick from, and I want to be able to have the same ari and danteamount of options when it comes to characters of color, in particular African American characters, who are allowed to be unapologetically queer and black and be the center of attention.

It’s exhausting not being able to see myself in literature, so when I find books like PROXY and when countless other people of color find books with characters of color who are queer, and closely relate to them, we have to hold these books near to us because we know deep down that we are typically not what people mean when they speak about wanting more LGBT representation in YA; and even with this YA short story I’m writing I find it so refreshing when I go back to reread for edits because I know it’s about Queer people of color. I know it’s more me than many books I’ve read.

I think it makes a lot of people comfortable to apply cis and white characters to the role of LGBT as a whole, both white and persons of color. Which to me seems like hiding behind the privilege and security that will come with having a queer white character as the protagonist; the same security and privilege that made James Baldwin make his character, who I argue was a reflection of his journey through Paris, a cis white male. Ultimately, my fear is I do not want the call for diversity within young adult literature to be seen years later as something that pushed white queer, typically male characters the forefront of what we were asking for. There should be enough room on bookshelves for everybody.

unnamed (1)Ryy Dickerson, known as DemBooksDoee on the internet is a book blogger who is (finally) on his last leg of undergrad double majoring in sociology and English with a double minor in performance theatre and dance. He is crazy about queer representation and has a soft spot for classic LGBT novels and authors who paved the way for he and so many readers to have the books they have today. When he isn’t reading he’s out traveling, running around to auditions or sharing his poetry and short stories to anyone who will listen. He hopes that one day the world will be a better, more intersectional & inclusive space for everyone under (and outside) the rainbow. He can be contacted through dembooksdoee.wordpress.com or on twitter @Dembooksdoee


By | August 15th, 2016|Categories: Guest Blogs, Readers on Reading|Tags: , , , , |0 Comments

On the Queer Trans Experience: Because Sometimes Just One Letter Ain’t Enough

by Meredith Russo 

One of the things most often praised about my book If I Was Your Girl isn’t the book itself, but the author’s note at the end (or the beginning, depending on if you’re reading the ARC or the final print) where I lay out my hope that cis people won’t take Amanda’s rather normative story as a set of rules trans people must follow and, more importantly for this post, where I admit that I had to make some concessions so the story would be more palatable for them. Let’s talk about those concessions, because they’re something I still think about a lot. Let’s talk about one in particular.

Making Amanda completely heterosexual was a pretty minor concession since it fit with her character anyway, but it was still kind of a Thing for me. I don’t know what to call myself moment to moment, but I’m sure as heck not straight, I’m more attracted to women than anything, and this was a HUGE problem for me when I was a teenager. My dysphoria wasn’t very bad when I was a little kid because masculinity wasn’t really imposed on me by my parents (I was still too scared to do anything overtly feminine where people could see) and, honestly, if I were cis I would have been a pretty big tomboy. Things got bad when I hit puberty though; I knew something was wrong, I knew I felt twisted and detached inside, and I knew I had to do something about it, but there was a problem.

if i was your girlEven if pop culture hadn’t convinced me from my earliest memory that a trans woman is one of the worst things a person can be (and that’s a big if), the fact that I was attracted to girls made my actually being trans impossible, because this was the early aughts and even after some pensive googling the best info I could find labeled me an “autogynephile” (google that if you feel like getting angry and depressed). So I came out as bi at thirteen, hoping that would relieve some of the pressure, and while it did it still wasn’t much. A few years after that I came out as gay, insisting that I only liked men because, for some reason (hyuck) I couldn’t handle how it felt to be with a girl as a boy, and the only time I ever really felt okay was when a boy made me feel desired and pretty in a way I now recognize, looking back, as how I imagined boys treated girls. Ask me about cognitive dissonance some time, because I am old hat.

