What do you think?
Rate this book
Deep House: The Gayest Love Story Ever Told
A Book of the Year for The New Yorker and Electric Lit and a Time Out 10 Best Books of 2025
It’s 1996, and Jeremy, a young American, has met the British boy of his dreams — just as, amid a media frenzy, US Congress prepares the Defense of Marriage Act, denying same-sex couples rights including immigration. The pair snatch time in forests and deserts, London fashion shows, and East Village hotel rooms; eventually, finding no other way to stay together, they shack up illicitly among unlikely allies in San Francisco.
What emerges is an unexpected romantic comedy haunted by centuries of gay ghosts. Deep House moves through the couple’s various domiciles while unlocking doors to a lineage of outsiders who came before hapless criminals, sexpot bartenders, friars, pirates, government workers who subvert the system and activists who go all the way to the Supreme Court to fight for their freedoms. Combining cultural history with radically intimate memoir, Deep House is at once a romp through the queer archives and the innermost tale of two boyfriends who made a home in the shadows of a turbulent civil rights battle.
It’s 1996, and Jeremy, a young American, has met the British boy of his dreams — just as, amid a media frenzy, US Congress prepares the Defense of Marriage Act, denying same-sex couples rights including immigration. The pair snatch time in forests and deserts, London fashion shows, and East Village hotel rooms; eventually, finding no other way to stay together, they shack up illicitly among unlikely allies in San Francisco.
What emerges is an unexpected romantic comedy haunted by centuries of gay ghosts. Deep House moves through the couple’s various domiciles while unlocking doors to a lineage of outsiders who came before hapless criminals, sexpot bartenders, friars, pirates, government workers who subvert the system and activists who go all the way to the Supreme Court to fight for their freedoms. Combining cultural history with radically intimate memoir, Deep House is at once a romp through the queer archives and the innermost tale of two boyfriends who made a home in the shadows of a turbulent civil rights battle.
397 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 3, 2025
240 people are currently reading
8747 people want to read
About the author
Jeremy Atherton Lin
4 books294 followersHello — I'm the author of Deep House and Gay Bar. My work appears in the anthologies Sluts, A Great Gay Book and Little Joe. My essays have been published in places such as The Paris Review, The Yale Review and The Times Literary Supplement. You can find links to these on my website, along with profiles of artists including Wolfgang Tillmans (for Frieze) and Sam Smith (for GQ) as well as fiction reviews for The Guardian and The Washington Post. You can also listen to my playlists + mixes. Please enjoy! Thanks very much for reading and sharing your thoughts. Good wishes –jAL
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 174 reviews
Want to read
January 27, 2025i'll be the judge of that.
November 19, 2025
More than a history of gay marriage in the US and the UK, this book personalizes the long journey toward marriage equality through the stories of people who fought for it or suffered from past injustices. At the center, the author presents his own relationship and shows how society had the power to shape its course, just as it did for so many other gay relationships. A must-read for queer readers.
August 14, 2025
American author Jeremy Atherton Lin met his British artist husband (who remains unnamed in the text) 29 years ago, and this memoir about the legal challenges gay couples of different nationalities are facing when they want to build a life together is infused with research about historical court cases, thus illustrating the sinister effects of inhumane (and pointless) laws against ... well: being queer, because you can totally prohibit loving another person! *siiigh* Lin and his partner met in London, and at some point, the partner visited Lin in California, overstayed his visa and thus became an illegal immigrant. This of course put him in a vulnerable position, as he had to live in constant fear of being deported, for instance should he need medical attention or cross state lines. And have I mentioned the sodomy laws that still existed back then?
As the recent re-election of one orange Voldemort shows, circumstances as these still aren't striking some voters as a human rights violations, although the people who are discriminated against are striving to fulfill a very traditional, if not conservative wish: To make a home. Lin dives into legal decisions and reveals the destiny of the people behind court cases that were all about queer people wanting to just exist in peace or to be with a person they loved, and ending up having to justify themselves before a judge. He also compares the thinking behind it with what happened to his parents, an American-Taiwanese biracial couple.
Finally, in 2007, Lin and his partner moved to the UK where they could obtain a civil partnership status, but the text proves in its entirety that the state cannot forbid human empathy, love, and solidarity. As a book about queer domesticity, "Deep House" is closely connected to Gay Bar: Why We Went Out, Lin's book about gay community in public places, adding the angle of the fight for private spaces. The amalgamtion of personal anecdotes and historical research works well, and the idea to address the partner directly, to turn the book into some sort of reverance for him and the love recounted, gives many passages a striking emotional tone.
Slightly too long, but highly informative, well-researched and illuminating.
