“Make a fence, said the rabbis, around the Torah,” reads the first line of Jessica Jacobs' unalone. By the end of this opening poem, however, Jacobs has defined her engagement with religious texts as an act of devotion to living fully in the world’s complexity: “Here, love, is fruit with the sun still inside it. Let me // thumb the juice from your chin. Let us honor what we love / by taking it in.” Structured around the twelve parshiyot (portions) of Genesis, the trajectory of unalone parallels immersion in Jewish teachings with the contemporary world. Whether conversing with the sacred texts she reads or writing from her subjects' perspectives, Jacobs navigates an abundance of experiences: growing up queer, embracing one's sexuality, reversing roles as the adult child of aging parents, wrestling with religious history and the imposed roles of womanhood, exploring how the past foreshadows our current climate crisis, and revisiting the blush of new love while cataloging the profound, though more familiar, joys of a long relationship. 


Deeply personal and yet universal in its truths, unalone draws on the Book of Genesis as a living document whose stories, wisdom, and ethical knots can engage us more fully with our own lives — whatever your religious tradition or spiritual beliefs. In this stunning and ambitious book, Jacobs reminds us that all poetry serves as a kind of prayer – a recognition of beauty, a spoken bid for connection, a yearning toward an understanding that might better guide us through our days. When you “dive / from the twin heights of your eyes,” “that tiny pool below” isn’t God. “Well, not exactly,” Jacobs comforts us. “It’s you. One breath deeper than you’ve / ever been, one breath closer to the heeded, heedful world.” 

More than 120 years after Oscar Wilde submitted The Picture of Dorian Gray for publication in Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, the uncensored version of his novel appears here for the first time in a paperback edition. This volume restores all of the material removed by the novel’s first editor.

Upon receipt of the typescript, Wilde’s editor panicked at what he saw. Contained within its pages was material he feared readers would find “offensive”—especially instances of graphic homosexual content. He proceeded to go through the typescript with his pencil, cleaning it up until he made it “acceptable to the most fastidious taste.” Wilde did not see these changes until his novel appeared in print. Wilde’s editor’s concern was well placed. Even in its redacted form, the novel caused public outcry. The British press condemned it as “vulgar,” “unclean,” “poisonous,” “discreditable,” and “a sham.” When Wilde later enlarged the novel for publication in book form, he responded to his critics by further toning down its “immoral” elements.

Wilde famously said that The Picture of Dorian Gray “contains much of me”: Basil Hallward is “what I think I am,” Lord Henry “what the world thinks me,” and “Dorian what I would like to be—in other ages, perhaps.” Wilde’s comment suggests a backward glance to a Greek or Dorian Age, but also a forward-looking view to a more permissive time than his own repressive Victorian era. By implication, Wilde would have preferred we read today the uncensored version of his novel.

A gay novel in which the rural landscapes of Bengal set the stage for a story that transcends the boundaries of tradition and love.

Mallar, a shy and introspective sixteen-year-old, finds himself drawn to Srijan, his classmate’s enigmatic elder cousin, during a fateful summer in a small-town family home. At first, Mallar’s fantasies take shape in secret sketches of Srijan. But soon, their connection becomes a complex play of mutual desire and dominance, which leads to the forging of a unique pact—a promise never to fall in love with each other.

As their lives take them from the serene landscapes of Bengal to the vibrant beaches of Chennai, the mysterious alleys of Paris, and the buzzing streets of Bangalore, the two men’s unconventional companionship deepens. With each meeting comes a new revelation, a fresh twist to their agreement, and a surprising facet of their identities. Mallar, reviving his childhood passion, embarks on a journey to establish himself as an artist. Collaborating on an art project, Mallar transforms Srijan’s body into a living canvas. But what begins as a creative endeavor quickly becomes a voyage into uncharted depths, as the canvas asks questions, challenges their resolve, and unravels hidden truths, culminating in new beginnings.

Delving into the intricate layers of two men’s lives, their fears, insecurities, hopes, and the mosaic of experiences that shape them, this novel is a testament to the complexities of human connection. One of the first openly gay novels written in Bengali, and the first to be translated into English, Sudipto Pal’s Unlove Story is a groundbreaking addition to the canon of queer literature from around the world.