Queerphoria: An Own Voices anthology celebrating queer joy (VERVE Voices Book 1)

I write this in June 2026 in the UK, where this book is being published. Our government institution for equality has recently released new guidance clarifying that I’m not equal at all. Everywhere I look my trans siblings are being killed for being themselves. A rich gay guy has just released a TV series saying “homophobia is bad” and people are acting as though this is a controversial statement. We’re sliding backwards.

Into this maelstrom comes Queerphoria, a collection of short stories about queer joy, which I was lucky enough to read via NetGalley. I was hoping this book would be a stirring call to arms, something to ignite the passions and inspire resistance as it reminded us all why we came out in the first place, trying to show more find and nurture that tiny spark of realisation that makes all the bullshit worth wading through. What I found was slightly different.

NetGalley in all their infinite wisdom decided to remove access to the book before I could write this review, therefore I can’t namecheck the appropriate authors directly - thanks for that - but to me the best pieces here are excellent: weighty, oscillating with meaning and power whilst slipping a precise blade into the centre of my brain. The story about a widow returning to her family home after it had been converted into a gay bar hit very hard, layering the loss and regret of mourning someone else as well as the loss of the you that could’ve been, all while trying to be a functional human as drama unfolds around you. The story about the lighthouse keepers painted a rich oil painting of love, trust and security, the stability of the stone anchoring the emotions despite the winds of doubt assailed against them. I would mention more but my short-term memory is bad; suffice to say that I remember that there were multiple great moments scattered throughout, striking my brain, heart and gut frequently and powerfully.

However I found the stories describing joy within the mundane to be annoyingly complacent at this instant - if I don’t have a magical lesbian house of comfort and support to live in, hearing someone describe one pushes me towards jealousy and resentment - more a reflection on me than the book to be honest. And the piece turned in by the excellent Soula Emmanuel (whose Wild Geese reduced me to a wreck last year) was very well-written but cramped and stifled by its brevity.

The book is definitely good and is worthy of your support, but it seems to be less a strident treatise about finding joy despite adversity and more an all-rounder, trying to cover all bases at once. I should be more balanced I suppose, the fact that any publisher is willing to print queer perspectives is to be lauded right now, but my heart was longing for a bright Molotov Cocktail of a book instead of a buffet. show less