As the recent re-election of one orange Voldemort shows, circumstances as these still aren't striking some voters as a human rights violations, although the people who are discriminated against are striving to fulfill a very traditional, if not conservative wish: To make a home. Lin dives into legal decisions and reveals the destiny of the people behind court cases that were all about queer people wanting to just exist in peace or to be with a person they loved, and ending up having to justify themselves before a judge. He also compares the thinking behind it with what happened to his parents, an American-Taiwanese biracial couple.
Finally, in 2007, Lin and his partner moved to the UK where they could obtain a civil partnership status, but the text proves in its entirety that the state cannot forbid human empathy, love, and solidarity. As a book about queer domesticity, "Deep House" is closely connected to Gay Bar: Why We Went Out, Lin's book about gay community in public places, adding the angle of the fight for private spaces. The amalgamtion of personal anecdotes and historical research works well, and the idea to address the partner directly, to turn the book into some sort of reverance for him and the love recounted, gives many passages a striking emotional tone.
Slightly too long, but highly informative, well-researched and illuminating.
July 11, 2025
A sharp meditation on queer relationships, marriage, and migration politics.
August 26, 2025
deep house is a blend of memoir, a history of the fight for marriage equality in america, and the intertwined complexity of immigration and cross border relationships. overall i found this to be an incredible book that highlights how immigration and marriage laws kept queer people apart, but also how brave people in love (the author and his partner included) defied these systems to build homes and lives together anyway. even more relevant of a read now that the supreme court is revisiting oberfell vs hodges and the civil rights of queer folks could very well be ripped away.
the memoir parts of the book were seamlessly integrated with the historical prose and this way of storytelling really highlighted how individual lives are at the mercy of flawed laws, policies, and the discriminatory systems of countries and how these things can affect the trajectory of a life. it was written like a love letter to his partner and it was a deeply impactful work.
the memoir parts of the book were seamlessly integrated with the historical prose and this way of storytelling really highlighted how individual lives are at the mercy of flawed laws, policies, and the discriminatory systems of countries and how these things can affect the trajectory of a life. it was written like a love letter to his partner and it was a deeply impactful work.
February 2, 2025
Jeremy Atherton Lin's "Deep House" combines a memoir of tender love with a broader narrative on queer love before gay marriage legalization. Starting in 1996 when Jeremy meets "Famous," a Brit, the story blends undocumented domestic life with courthouse battles, media spin, and political maneuvers around a key civil rights issue.
This is my first book from Lin and while I enjoyed the memoir aspects mixed with history, I would have loved to spend more time with Lin’s love story - it was exciting. That’s not to say Lin hasn’t done an incredible job with the history of love, I wanted to know more about *his* love.
This memoir arrives at a critical juncture in America's history, where rights and freedoms are on the cusp of being eroded by an administration intent on erasing significant aspects of history. This book is not just important for the LGBT community but for everyone who values the preservation of our collective past. Understanding our history is crucial to preparing for and fighting for our future. Lin does a phenomenal job of painting this tapestry, reminding us of the importance of preserving our history, even when some would rather see it obliterated. Books like this one will be vital in whatever comes next. Thanks to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for the ARC.
This is my first book from Lin and while I enjoyed the memoir aspects mixed with history, I would have loved to spend more time with Lin’s love story - it was exciting. That’s not to say Lin hasn’t done an incredible job with the history of love, I wanted to know more about *his* love.
This memoir arrives at a critical juncture in America's history, where rights and freedoms are on the cusp of being eroded by an administration intent on erasing significant aspects of history. This book is not just important for the LGBT community but for everyone who values the preservation of our collective past. Understanding our history is crucial to preparing for and fighting for our future. Lin does a phenomenal job of painting this tapestry, reminding us of the importance of preserving our history, even when some would rather see it obliterated. Books like this one will be vital in whatever comes next. Thanks to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for the ARC.
September 28, 2025
Beautiful blend of genres and forms. To borrow the author’s terminology, this book questions borders and presents, in its style, a strong case for a better reconfiguring of how those boundaries may be imagined in the past, present, and future.
September 8, 2025
Deep House: The Gayest Love Story Ever Told is a memoir like no other. It explores the love story of Lin and his (unnamed) partner (now decades together), interwoven with meticulous research, with the Defense of Marriage Act serving as backdrop in their relationship. This memoir is politics-heavy, albeit accessible, and sexy. Very sexy.