So, obviously, that didn’t work. I eventually found a bunch of real, actual trans women online in my first few years of college, came to terms with the idea of being trans, and started processing that. But my attraction to girls was still a huge problem. I could never quite shake the idea that this made me that word, autogynephile, a freak who fetishized the idea of myself as a woman rather than a woman who happened to be attracted to other women. Other people didn’t really help, as the most common reaction from cis people I told was, “So, wait, if you’re into girls why transition at all?” As if loving a woman as a man and loving a woman as a woman are equivalent (believe you me, they’re not), as if straight trans women are just extremely gay men and gay trans women are… well, you get the idea.

I don’t think I really learned to feel completely okay about it until two years ago when I read A Safe Girl to Love by Casey Plett, which features more than a few short stories about trans women with cis women and, gasp, scandal, other trans women! I know, right? But it happens, and honestly it rules. I recommend it. Anyway, the relationships in the book aren’t all happy — many are dysfunctional or worse, but they’re still there, and the women in them understand themselves as queer, bi, or gay, and that isn’t questioned by the narrators, and that meant so much to me. Can you imagine if I had seen something like that in a movie, a TV show, or, more germane to the topic at hand, a YA novel when I was younger? Can you imagine how that might have changed my life? Because I can. I think about it a lot.

I’m sad that wasn’t something I could find a way to include in If I Was Your Girl. I intend to depict a more diverse trans experience in future books, but until then, hey, consider this an opportunity for you to do better. I promise I’ll be first in line to buy that book.

Meredith Russo is the author of If I Was Your Girl, a novel about a trans girl informed, in many ways, by her own experience as a trans woman. She currently lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, with her two wonderful children and her cat. When she isn’t writing she can be found sitting around a kitchen table pretending to be elves and orcs with her friends, playing retro console games, and sitting back wondering how she stumbled into a life this good.
By | June 30th, 2016|Categories: Archive, Author Guest Blog, Blogathon 2016, Writers on Writing|Tags: , , |Comments Off on On the Queer Trans Experience: Because Sometimes Just One Letter Ain’t Enough

Interview: Vee sits down with David Levithan & Nina Lacour

I had the INCREDIBLE opportunity to be able to sit down with David Levithan & Nina Lacour when they came to Addendum Books on the You Know Me Well book tour. This was literally one of the best experiences of my life and I am so thankful to the authors for taking the time to do this and to everyone else who had a hand in making this possible. We got to talk about the new narratives You Know Me Well brings to the table of LGBTQIA+ YA, how the collaboration on YKMW began, and what its existence means in the wake of the Orlando shooting. This interview meant SO much to me, and I hope that everyone is able to get something out of watching it! You can also check out my review of You Know Me Well here.

We ended up doing the interview right outside a gym (it was actually one of the quietest places!) so that’s where all the background noises are from. 🙂 We will also be adding subtitles as soon as possible!

Lastly… You Know Me Well is GayYA’s June Recommendation! We’ll be hosting an hour long #GayYABookClub Twit Chat TONIGHT, June 29th, at 8pm EST– come join us! We’ll try and keep it spoiler free, so feel free to lurk/participate even if you haven’t read the book!

Who knows you well? Your best friend? Your boyfriend or girlfriend? A stranger you meet on a crazy night? No one, really?

Mark and Kate have sat next to each other for an entire year, but have never spoken. For whatever reason, their paths outside of class have never crossed.

That is, until Kate spots Mark miles away from home, out in the city for a wild, unexpected night. Kate is lost, having just run away from a chance to finally meet the girl she has been in love with from afar. Mark, meanwhile, is in love with his best friend Ryan, who may or may not feel the same way.

When Kate and Mark meet up, little do they know how important they will become to each other—and how, in a very short time, they will know each other better than any of the people who are supposed to know them more.

Told in alternating points of view by Nina LaCour and David Levithan, You Know Me Well is a story about navigating the joys and heartaches of first love, one truth at a time.

