NEED TO KNOW<\/p>\n
Sir Lancelot’s tale is getting a fresh queer retelling in The Lost Book of Lancelot<\/a>!\n<\/p>\n Author John Glynn<\/a> revives the epic character Sir Lancelot \u2014 orphan, knight and hero with a seat at King Arthur’s Round Table \u2014 and reimagines his famous story through a queer lens in The Lost Book of Lancelot<\/a>. Set to debut in May 2026, Glynn’s tale lends vulnerability and complexity to a well-known hero, while honoring the character’s origins of medieval lore.\n<\/p>\n Born nameless and orphaned on the Isle of Women, a boy discovers his destiny and true identity: Lancelot. He soon begins training to be a knight with the help of “handsome” Galehaut, and their bond leads each to discover themselves. “But no matter how tightly they cling to one another, each has a role to play in the wizard Merlin’s grand prophecies,” the book’s synopsis reads.\n<\/p>\n Author John Glynn.<\/p>\n Sylvie Rosokoff<\/p>\n Lancelot’s fate leads him to Camelot, where he and the other knights of King Arther seek out the Holy Grail. On his journey, Lancelot finds himself in a queer love triangle, fighting off madness and stumbling on his own truths.\n<\/p>\n “As he grows closer to his fellow knights, Lancelot must keep an explosive secret to himself \u2014\u00a0the truth of what he left behind on the Isle of Women, of the man he truly is beneath the armor,” the synopsis reads.\n<\/p>\n Read an early excerpt from the prologue of The Lost Book of Lancelot<\/a> below.\n<\/p>\n In my earliest memory, I want to know magic.\n<\/p>\n It\u2019s sunset on the Isle of Women, and I\u2019m standing on the shore where the waves begin to curl. My feet are bare, my breeches rolled up. I\u2019m dressed in a tunic I have mended many times. I can sew a patch, I can skin a deer. Each day I gather firewood and sweep the floorboards and help with the cooking. When I\u2019m moving, my mind is still.\n<\/p>\n Across the horizon I see the shapes of other islands. I feel the urge to know those islands, to make myself known on them. If I had magic, I could fly to them, like the winged gods I read of. Viviana has taught me many things, but she has not taught me magic. I wonder when she will.\n<\/p>\n Here she is now, drifting down to the beach. It\u2019s time for our nightly forest walk.\n<\/p>\n \u201cCome,\u201d she says. \u201cLet\u2019s venture.\u201d\n<\/p>\n She grabs my hand and we press into the woods. The trail is dark and cool, the sun fading to the sound of insects. I love being next to her. I love the coldness of her hand on mine. Mother is not the right word, but it is the closest. As she points out the wonders around us, the sylvan canopy transforms her. Her long brown hair shimmers. The sapphire pendant around her neck seems to glow. She wears gold sandals with thin woven straps, and with each step she takes, I notice moonflowers, opening and stretching towards her.\n<\/p>\n She shows me rabbits, asleep in their thickets. An apricot, ripe on its branch, traps all the colors of the sunset. We pass a stream filled with precious stones, and I think of the stones I\u2019ve heard tales of, those that grant magic to the most heroic knights.\n<\/p>\n I want nothing more than to be a knight. They have a place in the world and people who love them. Most of all, they are never lonely. I doubt I am brave enough to become a knight, but maybe if Viviana teaches me her magic…\n<\/p>\n \u201cI can teach you many things,\u201d she says, pulling me close. \u201cSome of which will feel like magic.\u201d\n<\/p>\n ‘The Lost Book of Lancelot.’.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Grand Central Publishing, a division of Hachette Book Group<\/p>\n She cups her hands together, pulls them down to my level. Suddenly, from inside, they glow.\n<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s magic!\u201d I cry.\n<\/p>\n She unclasps her hands. A firefly dithers out, weighed down by its own vibrant belly.\n<\/p>\n \u201cIt looks like magic,\u201d she says, her voice barely above a whisper. \u201cBut it\u2019s just the world revealing itself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n With her permission I, too, clasp the firefly. I wait. When my palms don\u2019t illuminate, I worry I\u2019ve done something wrong. That the world will not glow for me. That nothing ever will.\n<\/p>\n I open my hand. The firefly lies mashed in the folds of my palm.\n<\/p>\n The damage is horrifying. A living thing, now in bits. I realize, almost instantly, that what I\u2019ve done is irrecoverable. Even Viviana\u2019s magic can\u2019t bring the firefly back to life. A desperate wrongness rises from my stomach.\n<\/p>\n