Jeremy was twenty-one and living in San Francisco when he met the boy of his dreams on a trip to London in 1996, while exploring the dark corners (rooms) of Europe. The 1980s sexual liberation was at its height, and growing up right after the AIDS crisis meant homosexuals were not seen as role models of anything respectable. In England, gay men were constantly targeted under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, focusing on parks and toilets. The boy Jeremy met, a 20-year-old Brit from Bath, would have been underage if the government had not changed the minimum age of consent from 21 to 18 for men (while it remained 16 for girls until the 1980s). Sex between two men had been partially decriminalised only since 1967 — not long before. When they met, marriage was not a possibility between two men.
Maddeningly in love, they made plans, and the Brit travelled to the USA for the first time. The novel explores Jeremy's and his partner's love story, alternating with meticulous research on the Marriage Act 2003 and its consequences. President Bill Clinton was in power, and the scandalous Monica Lewinsky affair was the perfect glove slap on the poker face of heterosexual prudes. One would think of England and the USA as socially developed countries; however, only recently have gay men been allowed to get married and retain their spouses’ rights, and I wonder how different things might have been if Clinton had not been cornered by the scandal.
When they met, one could not immigrate without a marriage certificate. Interracial marriage was prohibited in the USA not long ago. When Lin's partner moved to the USA at that time, he became undocumented. The fear of persecution and extradition was ever-present. Simple activities such as working or going to the hospital took on outsized proportions. Lin brilliantly walks through all the political minutiae and key historical events that ultimately culminate in a superb hybrid of memoir and non-fiction, essential reading for understanding gay rights in the USA and UK. My only qualm with this novel is the constant switch between memoir and political analysis. I reckon a short memoir, with a companion volume, could work better, as the reader wouldn't have to readjust their reading mindset every chapter.
Deep House is a grounded queer memoir woven with meticulous research on the many obstacles politics can impose on queer life. It is an important book to anyone wanting more insights into the politics of marital immigration in the USA and UK throughout our recent modern history.
I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher Penguin Press UK – Allen Lane, Particular, Pelican, Penguin Classics via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Jeremy was twenty-one and living in San Francisco when he met the boy of his dreams on a trip to London in 1996, while exploring the dark corners (rooms) of Europe. The 1980s sexual liberation was at its height, and growing up right after the AIDS crisis meant homosexuals were not seen as role models of anything respectable. In England, gay men were constantly targeted under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, focusing on parks and toilets. The boy Jeremy met, a 20-year-old Brit from Bath, would have been underage if the government had not changed the minimum age of consent from 21 to 18 for men (while it remained 16 for girls until the 1980s). Sex between two men had been partially decriminalised only since 1967 — not long before. When they met, marriage was not a possibility between two men.
Maddeningly in love, they made plans, and the Brit travelled to the USA for the first time. The novel explores Jeremy's and his partner's love story, alternating with meticulous research on the Marriage Act 2003 and its consequences. President Bill Clinton was in power, and the scandalous Monica Lewinsky affair was the perfect glove slap on the poker face of heterosexual prudes. One would think of England and the USA as socially developed countries; however, only recently have gay men been allowed to get married and retain their spouses’ rights, and I wonder how different things might have been if Clinton had not been cornered by the scandal.
When they met, one could not immigrate without a marriage certificate. Interracial marriage was prohibited in the USA not long ago. When Lin's partner moved to the USA at that time, he became undocumented. The fear of persecution and extradition was ever-present. Simple activities such as working or going to the hospital took on outsized proportions. Lin brilliantly walks through all the political minutiae and key historical events that ultimately culminate in a superb hybrid of memoir and non-fiction, essential reading for understanding gay rights in the USA and UK. My only qualm with this novel is the constant switch between memoir and political analysis. I reckon a short memoir, with a companion volume, could work better, as the reader wouldn't have to readjust their reading mindset every chapter.
Deep House is a grounded queer memoir woven with meticulous research on the many obstacles politics can impose on queer life. It is an important book to anyone wanting more insights into the politics of marital immigration in the USA and UK throughout our recent modern history.
I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher Penguin Press UK – Allen Lane, Particular, Pelican, Penguin Classics via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Read
May 13, 2025One of the things that queer and trans people know is that anatomies are not tool kits. We can be a more pliable kid of puzzle.
I'm a borderline militant queer separatist. I dream of an island of our own to do our own things. Picking a book about marriage might seem like an odd choice, since I really think the thing should be abolished (along with the family, the state, and humanity). But pick it I did, and I never regretted it, because Jeremy Atherton Lin manages to find points de capiton to deftly suture the social to his own body. I kept turning the pages in almost noiresque suspense, impatient to find out how it all ends, while knowing full well how it ends - they get married, marriage is normalized, nothing to see at the end. But historically, there is so much to see: a long, long history of abuse, violence, brutality and, at best, neglect. What awaits us, if recent examples in the UK and US are anything to go by, is more of the same after a very brief respite, and then only for some.
