'
dykette' is a lightning bolt in the queer lit scene, blending the sharp social commentary of 'Detransition, Baby' with the intimacy of '
Fun Home'. What hooked me was how it dissects performative identity—how queer women code-switch between activist circles, dating apps, and corporate jobs. The protagonist’s obsession with being the 'perfect lesbian' mirrors the pressure cooker of online visibility, where every action gets dissected in group chats.
Unlike 'The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo', which glamorizes queer love across decades, 'Dykette' zooms in on the mundane horrors of present-day dating: ghosting, polyamory negotiations gone wrong, and the existential terror of being 'bad at queerness.' The writing style is frantic yet precise, like a voice memo from your most dramatic friend. Scenes where characters debate whether liking Lana Del Rey is problematic feel ripped from real life.
What sets it apart is its refusal to moralize. 'Rubyfruit Jungle' champions rebellion, but 'Dykette' lets its characters be petty, vain, and contradictory—like real people. The sex scenes are awkward and hot in equal measure, a far cry from the polished romance of 'Written on the Body'. If you’re tired of queer stories that feel like PSAs, this novel’s messy humanity will thrill you.