By | June 29th, 2016|Categories: Archive, Author Interview, Blogathon 2016, Book Club, Fun Things, New Releases, Teen Voices|Tags: , , , , , , , , , |Comments Off on Interview: Vee sits down with David Levithan & Nina Lacour

Interview: Eleanor Herman, author of the Blood of Gods and Royals series


Empire of Dust by Eleanor Herman

In Macedon, war rises like smoke, forbidden romance blooms and ancient magic tempered with rage threatens to turn an empire to dust

After winning his first battle, Prince Alexander fights to become the ruler his kingdom demands—but the line between leader and tyrant blurs with each new threat.

Meanwhile, Hephaestion, cast aside by Alexander for killing the wrong man, must conceal the devastating secret of a divine prophecy from Katerina even as the two of them are thrust together on a dangerous mission to Egypt.

The warrior, Jacob, determined to forget his first love, vows to eradicate the ancient Blood Magics and believes that royal prisoner Cynane holds the key to Macedon’s undoing.

And in chains, the Persian princess Zofia still longs to find the Spirit Eaters, but first must grapple with the secrets of her handsome—and deadly—captor.

New York Times bestselling author Eleanor Herman entwines the real scandals of history with epic fantasy to reimagine the world’s most brilliant ruler, Alexander the Great, in the second book of the Blood of Gods and Royals series.

Hi, Eleanor! Thanks for joining us on GayYA to talk about Empire of Dust, the second book in your Blood of Gods and Royals series! I’m thrilled to be chatting with you as I just finished up Empire and I am completely in love with this series. First, I’m going to try and do this interview without any spoilers…which is hard, but I think we can manage.  –Katherine Locke

  1. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that Alexander of Legacy of Kings, the first book in the series, is based on Alexander the Great and so the historical figure’s sexuality comes into play in Legacy and much more in Empire. How important was it to you to include Alexander’s sexuality? And how would you say your Alexander identifies?

Historical records indicate that as a teenager Alexander was so ambivalent about girls it worried his parents—not because there was something bad or wrong about being gay (it was considered merely a matter of personal preference at the time,), but because the king and queen wanted grandchildren! So his mother and father hired a ravishing young courtesan named Kallixena to seduce him, but we don’t know if she actually did. We do know they didn’t get grandchildren from her. Some sources say Alexander never touched the 365 women in King Darius’s harem when he conquered Persia. We do know that when he finally married his first of three brides at twenty-seven, he was head over heels in love and had a child with her.

There’s no doubt that he deeply loved his best friend, Hephaestion, and called him a second version of himself. Many people after Alexander’s death thought they were gay lovers, and it’s certainly a possibility, but we have no records from the time saying so.

I picture Alexander as a person focused on ideas, strategy, and action. In the series, while Hephaestion and Jacob are sexually very interested in girls, Alexander prefers to have an emotional or intellectual connection with them.

  1. How did your understanding of Alexander change as his sexuality plays out more on the page? Did you find yourself writing him differently? Did it open up more plotlines for him or did it close doors?

Some of my other characters couple up and initially I wanted to give Alexander a girlfriend, boyfriend, or both. But the more I studied Alexander, and the more I got into the character’s mind, it just didn’t seem right. While Alexander flirts with romance in Empire of Dust, he doesn’t get physical like the other characters. He’s focused on ruling, winning, becoming a great king. The needs of the body aren’t that important to him.  According to historical records, when he went on campaign, he could put up with heat, cold, hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and pain without a complaint.  He turned down the beautiful girls and boys offered to him at every city. I think he lived mostly in his mind.

  1. Did you ever worry that you’d get pushback from your publisher/editor/marketing team because of Alexander’s identity?

No, I have an incredibly supportive team at Harlequin Teen. Plus, there’s a whole genre of YA LGBTQIA+ fiction these days. The Blood of Gods and Royals series can’t really be put in that category, but it does address Alexander’s rather perplexing sexuality as part of the historical past.

  1. There are many intertwining storylines and characters in both Legacy and Empire. How did you choose your characters? Are they all based on historical figures?

The historical characters are Alexander, his parents King Philip and Queen Olympias (who really was considered a witch and did keep snakes in her bedroom), his half-sister Cynane, Hephaestion, his tutor Aristotle, and Great King Darius of Persia. I invented the other characters as new threads to weave into the historical story, threads of magic, conflict and darkness.

