Books
Out author Nicole Dennis-Benn unveils knotty new novel ‘Patsy’
Immigration, mothering and queer identity themes in sophomore tome


Nicole Dennis-Benn
Young African Professionals D.C.
Politics and Prose Union Market
1270 5th St., N.E.
‘Patsy’ book release event
$26.95
politics-prose.com
nicoledennisbenn.com
Author Nicole Dennis-Benn got the kind of media attention and interest with her 2016 novel “Here Comes the Sun,” most first-time authors can only dream of — she won a Lambda Literary Award, was a finalist for several other literary prizes, got reviewed in the New York Times (which named it one of its “notable books of the year”) and other high-profile outlets.
Her sophomore effort “Patsy” was released Tuesday and is already generating buzz with more media love from the Times, Oprah’s magazine, NPR and more. “Patsy” is the story of the title character, an undocumented Jamaican queer immigrant in New York and the daughter she left behind, Tru. Going back and forth between Brooklyn and Jamaica, Dennis-Benn, herself Jamaican and a lesbian, covers her characters’ lives over a decade.
The 37-year-old writer will be at Politics & Prose (Union Market) in Washington on Saturday, June 8 at 6 p.m. Details at politics-prose.com. She spoke to the Blade by phone last week. Her comments have been slightly edited for length.
WASHINGTON BLADE: Your first book got the kind of industry attention most authors only dream of. How did you manage that?
NICOLE DENNIS-BENN: When I started my debut novel, I had no idea all the work that went into getting a book out there to readers. I used to think it just appears on the bookshelf. I wasn’t one of those readers in college and grad school looking at the New York Times or the Washington Post for the next book I wanted to read. So I was really shocked as a first-time writer. My agent, she worked really hard at putting my book in the eyes of publishers and also really doubled down when it came out. She said, “This is a debut novel, we have to have a big splash,” so she and her team worked extra hard and I was really happy that they loved it enough to want to really invest in it. But there’s really a machine behind all that publicity.
BLADE: Did you have to fight to get “Patsy” published or was it much easier after the first book was successful?
DENNIS-BENN: It was easy after that, for sure. I had some anxiety writing as a woman of color and my story is about a Jamaican woman wth a queer identity as well as an immigrant … but it’s a relief to know there’s a place for my books. I can’t say the same for many other writers who are women of color or LGBT writers, but at the same time I’m happy that they’re being published somewhere.
BLADE: How has your publisher Liveright been to work with? Any wrangling over final edit?
DENNIS-BENN: It was a good relationship and that’s definitely something I was relieved about. I didn’t have to fight them on anything. I used patois, a Jamaican dialect, in the dialogue and I was really happy that the editor and also the copy editors were able to work with me on maintaining that. I think it was really a good match.
BLADE: Is there some autobiography woven into the fiction?
DENNIS-BENN: I would say it’s like 80 percent fiction and 20 percent autobiographical. Patsy comes to America and wants more for herself but then realizes there are issues here just like anywhere else. Unlike myself, Patsy is not educated or documented, so she immediately meets that wall, no pun intended. She actually gets trapped and she’s not able to move upward financially. She has no social security at all, so of course, taking Patsy on that journey, took a lot more imagination and also talking to folks, like my father for example, who came here undocumented and has worked his way through the system before marrying an American citizen and getting his papers.
BLADE: What is your working process like? How does one begin to tackle a work of this scope?
DENNIS-BENN: I started really with writing scenes. Patsy’s voice came to me first and I wrote more following that voice. I would think about it on my morning ride to Staten Island where I was teaching at the College of Staten Island and it was like I was somehow dictating in the sense that I was imagining this woman riding the subway and she’s on her early morning trip to her first nanny job and really thinking about who that woman is, why did she come to this country, what did she leave behind. … That’s when I started outlining and this is actually the first novel where somehow everything I wrote was against that outline.
BLADE: How did you know instinctively that was right?
DENNIS-BENN: I didn’t know it was right at all. I slept on it awhile. A lot of it came from being raised as a woman in Jamaica, it’s a society that tells you we ought to all want motherhood, that that’s the ultimate satisfaction. Well, so what about this woman who doesn’t really want that but has no choice? It took a lot of self reflection.
BLADE: How long did it take? I assume you balanced it with your teaching duties?
DENNIS-BENN: Right, exactly. Those rides on the ferry were in 2012 so really like seven years.
BLADE: How long did “Here Comes the Sun” take to write?
DENNIS-BENN: It was faster. I started it in 2010 and got my agent in 2014, so more like four years. It was quicker than “Patsy.”
BLADE: How disciplined did you have to be? Were there days your wife wanted to go to the mall or everybody else was on holiday but you forced yourself to write?
