— this issue sponsored by —
Advocate Books
The publisher
of Katharine Hepburn: The Untold Story by James Robert Parish
A rigorous examination of the iconic star's enigmatic life revealing the real, sometimes conflicted, frustratingly complicated, and always amazing woman behind the painstakingly self-crafted persona. Includes new revelations about her numerous intimate relationships with women.
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Volume 2 Number 13
By Richard Labonte
My Top 10 Fiction & Top 10 Nonfiction Of The Year
In the last issue of Books To Watch Out For/Gay Men’s Edition, several
dozen writers and editors wrote, glowingly, about their favorite books of 2005
(all read this year, though not all published this year). To make a long story
short (it has to do with a dead hard drive), this issue of BTWOF
was supposed to appear before that one – but while I was waiting for lost
data to be recovered, I went ahead with my year-end issue before the end of the
year…and as a result, a few authors’ recommendations for good reading came in
too late for the last issue, through no fault of their own. That’s why seven more
literate queers write about 18 more books below (58 people recommended more than
120 books in BTWOF/GM 2:12: for the most part, contributors certainly
interpreted the expression “your favorite book” with an enthusiasm that was as
quantitative as it was qualitative!)
My own Top 10 lists in fiction and nonfiction were originally written for
my Book Marks column, which is distributed by Q Syndicate. I’m heartened
by the fact that many of the (gay men’s) books I really liked but that did not
make my list were mentioned – so many books, so few slots – in both the last and
in this installment of BTWOF, among them Sam D’Alessandro’s The Wild
Creatures, edited by Kevin Killian, and Everything I Have is Blue,
edited by Wendell Rickets (both Suspect Thoughts Press); Jay Quinn’s Back Where
He Started (Alyson Books); Dennis Cooper’s God Jr. (Black Cat/Grove)
– I opted for The Sluts; Michael Cunningham’s The Specimen Days
(Farrar, Straus & Giroux); Bart Yates’ The Brothers Bishop (Kensington
Books); Reynolds Price’s The Good Priest’s Son (Scribner); and Kevin Bentley’s
Let’s Shut Out the World (Green Candy Press).
I’m also heartened by the fact that only seven of the books I picked for
my own lists also appeared in the BTWOF selections, either this issue or the last
issue. There are always more than 10 or 20 good books a year, after all! Mine
that overlapped were, in fiction: Choir Boy, by Charlie Anders (Soft Skull);
Lesbian Pulp Fiction, edited by Katherine V. Forrest (Cleis Press); The
Sluts, by Dennis Cooper (Void Books and Carroll & Graf); You Are Not
the One, by Vestal McIntyre; and You Can Say You Knew Me When, by KM
Soehnlein (Kensington Books; and, in nonfiction, The Tricky Part: One
Boy's Fall from Trespass into Grace, by Martin Moran (Beacon Press), and Wild
Girls: Paris, Sappho and Art - The Lives and Loves of Natalie Barney and Romaine
Brooks, by Diana Souhami (St. Martin's Press).
My five other fiction picks of the gay men’s persuasion were Mother of
Sorrows, by Richard McCann (which I’m surprised nobody else mentioned), and
They Change the Subject, by Douglas A. Martin (University of Wisconsin/Terrace
Books); my lesbian favorites were Above the Thunder, by Renee Manfredi
and Clearcut, by Nina Shengold (both from Anchor Books); and The Beautifully
Worthless, by Ali Liebegott (Suspect Thoughts Press).
My eight other nonfiction picks, books by and for both women and men, were:
American Ghosts, by David Plante – another superb book that
I was surprised none of the contributors to the last or this BTWOF mentioned;
February House: The Story of W. H. Auden, Carson McCullers, Jane and Paul Bowles,
Benjamin Britten, and Gypsy Rose Lee, Under One Roof In Wartime America, by
Sherill Tippins (Houghton Mifflin); Gore Vidal’s America, by Dennis Altman
(Polity); Quicksands: A Memoir, by Sybille Bedford (Counterpoint Press);
The Long Arc of Justice: Lesbian and Gay Marriage, Equality, and Rights,
by Richard D. Mohr (Columbia University Press); Luncheonette, by Steven
Sorrentino (Regan Books); My One-night Stand with Cancer, by Tania Katan
(Alyson Books); and Turn the Beat Around: The Secret History of Disco,
by Peter Shapiro (Faber & Faber).
One title that I read too late to include in my own Top 10 – and that, as with
the McCann novel, I’m surprised wasn’t on the BTWOF roundups: Aaron Hamburger’s
Faith for Beginners (Random House), a smart, comic novel with wisdom and
depth, about a mother and her suicide-prone gay son seeking spiritual – and finding
sexual – renewal in the course of a tourist-trap tour of Israel.
This issue also includes two more reviews passed on to BTWOF from
the Lambda Book Report that never was: by Kevin Killian (Still Life
for June, by Darren Greer) and Ricadro L. Ortiz (Dancing with Ghosts,
by Frederick Luis Aldama). In addition, two veteran LBR contributors keep up
with new books: Jim Gladstone waxes personal about Ethan Mordden’s five “Buddies”
novels, and Tom Cardamone considers the personal diaries of a Rice Queen.