I also wanted these fictional characters to show what life was like away from the glitter of the palace. So Katerina and Jacob are raised by a potter in a tiny village and know what hunger feels like. Zofia of Sardis, though she has grown up in a luxurious Persian palace, soon finds herself captured by slave traders and goes on a physically demanding, psychologically demeaning journey with every privilege gone. The world of Alexander’s time was as multi-dimensional as our own is today, and when my readers close my books I want them to say two things. The first is, “Wow! That was an amazing ride.” And the second is, “I know so much now about ancient Greece and Persia.” I call it stealth education. You sort of sneak it in there while the readers are enjoying themselves.

  1. Tell me about your research process, especially as it pertains to depictions of sexuality of that time period.

There are many fascinating books on sexuality in the ancient world, and I’ve probably read them all. Anyone interested in learning more should go to bookfinder.com and in the title box search for “sexuality ancient world.” In order to write authentically about a different place and time, you need to have two streams of research. One is the things that people used: the houses, food, clothing, transportation, lighting, heating, medicine, and weapons. The other is the ideas that affected people’s lives: religion, government, conquest, philosophy, and issues regarding slavery, women, and sexuality. You need to have a good grasp of them all before you sit down to write because on any single day in any character’s life they were all important.

  1. Empire of Dust takes Alexander to a new and darker place. What’s it like writing a character who seems to be straying farther from the person he imagined himself to be?

In Empire of Dust, Alexander deals with the pressures of ruling as regent of Macedon in his father’s absence. While it was easy for him to criticize his father’s decisions, now that Alexander is in charge he has a new appreciation of how hard it is to rule. Everything seems to be falling apart as he deals with invading warriors, pirates, and Persian spies. In his desperate attempts to make people respect and fear him, he launches into a brutal direction that isn’t who he really is.

Sometimes we all stray far from the people we imagine ourselves to be. It can be a good thing, getting in touch with who we really are rather than who we pretend to be or who others want us to be. Sometimes it’s a bad thing when we venture into areas that simply aren’t right for us. Even those cases, though, can have an upside. We learn the lesson, correct our course, and get back on track.

  1. Any advice to aspiring authors writing LGBTQIA+ characters?

I would tell them to remember that our sexuality, while certainly important, is usually not the single defining aspect of who we are. We are first and foremost kind and funny, supportive and smart, courageous and compassionate.  We are loving sons and daughters, caring friends, and inspirational co-workers. And we are also gay, straight, bi, asexual, or transgender. So I would advise aspiring authors to make sure their LGBTQIA+ characters are well nuanced and fully human, not a cardboard cut-out with a label on his forehead that says GAY.

Unfortunately, we live in a world of such labels.  Alexander’s society did not. They didn’t care who someone loved, and in that respect they were way ahead of us.


Thank you so much and we’re so happy to be adding Empire of Dust to the LGBTQIA+ YA shelves!  Empire of Dust is out TODAY, so go pick it up!

New York Times best-seller Eleanor Herman brings her skills as a historian to an exciting new Young Adult series on Alexander the Great at sixteen, the four-book Legacy of Kings: Blood of Gods and Royals. Eleanor has hosted shows for The History Channel and the National Geographic Channel on Henry VIII, the ancient Greek city of Aphrodisias, and the Hindenburg. She is an expert commentator on numerous episodes of a national show coming out this fall.

Eleanor lives with her husband, their black lab, and her four very dignified cats in McLean, VA. She is a member of the National Press Club, where she often moderates book events, a queen mother of Cameroon, an elections officer, and a volunteer for the aging in Fairfax County, VA. She can be found online at www.eleanorherman.com

By | June 28th, 2016|Categories: Archive, Author Interview, Blogathon 2016, New Releases, Writers on Writing|Tags: , , , , , |Comments Off on Interview: Eleanor Herman, author of the Blood of Gods and Royals series