Davis Shoulders, ed., Queer Communion: religion in Appalachia. Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky Press, 2025. ISBN: 9781985902961.
I found the book to be very moving. Personally it challenged me as I struggled a bit to understand why some choose to stay despite awful treatment. The answer to that can be complicated for the writers. For good or ill, their Christianity may be tied to racism and outright bigotry, but it is also tied to some good close family experiences, friendships, and/or positive spiritual moments. It may be hard to leave the religion of your kin, bigoted as they may be, when your granny happens to also be the one who helped raise you or just plain loved you despite the fact she may hate queers otherwise. I can see where the writers experience some tough choices and struggles with their consciences all while trying, often, to accept their queerness and decide whether to come out or not, to leave or stay home, so on. At times you feel the tension as you read the book.
This is the kind of book I say more people should read, but sadly they won't. It is also a book that clings to some hope.
I recommend the book for all libraries, especially libraries in the Appalachian region. Academic libraries need to have this, especially for academic programs in religion, women and gender studies, LGBTQ+ studies, and social justice. It may be an academic press book, but its accessibility makes it a good selection for public libraries too.
I am glad I read it even if there are parts I disagree on or struggled with them, mainly about those who may remain to stay inside a religious tradition that hates them. Then again, I am a heathen, and it is their choice to make.
Overall I'd consider this an essential book. Definitely a good one to include in various LGBTQ+ library displays.
5 out of 5 stars.
Additional reading notes:
On loving people who hate them:
"It occurred to me, gay Appalachian man that I am, that effectively all queer Appalachians and Southerners have loved people who hated them-- or at least parts of them, parts that can't be divided out. If we hadn't loved people who hated parts of us-- perhaps even most-- of us would never have learned to feel love at all" (x).
On queerness as spiritual:
"In a world of fascist ideologies, I have learned that queerness is spiritual in its own right. That simply coming into being and surviving in this world is an act of spiritually defiant, radical soul resilience" (21).
On some Christians:
"There are people who want to run us off the road, burn us, shoot us. There are others who don't want to hurt us but wish they could close their eyes and in a flash we'd cease to exist. Some of those people call themselves Christians" (86).
So very often it goes between Christians willing to get their hands dirty to hurt queers and those unwilling to act on their bigotry, unwilling to get their hands dirty, but very willing to support policies and provide silent tacit support to the active bigots.
This book qualifies for the following 2026 Reading Challenge:
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