3 Books About Asexuality for Your 2020 Reading List
It’s 2020, and what better way to start a new year and a new decade than by adding more ace books to either your bookshelf or a loved one’s. Like with my earlier roundups, these books vary in style and subject matter, from science fiction to philosophy. Whether you’re ace, questioning, or an ally, each book on the list is worth a look.
Here are 3 books about asexuality to help you jumpstart 2020:
1. The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker
I first learned about Decker’s book from a professor at my MFA program. She knew I had recently started writing about my own experiences with asexuality and thought Decker’s book might be useful. Months later, I’m grateful she said something, because if I had to suggest a book for sexuality courses, this would be it.
Decker’s book is educational, but it’s also personal and patient, like a letter from a particularly good teacher. Her book is broken into six sections, starting with Asexuality 1010 and ending with a long, comprehensive list of resources. Outside of online sources, I’ve never seen a compilation this exhaustive, and there were several resources I’d never heard of before. Adding to its usefulness, the book has a section specifically for people who think they might be ace, as well as a section for allies who want to learn more about asexuality.
In each section, Decker explains both what asexuality is and is not. She attacks the idea that love and sex must be intertwined, saying that “Sex can and does happen without love and it is ‘real’ sex, so why would love require sex to be desired or performed before it can be considered ‘real?’” She also critiques the general lack of asexual content, explaining that lack of representation further permeates the myth that asexuality doesn’t really exist. She then breaks down several other myths about asexuality, including masturbatory habits, kinks, and attraction types. Over and over, Decker states that “orientation is not the same thing as behavior,” explaining that a person’s sexual activities don’t always equate to what they feel. She also includes a common critiques Bingo card and argues against each assumption.
Several concepts in the book were newer to me, like that of a queerplatonic relationship, which is “a platonic relationship, but it is “queered” in some way — not friends, not romantic partners, but something else.” This is just one instance of Decker discussing the broad spectrum of relationship types, thus arguing that there are more categories than friendship, romance, and love. Decker also introduced me to the idea of “unassailable asexuals,” who “lack all the traits often blamed for asexuality, and therefore supposedly make good spokespeople since they are, for all intents and purposes, impervious to criticism.” However, she explains that using such individuals as asexual hallmarks can be problematic — a diverse range of individuals are asexual, and these people have different genders, libidos, appearances, ages, personalities, and medical needs. Just like there isn’t a perfect example of a gay or straight person, there isn’t just one kind of asexual, and the full spectrum of asexual people deserves acknowledgement.
Along with her own story, Decker’s book features quotes from other asexual activists and forum posters. She uses these quotes to show the variation of experiences in the ace community, as well as ways in which those experiences overlap. She specifically includes sections related to autism, aromanticism, disability, and racism, and she also discusses the ways in which asexuality resonates with, or sometimes diverges from, queerness. Furthermore, her book stresses the importance of both LGBTQ and ace individuals working as allies, which means respecting one another’s safe spaces and listening to one another’s needs.
Decker’s book is a worthwhile read for ace and ace-questioning individuals, as it can offer a stronger foothold into their identity without pressuring them to commit to a label. The book is also useful for ace-allies who might want to be supportive but don’t know how. Lastly, it’s an important read for anyone who has doubts about the validity of asexuality. As Decker herself writes, “I want to help other asexual people embrace their orientation without an instilled core of self-doubt. This will only become possible if everyone — asexual people and non-asexual people alike — can be given access to information about asexuality: what it is, what it isn’t, who it affects, and why it doesn’t need to be ‘cured.’”
2. Fourth World (The Iamos Trilogy) by Lyssa Chiavari
Martians, time travel, and government conspiracies are only a fraction of what makes Fourth World such an entertaining read. The book, though marketed as YA, has plenty to keep an older reader’s attention. The first half of the book focuses on deuteragonist Isaak, a teenager who lives in Tierra Nueva, Mars, and whose father has recently gone missing. When Isaak finds a mysterious pile of rocks that resemble one of his father’s coins, he immediately starts researching what they are and how they got there. At the same time, he’s attempting to juggle fears about his future and feelings toward his friend, Tamara. Everything comes to a head when a skeleton is found at the dig site, suggesting that the government is hiding something about Isaak’s dad and Mars’s past.
Part two of the book focuses on Nadin, a character who appeared briefly in the prologue. Nadin is a member of the Hope Renewed Citidome in Iamos, and her parents are geroi, or leaders of the city. Nadin is expected to live up to their titles and become a geroi herself, but she has recently failed her exam, and pressure is high for her to pass. Her community is facing a crisis — the oxygen is thinning, and the planet is dying. Now more than ever, Nadin’s people need her to take on the mantle of leadership, though her parents don’t think she’s ready; complicating matters even further, Nadin can’t wed her betrothed, Celios, until they both pass the test. However, she seems to have doubts about their relationship, as every time he tries to kiss her, she recoils.