I'm a borderline militant queer separatist. I dream of an island of our own to do our own things. Picking a book about marriage might seem like an odd choice, since I really think the thing should be abolished (along with the family, the state, and humanity). But pick it I did, and I never regretted it, because Jeremy Atherton Lin manages to find points de capiton to deftly suture the social to his own body. I kept turning the pages in almost noiresque suspense, impatient to find out how it all ends, while knowing full well how it ends - they get married, marriage is normalized, nothing to see at the end. But historically, there is so much to see: a long, long history of abuse, violence, brutality and, at best, neglect. What awaits us, if recent examples in the UK and US are anything to go by, is more of the same after a very brief respite, and then only for some.
June 18, 2025
i like my gay history spoon fed to me interspersed with stories of gayer history
August 20, 2025
I thought this was a really accessible, easy read about queer history mainly centered around the US. Breaking up the essays on marriage rights and sodomy laws with details of the author’s own relationship made this book seem way shorter than it was. The author does a great job of simplifying the case law and circumstances and injects a bit of humor. However, where the author was able to inject humanity into the history it seems like he sacrificed it from his own personal story. While the Supreme Court cases seemed lively his relationship felt soulless and like a list of events that happened, a list that isn’t necessarily in chronological order. I really felt this when the author talked about his links and sex life. It seemed clinical and presumptuous, as if his desires were universal and almost felt judgy if you disagreed. He spends much of the book craving marriage, and by then end seems judgy of couples who do want that.
But overall the comprehensive history surrounding the fight for gay marriage was more interesting than any negatives about the author’s personal relationship.
But overall the comprehensive history surrounding the fight for gay marriage was more interesting than any negatives about the author’s personal relationship.
June 16, 2025
Review: Deep House by Jeremy Atherton Lin
I remember reading Gay Bar back in 2022, while in Mexico City. I found it blazing and inspiring—mostly because of how singular and bold Jeremy’s voice felt throughout the book. Oddly, in 2025, as I tried to reread Gay Bar ahead of Deep House’s release, something felt off. Had I not noticed the cracks before—the very gaps that now widen into deep, unredeemable chasms in this new book? What happened?
Unfortunately, Deep House is all over the place. It’s as if Jeremy wasn’t sure what voice to strike, and you can quite literally feel someone losing their footing—throwing anything at the page in hopes that something might stick. The result is disorienting.
A few key elements made this an especially unpleasant reading experience for me:
1. A lack of narrative thread:
The book oscillates between Jeremy’s relationship with his partner, their coming of age, the legalization of gay marriage, and scattered, memoir-adjacent reflections on artists, theorists, and family. There could have been a throughline here—but Jeremy squanders it. I don’t think he knew where to draw the line between intimacy and overextension. That uncertainty bleeds into the chapters, leaving the reader to constantly ask: What is the purpose of this? Maggie Nelson, whom both Jeremy and I revere, has said: let people say what they want to say. Sure. But when the “why” behind that saying is missing, it makes for a frustrating experience. This book suffers from that very absence.
2. Jarring shifts in tone and language:
Jeremy code-switches aggressively—from hypersexual, emotionally heightened personal chapters to rigorously academic (and frankly, boring) sections. I typically love when memoirs blend the personal and the theoretical, but the shifts here are so abrupt, they become unreadable. One wonders: was this intended as a kind of art piece, a reflection of inner fragmentation? Maybe. But the execution falters, and I don’t know if I can excuse it on intention alone. The result is disjointed, and ultimately, alienating.
3. The portrayal of Famous feels hollow:
This is the most controversial take I’ll share, but Deep House, like another memoir I couldn’t connect with—Hua Hsu’s Stay True—suffers from a flattening of its central subject. Jeremy’s partner, Famous, feels more like a symbol or narrative device than a full person. And that’s hard to accept in a memoir so centered on their shared journey—through immigration, gay marriage, and emotional entanglement. Why do we know so little about Famous’s interiority? Why did he move on a whim? What did he feel when his mother was diagnosed with cancer and he couldn’t travel to her? What were his thoughts on being at the center of their sexual adventures? He remains a bystander in a story that heavily leans on his presence.
At a time when a book like this could illuminate urgent themes—immigration, gay marriage, the shifting nature of queer identity—it’s frustrating to walk away feeling so little. I wanted to feel moved. Instead, I felt disconnected. It’s my opinion, of course, but this felt like a classic sophomore slump.
That said, Jeremy’s voice does glimmer through now and then. I still believe he has something vital to say. I just hope the next book knows what that is.
