Double Booked (2022) written by Lily Lindon, is the best bi book I’ve ever read, or, more precisely, the most bi book I’ve ever read, because the plot is dedicated to bisexuality from beginning to end.
The novel follows Georgina Green, a 26-year-old music teacher from London who’s always done what’s expected of her. Long-term boyfriend? Check. Sensible job? Check. Quiet, predictable life with a calendar that hasn’t changed for years? Also check. But things start to crack when her best friend drags her to a gay bar — and she meets Kit, a gorgeous, mysterious drummer from an all-lesbian pop band.
Double Booked challenges stereotypes such as the idea that being bi is “just a phase”, that bi people must choose between the gay and straight worlds, that they are somehow more privileged than gay or lesbian. It also explores how underrepresentation — and misrepresentation — of bi people has made the world more difficult for them.
Written by a bi author who was struggling with coming out and self-acceptance at the time of writing, Double Booked is not just a romantic story of a girl who falls in love with a girl after a seven years stable relationship with a boyfriend. It’s a laugh-out-loud funny, heartwarming, and wise story about grief, friendship, and the value of authenticity.
The main character, Georgina Green, suddenly realizes at the age of 26 that she is not straight. She has a supportive, LGBT friendly partner, her best friend is a lesbian influencer, and — as we later find out — even her mother is ready to accept her for who she is. But Georgina can’t accept herself. She thinks she has to choose between the gay world and the straight world. So by day, she is Gina — a nice music teacher who shares her calendar with her long-term boyfriend and leads a stable but predictable life. At night, she becomes George — a rebellious lesbian musician and a member of the queer indie band Phace.
A double life may seem exciting, but Georgina is living a lie: she lies to her boyfriend, to her bandmates, and to her mother.
Her lies are based on a fear that no one will accept her for who she truly is, and she feels torn in half. Only when she almost loses her best friend, her band, and her boyfriend does she realize that she doesn’t have to choose.
I’ve been so worried about proving to others that I belong in Straight World and in Gay World that l’ve been boxing myself. I viewed other people’s identities as criticisms of my own. But, duh, there’s no one way to be queer, just as there’s one way to be straight. Doubtless I’ve met people who swing in all sorts of different directions, but I couldn’t see bir variety outside my own insecurity. And I belong in the Alphabet Club, just as much as all of them do. I’m not only “half-gay” or ‘half-straight’. I’m fully bi, all the time. And, finely, I think that’s an OK thing to be.
Gina lives with internalized shame that goes beyond bisexuality: she’s ashamed that, many years ago, she was performing at a gig when her father died, and she falsely blamed herself for his death. It stopped her from playing music outside of school lessons for years — despite later learning that her father wanted her to pursue a music career. When she meets Phace and falls in love with Kit, it liberates her and helps her start playing again, but she still struggles to come out for fear of losing the only parent she has left.
Georgina struggles to accept herself because of her fears and the lack of representation in mainstream culture — and the two are connected. For example, when Gina returns home to see her mother after her “normal” life crumbles and prepares herself to come out to her mom, she stands in her childhood bedroom, remembering how her mother didn’t understand what “bi” meant, thinking that it’s “just a phase” and called it “bisexuelle”:
I wonder if all this would have been easier if I’d realized my sexuality when I was younger. If there were more role models, if the world was more accepting, if I’d never felt the need to repress that. If there was no pressure to even label yourself at all, because everyone was chill with the thought that everyone might be a bit bi, a bit ‘bisexuelle’.
Oh God. Remembering the way Mum pronounced that, so cuttingly, over the phone, I buried my head in my pillows.
Gina is often anxious, but her fears are often grounded in the real experiences of discrimination within the queer community. When she fears her mother might reject her, she remembers how her best friend was estranged from her family after coming out as a lesbian.
When she worries that the headmistress of her school might fire her for being in a lesbian band, it reflects real cases of discrimination against LGBT employees in education. It’s hard to be yourself when even in a lesbian band some of your friends might say “bi are the most privileged among LGBT” or when people from your old student band make queerphobic jokes.
Double Booked highlights an interesting contradiction in our society. On one hand, it might seem that millennial women of Gina’s generation should understand bisexuality — especially when her best friend is a prominent LGBT online influencer. But on the other hand, there’s a lot of misinformation about the bi community, and if you’re not specifically interested in the topic, it’s easy to internalize those stereotypes.
Double Booked is deeply embedded in queer culture and many book scenes happening in queer spaces — gay bars, queer band rehearsals — but even among gay people, bi folks are often forgotten or erased. The novel portrays this reality perfectly.
This is the book’s main value from a representation perspective: it’s not just a story about one woman, her love, and her family struggles — it’s a story about the stigma and stereotypes bi people face every day. And thanks to the happy ending that follows Gina’s decision to be openly bi, the novel offers hope that things can get better.