Review of A/S/L by Jeanne Thornton: A Glimpse into Queer Longing and Digital Worlds
As a child of the ’90s, the mere title A/S/L conjured up a rush of nostalgia. It felt like an echo of late-night chatroom conversations filled with longing and curiosity—a time when the internet was both an escape and a canvas. Jeanne Thornton’s novel captures all this and more, weaving elements of queer identity, digital subcultures, and the raw beauty of trans survival. I was fortunate enough to read an eARC, courtesy of NetGalley and Soho Press, and I can honestly say that this book is a treasure waiting to be discovered when it publishes on April 1, 2025.
A/S/L transports us between 1998 and 2016, following three gender-questioning teens—Abraxa, Sash, and Lilith—as they create the video game Saga of the Sorceress within the confines of an online chatroom. Fast forward to their estranged adult lives, and Thornton reveals the tortured intricacies of their identities. What struck me most was how their childhood dreams intertwined with their present realities, illustrating the struggles of reconciling a past of creativity and belonging with an adult world that often feels cold and unwelcoming.
Thornton’s prose feels like a pulse—at times dreamy and poetic, evoking the fragility of identity formation, and at other moments, stark and jagged, mirroring the characters’ struggles. The emotional core of the story resides in its exploration of longing and connection. Each character embodies a different facet of the trans experience: Abraxa, defiant and restless; Lilith, trapped yet yearning for something deeper; and Sash, who uses storytelling as a way to navigate her desires. The tension between fantasy and reality resonates deeply, challenging us as readers to consider the worlds we construct to survive.
I found myself particularly captivated by the way Thornton portrays video games as queer art forms—spaces where identities are fluid, imaginatively constructed, and ultimately liberating. The concept that Saga of the Sorceress was more than just a game but rather a foundational world for these characters struck a chord in me. The power of art as a means of reclamation lingered in my mind long after I put the book down.
If I had to voice any critiques, I would mention that the pacing occasionally falters. Some chapters felt a tad unwieldy, pulling me from the beautifully crafted emotional arcs. Yet, these moments of disjointedness serve to reflect the complexities of trans lives, which are by no means tidy or easily structured.
A/S/L is a poignant exploration of queer community and the vulnerabilities of relationships. Its themes resonate with anyone who has navigated the tangled web of identity, belonging, and creative expression. I’d eagerly recommend this book to lovers of introspective trans fiction, fans of digital culture narratives, and those nostalgic for the late ’90s internet.
In a world that often strives for neat resolutions, Thornton offers us an alternative: the radical beauty of rebuilding together. This journey through the lives of these three women made me reflect on my own creative pursuits and the powerful connections we forge in the most unexpected places. I walked away from this novel with a renewed sense of appreciation for the complexities of identity and the community we build around our shared experiences.