I remember reading Gay Bar back in 2022, while in Mexico City. I found it blazing and inspiring—mostly because of how singular and bold Jeremy’s voice felt throughout the book. Oddly, in 2025, as I tried to reread Gay Bar ahead of Deep House’s release, something felt off. Had I not noticed the cracks before—the very gaps that now widen into deep, unredeemable chasms in this new book? What happened?
Unfortunately, Deep House is all over the place. It’s as if Jeremy wasn’t sure what voice to strike, and you can quite literally feel someone losing their footing—throwing anything at the page in hopes that something might stick. The result is disorienting.
A few key elements made this an especially unpleasant reading experience for me:
1. A lack of narrative thread:
The book oscillates between Jeremy’s relationship with his partner, their coming of age, the legalization of gay marriage, and scattered, memoir-adjacent reflections on artists, theorists, and family. There could have been a throughline here—but Jeremy squanders it. I don’t think he knew where to draw the line between intimacy and overextension. That uncertainty bleeds into the chapters, leaving the reader to constantly ask: What is the purpose of this? Maggie Nelson, whom both Jeremy and I revere, has said: let people say what they want to say. Sure. But when the “why” behind that saying is missing, it makes for a frustrating experience. This book suffers from that very absence.
2. Jarring shifts in tone and language:
Jeremy code-switches aggressively—from hypersexual, emotionally heightened personal chapters to rigorously academic (and frankly, boring) sections. I typically love when memoirs blend the personal and the theoretical, but the shifts here are so abrupt, they become unreadable. One wonders: was this intended as a kind of art piece, a reflection of inner fragmentation? Maybe. But the execution falters, and I don’t know if I can excuse it on intention alone. The result is disjointed, and ultimately, alienating.
3. The portrayal of Famous feels hollow:
This is the most controversial take I’ll share, but Deep House, like another memoir I couldn’t connect with—Hua Hsu’s Stay True—suffers from a flattening of its central subject. Jeremy’s partner, Famous, feels more like a symbol or narrative device than a full person. And that’s hard to accept in a memoir so centered on their shared journey—through immigration, gay marriage, and emotional entanglement. Why do we know so little about Famous’s interiority? Why did he move on a whim? What did he feel when his mother was diagnosed with cancer and he couldn’t travel to her? What were his thoughts on being at the center of their sexual adventures? He remains a bystander in a story that heavily leans on his presence.
At a time when a book like this could illuminate urgent themes—immigration, gay marriage, the shifting nature of queer identity—it’s frustrating to walk away feeling so little. I wanted to feel moved. Instead, I felt disconnected. It’s my opinion, of course, but this felt like a classic sophomore slump.
That said, Jeremy’s voice does glimmer through now and then. I still believe he has something vital to say. I just hope the next book knows what that is.
May 18, 2025
an incredible book—moving, intimate, urgent, meticulously researched
August 16, 2025
Truly beautiful. I am so happy I took the time to savour this book.
November 16, 2025
Thank you, Penguin Random House, for my copy of this really interesting book.
It was not what I expected at all, a deep delve into a rich and varied history of one relationship whilst exploring the battles and fights of many more who mainly suffered at the hands of laws and law makers.
This was a really interesting and thought-provoking read, although I had no idea what the topic of the book was. I was captivated from the start and finished it in a day.
Very much the social history read I'm enjoying more and more as I get older.
It was not what I expected at all, a deep delve into a rich and varied history of one relationship whilst exploring the battles and fights of many more who mainly suffered at the hands of laws and law makers.
This was a really interesting and thought-provoking read, although I had no idea what the topic of the book was. I was captivated from the start and finished it in a day.
Very much the social history read I'm enjoying more and more as I get older.
December 21, 2025
really solid! the weaving of memoir and gay marriage/legal history was so fluid and seamless. gavin newsom jumpscare at the end
June 14, 2025
This was a great read even though it was quite unexpected. It is a mixture of an international love story developing into a marriage woven with the history of fight for gay marriage. I was not hugely fond of the mixture but it works although the history merely focuses on developments in the United Kingdom and United States so it is lacking quite a bit. Regardless, this history is directly relevant to the story of the author. Overall it is well presented and worth the easy read.
