Emily Austin, the bestselling “queen of darkly quirky, endearingly flawed heroines” (Sarah Haywood, author of The Cactus), returns with a luminous new novel following a librarian who comes back to work after a mental breakdown only to confront book-banning crusaders in an empowering story of grief, love, and the power of libraries.

Abortion, mention of eating disorder.

Darcy’s life turned out better than she could have ever imagined. She is a librarian at the local branch, while her wife Joy runs a book binding service. Between the two of them, there is no more room on their shelves with their ample book collections, various knickknacks and bobbles, and dried bouquets. Rounding out their ideal life is two cats and a sun-soaked house by the lake.

But when Darcy receives the news that her ex-boyfriend, Ben, has passed away, she spirals into a pit of guilt and regret, resulting in a mental breakdown and medical leave from the library. When she returns to work, she is met by unrest in her community and protests surrounding intellectual freedom, resulting in a call for book bans and a second look at the branch’s upcoming DEI programs.

Through the support of her community, colleagues, and the personal growth that results from examining her previous relationships, Darcy comes into her own agency and the truest version of herself. Is This a Cry for Help? not only offers a moving portrait of queer life after coming of age but also powerfully explores questions about sexuality, community, and the importance of libraries.


Don't just take our word for it...

“I will read whatever Austin puts in front of me until I’m six feet under.”
— Jean Kyoung Frazier, author of Pizza Girl

“Emily Austin is the patron saint of Sad Girls With Too Many Feelings and masterful at finding and revealing the universal story in an achingly specific situation.”
— Nora McInerny, author of Bad Vibes Only

“Everything Austin writes is swoonworthy, full of lovely humans struggling to find meaning, love, and belonging in a world that’s often too cold.”
– Andrew David MacDonald, author of When We Were Vikings


Taste the very first page

A patron is watching porn out loud. My job at the library requires I walk behind him to verify what kind of porn it is, and if it involves anything illegal, I get to call 911. If it doesn’t, I’m not supposed to do anything.

I walk behind him discreetly. While pretending to adjust a book display about earthworms, I see the film stars three women who appear to be of consenting age. It’s titled Vintage Lesbian Cuckhold, which I find curious. A cuckhold is the husband of an adulterous wife; however, this film has no men cast, and it appears to have been taped on film stock from the 1970s. Same-sex marriage wasn’t legalized anywhere at that time, so these women couldn’t possibly be married. Therefore, it’s impossible for this to be a true “cuckhold” film.

I also doubt, based on the performances, that any of the women are actually lesbians. I’m somewhat of a stickler for categorization. It bothers me when material is mislabeled. I care that things are marked and classified properly.

Several people are milling around the computers. A middle-aged woman. An elderly couple. A small pack of goth teens. Rather than speak directly to the man watching porn, I announce to the room, “Please remember to use headphones, or to mute your devices so you don’t disrupt others. If you need headphones, come see me. I’m happy to lend you a pair.”