A small-town gay accountant navigates his new reality after moving to Washington, DC, in Myer’s delightful and deliciously readable debut novel. 32-year-old gay accountant Randy Larson has never set foot outside North Dakota. But when his parents die unexpectedly, Randy moves to Washington, DC, to begin a new life. The six-foot, nine-inch, sensational drag queen, Jayne Mansfield, immediately takes him under her wing, teaching him the ways of city life. But is Randy really ready for a new life? Throughout the course of the story, Randy undergoes realistic, engrossing, and meaningful growth as he struggles with making decisions, fosters new relationships, takes unexpected risks, experiences romance, and eventually becomes his own person. He is the main protagonist, but it is Jayne, with his lively energy, irresistible charm, and empathetic nature, who steals the show. Myer’s writing is tremendously joyful, imparting both charm and lightheartedness to the story. The tightly controlled pacing allows readers to become fully invested in the characters’ lives. Veteran readers will see the final twist coming, but the conclusion is still satisfying (and heartwarming). Throughout, Myer explores relevant issues of coming-out, the power of love, familial ties, friendship, and self-discovery. An engaging and deeply entertaining story with a romance that will make fans of gay fiction swoon.

A skittish Midwestern gay man comes out with the help of a Washington, D.C.–based drag performer in Myer’s comic debut novel.

Randy Larson was born in 1986 and spent the first 32 years of his life in North Dakota, attempting to conceal the fact that he was gay from his small-town Lutheran neighbors. After his elderly parents die, one after the other, he decides to honor his mother’s last wish for Randy to move to a place where he can be himself and live a little. After weighing the pros and cons of various cities, he chooses the nation’s capital, as it’s big, but not too big, and, most importantly, not too cold. The move goes easier than expected: He quickly finds a job at the U.S. Department of the Treasury and a serviceable, if overpriced, one-bedroom apartment. Gaining entrance into the city’s gay community isn’t so simple, however, and Randy isn’t sure how to begin. Luckily, he stumbles into a gay bar one night while looking for a steakhouse, and there he meets a towering drag performer and Jayne Mansfield impersonator whom Randy comes to think of as his “fairy godmother.” Jayne is his opposite in nearly every way, and her regimen for Randy’s rebirth may be too much, and too fast, for him. Can Jayne successfully take the North Dakota out of the boy, or is the boy about to run screaming back to his hometown? Myer’s engaging prose effectively captures Randy’s playful insecurity, as when he panics during the opening moments of his first-ever date with a man: “While my brain proceeds with its usual work to undermine confidence, my feet have continued forward. At 7:31, I’m standing at the entrance to Lauriol Plaza. Derek, waiting at the host desk, breaks into a warm smile. At least he recognizes me, so that’s a plus.” Not all the jokes land, but overall, the book is a fun and generally entertaining read about overcoming insecurities and learning to be oneself. It’s also an affecting ode to unexpected friendships and finding communities that one never realized one needed.

A charming and often touching novel of self-discovery.

You can take a boy away from the Midwest, but can you take the Midwest out of the boy by revising his community connections? Sure you can.

LGBTQ audiences and libraries catering to them will find Jayne and the Average North Dakotan a fictional study in intriguing contrasts as middle-aged North Dakotan Randy Larson struggles to find a place in the gay community. He is adopted by flamboyant drag queen Jayne Mansfield, who introduces him to a world both familiar and alien at the same time.

Chandler Myer injects a wry sense of humor into razor-sharp descriptions which add elements of surprise into a tale that begins with a high school swim session:

"A mile-high waterspout agitates the Minot High School indoor swimming pool. I heroically battle the dyspeptic current, spending more energy calling for Mother than implementing any swim training. In my defense, none of the swimming instructors ever mentioned waterspouts, indoor or outdoor, so I looked to my usual comfort source. The razor-sharp concrete deck tears my hand as I pull myself to safety. Intense seasick-ness reverberates through my body. If I could just sleep, this would all pass. A thunderclap startles me to semi-consciousness. “WELL, LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN!”

Is Randy dreaming, or is his past catching up to his present world?

Readers who embark on the rollicking ride Randy experiences will find much to appreciate about the manner in which his transformations are delivered.

For one thing, Myer excels in a wry first-person sense of inspection that captures not just Randy's influences and conservative roots, but the changing culture which uproots him. As much as he fits into this world, he also has long resided outside it—and still does, in many ways.

His education under the wing of a seasoned gay culture veteran (and on his own) results in a sea change of emotion and conflict as Randy learns a new language and different forms of friendship and connection:

“Well, no, I haven’t had experience with women. I’ve never been interested.” His sincerity encourages me to keep talking. “And, if we’re honest, I haven’t had much experience with men, either.”

“That’s too bad. Why not? You’re a cute guy, in my humble opinion.”

I really want to run around like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer yelling, “He said I’m cute! He said I’m cute!” But I realize he’s just being nice. We’re having a conversation like real friends, and I should enjoy that.

There is a saying that "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Randy experiences this as he examines his move to Washington and whether he's doing it solely to recreate the life he had back in Minot. His goal of independence feels shaken by both the support systems and connections he's cultivated, accompanying the question of whether he's really finding himself, or falling into another pattern of dependency and convention (albeit defined in a different manner in a new community).

Is Jayne a fairy godmother, or the devil?

Randy struggles with the well-meaning but dominating Jayne's moves to push him further and faster than he's willing to go (and with developing a meaningful gay romance for the first time in his life). His readers follow him into a milieu which is as astute at examining his patterns of action and reaction as in exploring the gay community's rich undercurrents of sexual and emotional connections.

The result is a story that is unconventional in its depiction of a thirty-something coming-of-age world; in its contrasts between straight and gay experiences; and in vivid characters who each reflect their origins and different perspectives of life, love, and everything in between.

Libraries seeking realistic LGBTQ novels will find Jayne and the Average North Dakotan a study in growth, understanding, and the varied support systems which emerge from an "exploration year" to revise and open a closeted life.