January 14, 2026
What a way to start off 2026! I read Lin's Gay Bar a few years back, and thoroughly enjoyed his blend of memoir and gay history, and I can say that if you liked that book, you will love Deep House. In this book, he traces the story of his relationship with his partner, referred to briefly as 'Famous', from their meeting in 1996 to the late 00's. Along the way, he incorporates various legal cases, anecdotes, stories of gay people (both well-known and relatively obscure) who got roped into the story of the long quest for equal rights. The historical context that is covered here starts with the signing of Defense of Marriage Act by Bill Clinton in the 90s to the Obergefell ruling by SCOTUS in 2015, and Lin is quick to state that passing marriage equality is not the end of the road, nor was that the main goal of many within the gay rights movement, which I feel is an important distinction to make. The blending of the historical record never feels pedantic or saccharine, as Lin has a fierce control of language and knows how to strike the perfect balance. The memoir aspects of Deep House really resonated. A large section of the book focuses on his years living in San Francisco and working at a video rental store--something that in a lesser writer's hands could have easily felt boring or unimportant, but is so vividly rendered, I was deeply moved. This book is full of gorgeous writing. Despite it only being mid-January as I write this review, I suspect Deep House will be a top read of the year for me. 5/5
April 10, 2025
Thank you @littlebrown for the advanced copy to review!
A rule-breaking, sweat-soaked, genre-busting story of outlaw love.
^from the publisher!
Having read Gay Bar by @jeremyathertonlin - I knew I was in for a treat with this book. First, I love Jeremy’s writing style. The way he weaves personal experience with facts and history is done beautifully.
Second, I love his partner “Famous Blue Raincoat.” Reading more about their life together was awesome and I feel like they have so many stories to tell.
Third, I just really loved this deep dive into queer marriage history and how so much of it affected his personal life. How stressful that time must have been for these two!
My FAVORITE chapter was the road trip one. It just felt like such a perfect break in some of the heaviness of the facts and figures. It felt so real and raw. Also the last chapter was the sweetest and the end!!
I’d read another book by Jeremy for sure. Fully recommend this one for a dose of queer history with a fantastic and interesting personal touch.
A rule-breaking, sweat-soaked, genre-busting story of outlaw love.
^from the publisher!
Having read Gay Bar by @jeremyathertonlin - I knew I was in for a treat with this book. First, I love Jeremy’s writing style. The way he weaves personal experience with facts and history is done beautifully.
Second, I love his partner “Famous Blue Raincoat.” Reading more about their life together was awesome and I feel like they have so many stories to tell.
Third, I just really loved this deep dive into queer marriage history and how so much of it affected his personal life. How stressful that time must have been for these two!
My FAVORITE chapter was the road trip one. It just felt like such a perfect break in some of the heaviness of the facts and figures. It felt so real and raw. Also the last chapter was the sweetest and the end!!
I’d read another book by Jeremy for sure. Fully recommend this one for a dose of queer history with a fantastic and interesting personal touch.
August 11, 2025
First nonfiction book I’ve truly loved. When switching between historical narrative and autobiographical love story, the second and third person povs were reserved for their respective portion. The reader became the authors lover, recalling the events as if he was reminiscing one on one with the reader. This brought me into his world. I felt as if I was being reminded of intimate memories I had forgotten. The historical narrative portion was informational AND entertaining. Lin’s humor is quite effective and works well alongside his uncensored, unashamed sexuality. And boy does he know how to write some fantastic similes.
I laughed, I cried, I learned, and I would read again.
I laughed, I cried, I learned, and I would read again.
January 1, 2026
This book took me a while to read, which seems kind of appropriate because it's partly about the path to the legalization of gay marriage, which took FOREVER. I liked the parts about Lin's own relationship with his husband better than the recaps of the legal/cultural machinations that led to gay marriage but this is partly because I lived through all of that - much of it in California - and didn't necessarily need to re-live it. Lin has a beautiful sense of drama in everyday things, and he writes about his husband with such reverence it's lovely.
June 6, 2025
Tão bom quanto Gay Bar!!!
Acho tão interessante ler sobre as vivências do Jeremy, curioso pra ver o que pode vir depois deste...
Acho tão interessante ler sobre as vivências do Jeremy, curioso pra ver o que pode vir depois deste...
November 30, 2025
“And when I remember now, I am still living that; it has been folded into me and continues to resonate.” p320
June 20, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley, the publisher, and author for an early opportunity to read this book. I thought I was the target audience, as I love a good love story, and this one promised the author’s own personal love story, and of his struggles for a legal, gay marriage that would allow for immigration into the United States. Along the way, the author recounts with minute detail the historical struggle of the modern movement to legalize same sex marriage, both in the US and the UK. I love these aspects of the book, as I am very much into modern social and cultural history/movements, particularly those that impact historically marginalized communities. However, I was not a fan of the very descriptive and graphic sexual escapades, which seemed to occur frequently and often and in great detail. So, as the legendary Meat Loaf sang, “two out of three ain’t bad!”
