Gay Literature and New Theological Studies is a series of glances—print pamphlets, booklets, and books—published by homodoxy.

The first in the series is Coarse Work: Essays in Theology and Gay Life by Samuel Ernest. The idea for this book has shifted and may shift more, but I believe it will appear as follows. It will be about 200 pages. To preorder ($10) or donate to the printing costs, click here; then—if you’d like your donation to be your purchase—fill out the form below.

Summary stitched together from the preface:

The first part of the book outlines the theological perspective that, so far at least, constitutes homodoxy. These three essays were written, revised, and published online at between—two of them are still available here for free! They share some of the same thoughts, return to many of the same sources. I have subsequently tweaked “Queer/Christian Collapse,” which was first envisioned as a manifesto. The second part consists of four essays written prior to homodoxy, during my time at divinity school. They share many of the same topics—gayness, sex, the church, celibacy, poetry, life writing. I do not publish these essays because I think they are Important Contributions to Theology or Literary Studies or as particularly excellent works of writing that deserve a wide audience. The essays of Part Two provide a context of sorts for homodoxy and my more recent work—not necessary context, but, I hope, interesting to some. This second part is a glance into my own formation.

The work in this book leads to one of the main concerns that has occupied my mind for the last couple years: the concealment of gay sex within theology, including some of its gay and queer varieties. The absence of good thought about gay sex in theology—pastoral, popular, systematic—is a barrier that separates gays of various sexual statuses (celibate, monogamous, married, single, promiscuous, etc.) and of various kinds of interest or disinterest and involvement in the church. I’d like to believe there is a more alluring, more compelling, and more theologically satisfying way of considering different forms of faithful queer life as part of a shared life than the relationship between two Sides: the gay-marriage crowd and the celibate crowd. Or between the church (however defined) and the not-church (however defined). I don’t get to the answer I desire in this book, but I attempt to name the problem as I see it and invite you to come with me into it.

In putting these essays in print, I hope to put them to rest, like burying the bones of a ghost so it can find peace—rest, at least, for me, as they may or may not begin to dance around for you.

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