DENNIS-BENN: I did it when the mood struck. I was teaching as an adjunct so it was only like two days a week. So on the other days, I stayed home and worked on my books. My wife would be getting rady for work and she leaves around 9 a.m. so that’s when my writing day started and I’d write til about 4. But I didn’t adhere to that every single day, every week. Sometimes ideas would come or not come. Some days the characters would just not speak, so I’d take a little time to do normal things. I feel like living life a little bit, I absorb a lot. So I take myself to the museum, I meet up with friends and somehow gather a lot of energy by stepping away from the work.
BLADE: How long have you been teaching at Princeton?
DENNIS-BENN: A year. I started fall, 2018.
BLADE: What do you teach?
DENNIS-BENN: Creative writing, fiction.
BLADE: Is Joyce Carol Oates still there?
DENNIS-BENN: YEs, but I’ve not met her. I only teach there one day a week. I want to, but I haven’t had the chance.
BLADE: Are you familiar with her work?
DENNIS-BENN: Oh yes, definitely. There are so many people at Princeton working whose work I admire like Jhumpa Lahiri, she’s also there, Tracy K. Smith and Yiyun Li. I had to work on myself not to be star struck in the department.
BLADE: How many copies did you sell of “Here Comes the Sun”?
DENNIS-BENN: Um, I’m not sure. I know it did well. I’m actually only going by what my publishers have been telling me or my agent.
BLADE: But what’s considered successful for a debut hardcover novel?
DENNIS-BENN: I have no idea.
BLADE: Aren’t you curious?
DENNIS-BENN: I’m curious, yeah, but I don’t know. That’s a good question. I think for me … as a creative person, success is actually touching readers, so when I get a note through social media or somebody tells me they saw themselves on the page, that really is success for me.
BLADE: To what degree does being a lesbian inform your work any more or less, say, than being from Jamaica, being an immigrant or other aspects that inform your work?
DENNIS-BENN: I would say the same. I feel like an outsider in many ways — my sexuality, as a black woman, as a woman, as an immigrant, a working-class Jamaican, I felt like an outsider growing up all those things. But it gives you a vision where you can look down into that world and sketch it. Having been an outsider in Jamaica and America gives me the ability to write from those perspectives.
BLADE: How long have you been in the U.S.?
DENNIS-BENN: Twenty years now, since ’99. I came here for college when I was 17.
BLADE: What was your path to citizenship like?
DENNIS-BENN: My father came here undocumented, he married an American citizen and by doing that, he was able to get his naturalization. Then he was able to file for me and my siblings and we were able to come here on a green card. … I see myself as a lucky one, going to Cornell then on to graduate school. That’s a luxury for many people. Many people like my father came here driving taxis to support themselves and send money back home.
BLADE: Have you encountered any racism or homophobia from publishing industry gatekeepers?
DENNIS-BENN: Again, that’s a question I would need to ask my agent. She was more on the forefront of all of this. If there was, she probably absorbed it and didn’t relate it to me word for word. I had people say, “Oh, we’re unable to represent this book,” but no real solid reason. …. I have sometimes felt like my novels are puzzle pieces that don’t fit but that’s how I learned to embrace them.
BLADE: Was it difficult to find an agent?
DENNIS-BENN: I got a lot of rejection letters in grad school. My first agent was not on board with the dialect and we parted ways. I just knew there was no way I could have to Jamaicans speaking to each other in standard English, it just didn’t sound authentic. I knew if it was published like that, I wouldn’t be happy with the product. So I went back to the drawing board and I was really crushed but I took a year to revise my first book and started sending query letters. Three agents responded and one happened to be my current agent. She said she respected me as a writer and was behind what I was doing in my work. That was a huge relief to hear that.
BLADE: What are your dreams as an author? Do you plan to keep releasing novels?
DENNIS-BENN: Yes, definitely. You can get away with so much more with fiction. I get stressed out fact checking an essay for the New York Times, so I can’t imagine a 300-page memoir. I see myself continuing with fiction.
BLADE: Your piece about pregnancy in the Times was very candid. Were you wary of sharing so many personal details?
DENNIS-BENN: I never had any desire to be pregnant and it was something I always grappled with. Why do I feel this way? It was a similar feeling I had as a teenager coming out as a lesbian. Why do I feel this way? It’s not normal. But it turns out it’s absolutely normal and something a lot of women feel. I thought, “Wow, this is something in society we do not talk about as women.” We don’t have this maternal yearning, we must be bad people. That’s how “Patsy” was born.
BLADE: It seems you’re trying to do more than merely entertain your readers. What are your goals as a novelist?