July 5, 2025
The book shifts between the author’s personal life and the broader political fight for gay marriage over time. It was very interesting, and I did learn more about queer history, but the overall execution felt too chaotic for me.
At times, I wasn’t sure if we were in the past or the future, or even if the author actually knew the people he was describing. This made the reading experience feel disorienting.
In general, it was okay, but I also found it quite frustrating. I nearly gave up halfway through but powered through to the end. I do respect the work that went into it, though, as there’s a lot of condensed information packed into these pages.
At times, I wasn’t sure if we were in the past or the future, or even if the author actually knew the people he was describing. This made the reading experience feel disorienting.
In general, it was okay, but I also found it quite frustrating. I nearly gave up halfway through but powered through to the end. I do respect the work that went into it, though, as there’s a lot of condensed information packed into these pages.
July 14, 2025
Jeremy Atherton Lin's newest book, *Deep House*, is a hybrid nonfiction-memoir story, and having finished it, I'm regretting not having read *Gay Bar*, his previous book, before this one. I loved the expertly paced chronology, and am curious how he fashioned that story as well.
For while *Deep House* is insightful in its tracing of marriage equality reform over the past decades, the book's power is in the parallel personal narrative of his life with his partner, to whom he narrates the story in an intimate second-person point of view, running alongside his meticulous research. The two chronologies move in an interesting and engaging way.
I love Edmund White's blurb for the book: "DH goes from the penseroso of the best history of marriage equality we have to the allegro of a very hot gay love story told in the funniest, most tender way."
Because yes, the handful of sex scenes in this book are rapturously rendered--both in the sheer description and its illuminating musings on mastery and surrender. It is, also, very funny and maybe a better word, would again, be rapturous. Laughs come from a space of being seen for things we usually hide.
I know queer people have lots of thoughts about marriage, pro and con, and many of us are creating partnerships and marriages and families that defy law and expectation--not just because we have to but out of joyful choice. Lin doesn't seem to be necessarily flag-waving for gay marriage; in fact the climax of the book (hehe) is not the final signing of bill into law. It's the realization that in our fight not just for equality but also our own worthiness, we find others to witness our growth, may they be partners, friends, or other loved ones, and that's makes queer individuals no different than anyone else. Except maybe better poised, because of the lawlessness of our couplings, untethered to conventionality, to stand in the exciting glow of ecstatic freedom.
For while *Deep House* is insightful in its tracing of marriage equality reform over the past decades, the book's power is in the parallel personal narrative of his life with his partner, to whom he narrates the story in an intimate second-person point of view, running alongside his meticulous research. The two chronologies move in an interesting and engaging way.
I love Edmund White's blurb for the book: "DH goes from the penseroso of the best history of marriage equality we have to the allegro of a very hot gay love story told in the funniest, most tender way."
Because yes, the handful of sex scenes in this book are rapturously rendered--both in the sheer description and its illuminating musings on mastery and surrender. It is, also, very funny and maybe a better word, would again, be rapturous. Laughs come from a space of being seen for things we usually hide.
I know queer people have lots of thoughts about marriage, pro and con, and many of us are creating partnerships and marriages and families that defy law and expectation--not just because we have to but out of joyful choice. Lin doesn't seem to be necessarily flag-waving for gay marriage; in fact the climax of the book (hehe) is not the final signing of bill into law. It's the realization that in our fight not just for equality but also our own worthiness, we find others to witness our growth, may they be partners, friends, or other loved ones, and that's makes queer individuals no different than anyone else. Except maybe better poised, because of the lawlessness of our couplings, untethered to conventionality, to stand in the exciting glow of ecstatic freedom.
July 2, 2025
“Any time quite so many queers file into the chambers of the Supreme Court, opportunities present themselves for moments of high camp.”
Reading this as someone born in 1992, the story feels both familiar and distant. I was old enough to see some of these things as they happened, but young enough still to be totally ignorant to their gravity. When I was a teenager in Metro Detroit, aware of my own sexual identity but too terrified then to admit it (let alone explore it), I remember thinking same-sex marriage was so inevitable. Every person I knew was in favor of it (every person I knew was a teenage emo, art kid, or my mom), and I could not even fathom why it was such an issue for some other people (the president and my dad). Between 2006 and 2010, my high school had a thriving GSA and an out lesbian prom queen. Hilary Duff was advising the world to cease using homophobic epithets. My ex boyfriend had a crush on my current boyfriend. It felt like queer acceptance was all around me—and therefore inevitable. When same-sex marriage was legalized in the US in 2015, I remember thinking, “FINALLY,” as though the only thing hindering it all those years was the slow wheels of government bureaucracy. Reading this book puts the most interesting juxtaposition into frame for me—what a privilege to have been so ignorant and surrounded by so much acceptance.
