In China, the expression of a queer identity has long occurred in ways and in places that are difficult to observe and research. As such, academic work on the topic has been limited in the social sciences, which often rely on surveys and interviews as data sources. But, cultural and film studies have been a notable and important exception. While Chinese queer identity formation and expression has certainly not been limited to film, it is through these particular cultural narratives that it has been made more legible, and thus researchable for academics both inside and outside China. Yet, somewhat ironically, for many social scientists this work is seen as inaccessible to them, with its unfamiliar languages, ontologies and epistemologies. We have needed a book that bridges this divide, one that could be consumed and appreciated by scholars in various disciplines, students at all levels and areas of interest. Hongwei Bao has written that book, one that is both appropriately self-aware of its limitations and bold in its contributions.

Queer Comrades examines how China's socialist legacies have shaped sexual identity, queer popular culture and political activism. Bao suggests that the notion of a socialist comrade and the “postsocialist queer” are mutually constituted, like the term tongzhi itself. He argues that broader grassroots mobilization during the last 75 years has been the basis upon which queer people have constructed “a radical response to the actions of a repressive state and neoliberal capitalist vision” it promotes (p. 4) – essentially, embodying what it was supposed to be in theory to reject what is has become in practice.

It is the way he supports these arguments that will most fascinate readers. Over eight chapters Bao deploys a wide range of methods and approaches – interviews, participant observation, archival research, historiographies and biographies – engaging expected literatures (e.g., cultural and film studies) and more unexpected ones (e.g. sociology and political science). After an introduction that sets out the aims and methods of the book, chapter two provides a “spatial” account of the emergence of queer in Shanghai. Chapter three offers a genealogy of the term tongzhi, while also beginning the analysis of gay activism in China. Chapter four uses archival research on “conversion therapy” as a case study to explore how sexual subjectivity was politicized in China, while chapter five is a biography of Cui Zi'en, a prominent gay filmmaker. Chapter six focuses again on the importance of space, this time through accounts of queer film festivals. The last substantive chapter returns to more directly focus on the development of gay activism.

This book embodies qualities we no longer expect of academic monographs. It is wonderfully written and Bao is a gifted storyteller. He seamlessly weaves compelling, and sometimes deeply personal narratives, with engagement of literature and convincing analyses. Bao is a modest, self-aware and honest scholar. He uniquely occupies positions of both insider (Chinese queer man) and outsider (Western-trained academic). As such, he does not eschew normativity completely, knowing that it is impossible given where he stands politically and personally. In being aware of his subjectivity and fallibility as a scholar, he strengthens his analyses and is seen as more credible.

While Bao has written a book that speaks to readers beyond traditional audiences for queer studies, he has not abandoned the approaches that have been so useful in understanding gay identities. Although the book occasionally delves into poststructuralist debates that could confuse some readers, when Bao writes in his distinctively clear voice he reaches most widely, demonstrating well how attention to social construction rather than outward appearance can help us see dynamics others might miss. He highlights, for instance, the important class difference in queer identities that has received less attention than it should – given the Marxist lens through which he views queer China this should not be surprising. The stories told throughout the book are more of continuity than change. He argues, quite convincingly, how constraints on articulations of the “self” under Mao have continued today, with an increasingly ambivalent public conception of the “self” in postsocialist China. Bao does not compartmentalize Chinese queer studies. Rather, he helps us understand the particular histories and contexts that have created an identity that, like any gay identity in any given country, has its idiosyncrasies. This makes the account satisfying for China scholars, and appropriately broad and applicable to those outside China studies.

The book's diverse chapters reveal Bao's ambition, and his ability to deploy a wide range of approaches to answer difficult questions. Each is incredibly rich with empirics and analysis; some (like chapter four) are bursting with material, which can leave readers wanting more space for it to be digested and analysed. While the book holds together well as a single volume, individual chapters could be easily assigned to students, both to learn about particular topics but also the approaches used to understand them. Indeed, in many respects, those who would not typically read a book like this are exactly those who should. It explains complex issues and approaches in a manner that is truly accessible to a wide range of readers. This might be the book's greatest contribution – to expand the knowledge and understanding of queer people in China outside traditional disciplinary and methodological boundaries.