DENNIS-BENN: I write for myself first. I write the kind of books I want to read. I never saw anybody, except Edwidge Danticat, write about immigrants and that desire to migrate somewhere for financial reasons. I was thinking about Patsy, this voluptuous nanny on the Upper West Side pushing babies around Central Park. Who is she? Mother, immigrant, religious — all those things that even myself as an author, I would have been pre-judging her but when you open a book or dissect Patsy, you see a completely different story. Here’s a woman who if she could afford it, would be at MIT studying programming. These are the things I wanted to put on the page.
Books
Two new books on dining out LGBTQ-style
Visit nightclubs, hamburger joints, and a bathhouse that feeds customers

‘What is Queer Food? How We Served a Revolution’
By John Birdsall
c.2025, W.W. Norton
$29.99/304 pages
‘Dining Out: First Dates, Defiant Nights, and Last Call Disco Fries at America’s Gay Restaurants’
By Erik Piepenburg
c.2025, Grand Central
$30/352 pages
You thought a long time about who sits where.
Compatibility is key for a good dinner party, so place cards were the first consideration; you have at least one left-hander on your guest list, and you figured his comfort into your seating chart. You want the conversation to flow, which is music to your ears. And you did a good job but, as you’ll see with these two great books on dining LGBTQ-style, it’s sometimes not who sits where, but whose recipes were used.
When you first pick up “What is Queer Food?” by John Birdsall, you might miss the subtitle: “How We Served a Revolution.” It’s that second part that’s important.

Starting with a basic gay and lesbian history of America, Birdsall shows how influential and (in)famous 20th century queer folk set aside the cruelty and discrimination they received, in order to live their lives. They couldn’t speak about those things, he says, but they “sat down together” and they ate.
That suggested “a queer common purpose,” says Birdsall. “This is how who we are, dahling, This is how we feed our own. This is how we stay alive.”
Readers who love to cook, bake or entertain, collect cookbooks, or use a fork will want this book. Its stories are nicely served, they’re addicting, and they may send you in search of cookbooks you didn’t know existed.
Sometimes, though, you don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen, you want someone else to bring the grub. “Dining Out” by Erik Piepenburg is an often-nostalgic, lively look at LGBTQ-friendly places to grab a meal – both now and in the past.

In his introduction, Piepenburg admits that he’s a journalist, “not a historian or an academic,” which colors this book, but not negatively. Indeed, his journeys to “gay restaurants” – even his generous and wide-ranging definitions of the term – happily influence how he presents his narrative about eateries and other establishments that have fed protesters, nourished budding romances, and offered audacious inclusion.
Here, there are modern tales of drag lunches and lesbian-friendly automats that offered “cheap food” nearly a century ago. You’ll visit nightclubs, hamburger joints, and a bathhouse that feeds customers on holidays. Stepping back, you’ll read about AIDS activism at gay-friendly establishments, and mostly gay neighborhood watering holes. Go underground at a basement bar; keep tripping and meet proprietors, managers, customers and performers. Then take a peek into the future, as Piepenburg sees it.
The locales profiled in “Dining Out” may surprise you because of where they can be found; some of the hot-spots practically beg for a road trip.
After reading this book, you’ll feel welcome at any of them.
If these books don’t shed enough light on queer food, then head to your favorite bookstore or library and ask for help finding more. The booksellers and librarians there will put cookbooks and history books directly in your hands, and they’ll help you find more on the history and culture of the food you eat. Grab them and you’ll agree, they’re pretty tasty reads.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

You’re going to be on your feet a lot this month.
Marching in parades, dancing in the streets, standing up for people in your community. But you’re also likely to have some time to rest and reflect – and with these great new books, to read.
First, dip into a biography with “Marsha: The Joy and Defiance of Marsha P. Johnson” by Tourmaline (Tiny Rep Books, $30), a nice look at an icon who, rumor has it, threw the brick that started a revolution. It’s a lively tale about Marsha P. Johnson, her life, her activism before Stonewall and afterward. Reading this interesting and highly researched history is a great way to spend some time during Pride month.
For the reader who can’t live without music, try “The Dad Rock That Made Me a Woman” by Niko Stratis (University of Texas Press, $27.95), the story of being trans, searching for your place in the world, and finding it in a certain comfortable genre of music. Also look for “The Lonely Veteran’s Guide to Companionship” by Bronson Lemer (University of Wisconsin Press, $19.95), a collection of essays that make up a memoir of this and that, of being queer, basic training, teaching overseas, influential books, and life.
