GLR January-February 2026

through the couple’s lives candidly but with minimal markers to clearly establish when events happened. The objects and subjects of interest to them range from tropical fruit to pho tography, to Lin’s surviving breast cancer and searching for a home in New York, and to queer theorist Eve Sedgwick’s eye glasses and how clothing frequently does not “become us,” rather that we become who our clothes project us to be. Any at tempt at synopsis could make Lin + Lam’s writing appear con fusing; rest assured, the reader gets drawn in by its intimate storytelling. The smoothness of the book’s prose adds to the desire to flow along with them as they tell tales of their lives before and after meeting. The lives of long-term partners often merge, and large and small details of the couple’s years to gether come forward and recede like waves. As Lin writes: “I am I, Lan Thao Lam, and I am Not-I, Lana Lin. Perhaps in some ways we are transitional objects for one another, allow ing ourselves to live in transition, to and from ourselves and each other, in between.” Longlisted for the National Book Award, and a triumph for the small woman-centered Dorothy, a publishing project, The Autobiography of H. Lan Thao Lam is an absorbing work com memorating 25 years of queer love and artistic partnership. As Lin writes: “It may be that a great love is shown through lis tening to another’s story. It may be that a greater love is shown through telling another’s story. A different kind of love arises when merging another’s story with one’s own.” _________________________________________________________________ Reginald Harris, a frequent contributor to this magazine, is a writer and poet based in Brooklyn. Harper. 352 pages, $30. N and forgiveness in the face of abysmal grief, along with the con fusion and fear of war. The book is a present-day novel of com ing-of-age for two Ukrainian boys in love who survive trauma and never give up searching for each other. Russia and Ukraine have participated in intermittent fight ing since 2014, but on February 24, 2022, Russia officially in vaded Ukraine. The war presses on, with both sides incurring significant loss of life. Reading this book feels like stepping into the war close to home, not thousands of miles away. It’s diffi cult to escape its urgency and sorrow as the tragedy drags on. Wachman has crafted a novel that highlights the atrocity by telling it in the present tense through the experience of a young gay boy. The novel opens with two beautiful epigraphs: one by So viet screenwriter and director Alexander Dovzhenko, who was January–February 2026 OTHING CONVEYS the brutality and loss of war more than a child’s perspective. Sam Wachman’s The Sunflower Boys captures the enduring nature of love M ONICA C ARTER Boy Loses Boy THE SUNFLOWER BOYS: A Novel by Sam Wachman

born in what is now known as Chernihiv Oblast, Ukraine; and one by novelist Serhiy Zhadan. The narrator, twelve year-old Artem, loves draw ing, his mother, his grand father, and his younger brother Yuri, and he has a dis orienting affection for his best friend Victor. His father, Tato, lives in the United States and is waiting to get a green card. He’s been away for eight years, and the boys wait anx iously for their father to return home to Chernihiv. Artem

Sam Wachman. Book jacket photo.

knows that Tato works in construction because it pays well— more than he made as a cardiologist in Ukraine. They with stand life without him, but the brothers wonder if he knows them at all. His absence lingers in the first part of the novel, adding a subterranean tension that elucidates the consequences of migration. The families of Artem and Viktor are close, comprising a loving extended family in which Artem considers Viktor’s par ents, Natasha and Vasya, to be his aunt and uncle. Viktor and Artem spend most of their time together, both during and after school. Artem sketches Viktor, or they watch scary movies to gether during sleepovers. As the novel progresses, romantic feelings toward Viktor occupy Artem’s thoughts, and he be comes physically lovesick. Homophobic remarks from their schoolmates reveal the fragility of queer adolescence amid toxic masculinity, and Viktor distances himself from Artem. The hon est rendering of homophobia will feel familiar to those who’ve experienced young queer love. The relationship between Artem and Yuri is equally com pelling and is portrayed with emotional intelligence and nu ance, showing their deep tenderness and affection for each other. Each is uniquely gifted: Artem the artist and Yuri the in tellectual admire and protect each other even at their young age. This situation prefaces the traumatic events that unfold as the story develops, giving those events a greater resonance. Throughout the novel, Artem holds onto his innocence despite the war going on around him. The prose is infused with re gional language that renders Ukrainian cultural life with vi brancy and immediacy. Through mythological, traditional, and folkloric references, Artem’s sense of Ukrainian history resides in his experiences with his family and his personal memories. The beginning of the conflict changes the brothers’ lives for ever. Artem is thrust into homelessness and forced into the role of caretaker. The journey to safety is arduous. The sense of dis placement caused by armed conflict coincides with the disinte gration of family and the loss of innocence. This is a masterful novel that deserves to be read widely, a haunting meditation on loss and communal trauma that offers lessons in resiliency and young love. _________________________________________________________________ Monica Carter, national program director for L GBTQ Writers in Schools, is based in Upstate New York.

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