The final section of Fourth World switches perspectives between the two main characters, who are now working together to save the planet. Without giving too much away, the duo begins to question their own relationship, as well as their ability to trust their respective leaders. Themes of environmentalism, racism, and classism are all at play in the story, and they serve as a warning of what might happen if modern-day readers don’t take these issues seriously.
However, the book never moralizes, nor does it feel pandering in its message. Instead, the book seems like a genuine argument for respecting others, questioning authority, and working together to help our own planet, as well as each other.
Both Isaak and Nadin are on the asexual spectrum, with Isaak outright stating his demisexuality and Nadin implying she’s sex-repulsed. The characters’ sexualities are certainly part of the story, influencing their relationships, fears, and wants. However, their asexuality isn’t the main focus of the book, but instead, a single facet of who they are. This representation is important and truthful — asexuality is just one component of an asexual individual, and like with any other orientation, a person is more than just their sexuality. Certainly, it’s rewarding to read a book where asexuality is the main focus. Other times, such as this, it’s refreshing to see asexuality as a secondary focus that doesn’t supersede other plotlines.
Fourth World is a fun, exciting read for anyone who loves science fiction. The story’s world-building is impressive, and the plot interweaves elements of bildungsroman and romance. In short, Fourth World was an out of this world read (pun intended), and it has plenty to offer ace and allo readers alike.
3. OF: What Place Meant by Kenning Jean-Paul Garcia
Part autobiography, part poem, and part philosophical essay, OF: What Place Meant is a modern, unique take on the nature of writing, beauty, and connection. Garcia plays with alliteration, rhyming, and form, and xyr work grapples with questions of longing, belonging, and being. Xyr focus on connection is a connective tissue throughout the book, which further explores a variety of existential and epistemological themes.
OF: What Place Meant is simultaneously a single, long poem and a series of smaller prose-esque poems. The book starts with the section, “Here,” which includes fragments of letters, more traditional poems, and semi-journalistic entries. From “Here,” we move to “There,” which continues to play with style and form. However, this section inverts many assertions made in the first part, causing the reader to question the certainty of their senses, feelings, and overall reality.
“What’s real isn’t fake. Of that there is no doubt. Okay, a bit of doubt defies extinction. Eyes can be tricked. Smells mingle and lose distinction, murmurs can be misinterpreted, and how many textures are confused as one material stands in for another at lowered cost to the detriment of good taste?”
Although the title suggests that setting will feature heavily in Garcia’s poems, setting is simply a means through which the author introduces and breaks down these larger concepts. Sure, certain places are given a name or tied to a memory, such as the library and mall; additionally, Garcia focuses on the connection between time and place and how the former alters the latter. However, the focus of each section always comes back to beauty, belonging, or language’s ability to create (or distort) meaning.
“Saddest part about being away from is how many ways that can be taken. From has a pace opposite to that of to. From moves rapid. To lacks an instinct for emergency. Away is of’s evil twin. Away split off happily. Of feels defunct ever since and looks to belong.”
Garcia further explores these themes through several characters (each named with a letter of the alphabet), and by the end, it seems that the narrator is meeting up with one of these past relationships. The exact nature of this relationship is hard to pinpoint, and I was uncertain whether this meetup was happening in the present or the past. But this uncertainty in time and connection seems integral to the book itself, which seems to question the certainty of certainty itself.
Though not overtly stated, themes of asexuality are incorporated in the narrator’s discussions of attraction, love, and longing. Additionally, the author’s focus on loneliness and desire for community is relatable to any newly-realized ace.
“Even when taking the long way home, walking past the door where there is someone to come home to, the world is wide and it gets lonely on a stroll when there’s no sense of connection — a reason for compassion. Connection should be the synonym of commonality. Connection should mean, seeing the self in another. Connection is concern. Care. Unconditional. Unchanging. The need to understand the other while leaving the secrets hidden. It’s not about revealing. It’s not about one confiding in another or about confession. It’s the sense of communing. Community.”
OF: What Place Meant is by no means a quick or easy read. But if you want a book that’s sonorous and challenging, it’s a good way to go. It’s a book I’ll certainly be revisiting, as I’m sure I’ll continue to reflect on the book well into the year.
For 2020, if not the decade, let’s resolve: to be more accepting, more loving, and more informed. And achieving that means asking questions, doing research, and always being willing to listen. These books are a great place to start, and as you can find in the first book, there are many other resources to help as well.
I’m glad to be a member of the ace community, and I’m grateful you’re all here with me. Here’s to all the ace authors and stories of 2019 and all the new representation to come in 2020!