If you still have room for one more memoir, try “Walk Like a Girl” by Prabal Gurung (Viking, $32.00). It’s the story of one queer boy’s childhood in India and Nepal, and the intolerance he experienced as a child, which caused him to dream of New York and the life he imagined there. As you can imagine, dreams and reality collided but nonetheless, Gurung stayed, persevered, and eventually became an award-winning fashion designer, highly sought by fashion icons and lovers of haute couture. This is an inspiring tale that you shouldn’t miss.
No Pride celebration is complete without a history book or two.
In “Trans History: From Ancient Times to the Present Day” by Alex L. Combs & Andrew Eakett ($24.99, Candlewick Press), you’ll see that being trans is something that’s as old as humanity. One nice part about this book: it’s in graphic novel form, so it’s lighter to read but still informative. Lastly, try “So Many Stars: An Oral History of Trans, Nonbinary, Genderqueer, and Two-Spirit People of Color” by Caro De Robertis (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill. $32.00) a collection of thoughts, observations, and truths from over a dozen people who share their stories. As an “oral history,” you’ll be glad to know that each page is full of mini-segments you can dip into anywhere, read from cover to cover, double-back and read again. It’s that kind of book.
And if these six books aren’t enough, if they don’t quite fit what you crave now, be sure to ask your favorite bookseller or librarian for help. There are literally tens of thousands of books that are perfect for Pride month and beyond. They’ll be able to determine what you’re looking for, and they’ll put it directly in your hands. So stand up. March. And then sit and read.
a&e features
James Baldwin bio shows how much of his life is revealed in his work
‘A Love Story’ is first major book on acclaimed author’s life in 30 years

‘Baldwin: A Love Story’
By Nicholas Boggs
c.2025, FSG
$35/704 pages
“Baldwin: A Love Story” is a sympathetic biography, the first major one in 30 years, of acclaimed Black gay writer James Baldwin. Drawing on Baldwin’s fiction, essays, and letters, Nicolas Boggs, a white writer who rediscovered and co-edited a new edition of a long-lost Baldwin book, explores Baldwin’s life and work through focusing on his lovers, mentors, and inspirations.
The book begins with a quick look at Baldwin’s childhood in Harlem, and his difficult relationship with his religious, angry stepfather. Baldwin’s experience with Orilla Miller, a white teacher who encouraged the boy’s writing and took him to plays and movies, even against his father’s wishes, helped shape his life and tempered his feelings toward white people. When Baldwin later joined a church and became a child preacher, though, he felt conflicted between academic success and religious demands, even denouncing Miller at one point. In a fascinating late essay, Baldwin also described his teenage sexual relationship with a mobster, who showed him off in public.
Baldwin’s romantic life was complicated, as he preferred men who were not outwardly gay. Indeed, many would marry women and have children while also involved with Baldwin. Still, they would often remain friends and enabled Baldwin’s work. Lucien Happersberger, who met Baldwin while both were living in Paris, sent him to a Swiss village, where he wrote his first novel, “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” as well as an essay, “Stranger in the Village,” about the oddness of being the first Black person many villagers had ever seen. Baldwin met Turkish actor Engin Cezzar in New York at the Actors’ Studio; Baldwin later spent time in Istanbul with Cezzar and his wife, finishing “Another Country” and directing a controversial play about Turkish prisoners that depicted sexuality and gender.
Baldwin collaborated with French artist Yoran Cazac on a children’s book, which later vanished. Boggs writes of his excitement about coming across this book while a student at Yale and how he later interviewed Cazac and his wife while also republishing the book. Baldwin also had many tumultuous sexual relationships with young men whom he tried to mentor and shape, most of which led to drama and despair.
The book carefully examines Baldwin’s development as a writer. “Go Tell It on the Mountain” draws heavily on his early life, giving subtle signs of the main character John’s sexuality, while “Giovanni’s Room” bravely and openly shows a homosexual relationship, highly controversial at the time. “If Beale Street Could Talk” features a woman as its main character and narrator, the first time Baldwin wrote fully through a woman’s perspective. His essays feel deeply personal, even if they do not reveal everything; Lucian is the unnamed visiting friend in one who the police briefly detained along with Baldwin. He found New York too distracting to write, spending his time there with friends and family or on business. He was close friends with modernist painter Beauford Delaney, also gay, who helped Baldwin see that a Black man could thrive as an artist. Delaney would later move to France, staying near Baldwin’s home.
An epilogue has Boggs writing about encountering Baldwin’s work as one of the few white students in a majority-Black school. It helpfully reminds us that Baldwin connects to all who feel different, no matter their race, sexuality, gender, or class. A well-written, easy-flowing biography, with many excerpts from Baldwin’s writing, it shows how much of his life is revealed in his work. Let’s hope it encourages reading the work, either again or for the first time.
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