There are no stars at all for some of us
Hey! Internet! I've just been talking about how much it sucks when a novel kills off its queer characters. Especially when there's, like, one of them and they're the one who doesn't make it. Can someone point me toward a list of books where that doesn't happen? Spoilers, whatever.

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I noticed on re-read a few years ago that one of the villains of Mary Stewart's The Moon-Spinners (1962) is strongly coded as gay and it doesn't have anything to do with his being a jewel thief. I found I liked that very much. His name is Tony Gamble, which he makes a disarming joke of—Gamble by name, gamble by nature; he has faintly camp manners and moves as economically as a dancer, but instead he's a jack-of-all-trades at a new hotel in a small village on Crete. He's graceful and humorous and he's the one the author allows to get away, facetiously promising to send the heroine a postcard from the Kara Bugaz. Her cousin thinks he never will, but I like to think he sent one from somewhere.
And Mary Stewart just died, at a very respectable age, but I am still going to mourn her.
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Awesome. I haven't read anything by Graham, despite knowing that she's written at least one classical novel. Reincarnational melange?
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What a fascinating conceit. I will have to check these out.