Where Lin especially shines in this book is his sense of balance. I laughed, I cried, I grimaced—all at regular intervals. He has a wonderful ability to create these educational vignettes that ultimately leave me weeping every other chapter. His own love story interwoven throughout provides much needed levity and tenderness at times, though many of his personal stories take you on an emotional rollercoaster all their own.
The shortest chapter, and a standout for me, is chapter eleven: Leaves Like Twinks. It draws immediately to mind a Richard Siken poem, and it offers a compelling break in Lin’s otherwise steady structure. Definitely one to go back and re-read.
Having finished Deep House, I feel the same
as I did when I finished Gay Bar: I want to read everything Jeremy Atherton Lin has read. I want to have heard all the same music and seen all the same art. I want to be so earnest, so educated, and so funny. So this is my open plea to you, Jeremy Atherton Lin: drop your summer reading list.
Reading this as someone born in 1992, the story feels both familiar and distant. I was old enough to see some of these things as they happened, but young enough still to be totally ignorant to their gravity. When I was a teenager in Metro Detroit, aware of my own sexual identity but too terrified then to admit it (let alone explore it), I remember thinking same-sex marriage was so inevitable. Every person I knew was in favor of it (every person I knew was a teenage emo, art kid, or my mom), and I could not even fathom why it was such an issue for some other people (the president and my dad). Between 2006 and 2010, my high school had a thriving GSA and an out lesbian prom queen. Hilary Duff was advising the world to cease using homophobic epithets. My ex boyfriend had a crush on my current boyfriend. It felt like queer acceptance was all around me—and therefore inevitable. When same-sex marriage was legalized in the US in 2015, I remember thinking, “FINALLY,” as though the only thing hindering it all those years was the slow wheels of government bureaucracy. Reading this book puts the most interesting juxtaposition into frame for me—what a privilege to have been so ignorant and surrounded by so much acceptance.
Where Lin especially shines in this book is his sense of balance. I laughed, I cried, I grimaced—all at regular intervals. He has a wonderful ability to create these educational vignettes that ultimately leave me weeping every other chapter. His own love story interwoven throughout provides much needed levity and tenderness at times, though many of his personal stories take you on an emotional rollercoaster all their own.
The shortest chapter, and a standout for me, is chapter eleven: Leaves Like Twinks. It draws immediately to mind a Richard Siken poem, and it offers a compelling break in Lin’s otherwise steady structure. Definitely one to go back and re-read.
Having finished Deep House, I feel the same
as I did when I finished Gay Bar: I want to read everything Jeremy Atherton Lin has read. I want to have heard all the same music and seen all the same art. I want to be so earnest, so educated, and so funny. So this is my open plea to you, Jeremy Atherton Lin: drop your summer reading list.
September 25, 2025
worse than Gay Bar but also more affecting. the legal stuff is superlative and features Lin doing the personal essay thing of repeating words and phrases from other queer thinkers and passing that off as enough or hoping that the way in which these phrases are ordered somehow creates a kind of elusive insight. i think Gay Bar mostly avoided this and it comes out frustratingly here. agree with others in that there's a part of me that wishes he abandoned the legal history of gay marriage all together; a lot of it comes across as "nice to know" but acts aloofly on the narrative, particularly compared to the intensity and sensitivity to which he approaches his own life with Famous. towards the beginning, especially, i noticed a pattern of diving deep into the legal history before zooming back out and into the personal with "all the while, we were not paying attention to any of that!" these two sides to the narrative were never fully allowed to bounce off each other and so all of the book's tenderness comes to in spite of it.
the video store section was the best part and i wish the recurring characters played more of a role in the narrative; how exactly was community being built and, as such, how was it later abandoned?
still, Lin is lovely and the whole thing ends sweetly. what a couple!
the video store section was the best part and i wish the recurring characters played more of a role in the narrative; how exactly was community being built and, as such, how was it later abandoned?
still, Lin is lovely and the whole thing ends sweetly. what a couple!
July 28, 2025
I was ready to love this book and so I went into it a bit biased (favorably) thinking that I would love it becuase of how much I loved Jeremy Atherton Lin's previous book Gay Bar. Deep House did not disappoint in the slightest. Similar to Gay Bar's weaving of memoir and history, Deep House was a beautiful love story about the author's personal love story, pieced together with histories of LGBTQ+ domestic partnership and the laws that have made things especially challening for queer partners to stay together with differing citizenships. I especially loved reading this as another angle to consider what it means to get married as a queer person and the countless people who fought for, wanted, and did or didn't get to see gay marriage legalized.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 174 reviews