Meanwhile, the good news is that plans are for LBR to make a comeback:
see Katherine V. Forrest’s passionate, caring call for support below, and click
on those links she provides, for information on how to make a donation, to
fill out a survey, and to submit nominations for the Lambda Literary Foundation’s
annual Lambda Literary Awards – the deadline is Dec. 31. So do it now…
7 More Authors, 18 More Books: More Favorites of 2005
Robert Glück
Involuntary Lyrics by Aaron Shurin (Omnidawn) - This long awaited book
is Shurin
at his best - fire and ice! "He was swerving/toward me on that road for my
possessing..." This book is a measure of the forms poetry can take, especially
when it speaks about desire.
The Wild Creatures: Collected Stories of Sam D'Allesandro, edited by
Kevin Killian (Suspect Thoughts Press) - I am sure others will report on this
book, but I cannot refrain. Here at last is a collection by the genius cult writer
and new narrative beauty. Sam died in 1988. His death was my greatest loss to
AIDS, because his work was expanding my own (and others’) horizons and he did
not get to write enough of it.
Rumored Place, by Rob Halpern (Krupskaya) - This is one
of the finest books of poetry to come out of the current crop of
young writers in the Bay Area. It is a first book. Its title comes
from a Robert Duncan poem, "This Place, Rumored to be Sodom."
Totally ambitious, the book takes on history itself, not forgetting
to be raunchy when it wants to. Here is my blurb for
the book: Rob Halpern implodes new narrative tenets, collapsing
all views of our condition and the means to express these views
into each sentence at once: learned, aroused, mournful and full
of hope. His book conveys the intolerable crush of the ongoing,
the grand brawl of contending institutions and concepts hectically
alive past their deaths. Meanwhile the self continually gains and
loses ID. The intensity of what is said displays the extent of what
can’t be said. This emptiness travels along with the story in the
future perfect tense, a negative space that has not been, an arcadia
that cannot have been lost, beyond knowing but not beyond needing.
It is also an orifice in the mind or body where the unspeakable
of history might enter and speak.
One of These Things is Not Like the Other, by D. Travers Scott (Suspect
Thoughts Press) - This is a very twisted gorgeous existential mystery page-turner,
a grand novel of possession from beyond the grave. Father may know, but daddy
knows best.
A novel that came out last year but that I just read with great pleasure: Moira
Orfei in Aigues-Mortes, by Wayne Koestenbaum (Soft Skull) - This writing about
a pianist who is decaying (except for his sex life) is so jammed with interesting
pieces of the world and sheer wicked delight that it reminds me of Nabokov and
Firbank combined. The prose is incredible. It made me jelouse.
God Jr., by Dennis Cooper (Grove/Black Cat) - Cooper is one of our masters
and a new book by him is always an event. This year he published two, God Jr.
and The Sluts. With God Jr. he makes a book so quiet it is like
a cobweb. The punch comes later, after you realize that Cooper has invented a
new world of grief and emptiness and drawn you very far into it with a whisper.
(Robert is the author of several books, most recently Denny Smith: Stories,
and coeditor of Biting the Error: Writers Explore Narrative.)
Thorn Kief Hillsbery
Holy Skirts, by René Steinke (William Morrow); Baroness Elsa: Gender,
Dada, and Everyday Modernity, by Irene Gammel (MIT Press); I Got Lusting
Palate, by Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (Edition Ebersbach Berlin).
Lover of men and beguiler of women, mother of Dada before Dada was born,
Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven's life and art declared war to end all war on post-Victorian
gender codes. Her erotically charged poetry, championed by Pound and published
by Hemingway, aroused even greater indignation than that of her more celebrated
contemporary in smut mongering, James Joyce. These three fascinating volumes give
us "The Baroness" in all her quirky, luminous glory: striding the sidewalks
of Manhattan in tomato-can brassiere, composing paeans to fellatio, posing for
Man Ray's camera while Marcel Duchamp shaves her pubic hair. Holy Skirts
is an artful biographical "imagining" by a novelist, Baroness Elsa
is a factual cultural treatise by a scholar who must have skipped class the day tedium
was taught as the foundation of academic writing, and I Got Lusting Palate
is the Baroness in her own inimitable words, all of which live up to the promise
of the four in the title.
(Thorn is author of What We Do Is Secret and War Boy.)
Patrick Merla
Thanks so much for giving me this opportunity. My two favorite
books of 2005 were both first novels published by Carroll &
Graf, whose new line of gay titles is welcome indeed, no thanks
to David Leavitt and the New York Times. They are:
The First Verse, by Barry McCrae - About a group of
people, one of them a first-year student at Trinity College, Dublin,
who literally
live by words. At once a penetrating psychological study, a totally
convincing fantasy, and a compelling mystery-thriller, in which,
like a reverse Donnie Darko, the reality of the story may
all hinge on a revelatory moment near the end (in this case a
seemingly throwaway statement). Utterly riveting; it ate up three
days of my life and left me wanting to ask the author how much
of it was actually true. The ultimate “literary” novel, this book
should be on every responsible periodical’s “ten best” list -
from the New York Times to Out and the Advocate
(none of which even bothered to acknowledge its existence by reviewing
it).
Acqua Calda, by Keith McDermott - Another important
first novel mostly overlooked by gay and straight media alike.
About a group of American and European actors working in Sicily
on an avant-garde theater production by a egomaniacal Robert Wilson-like
genius auteur, as told by a true insider who knows whereof he
speaks. McDermott, perhaps best known for appearing as the boy
in Equus, opposite Richard Burton on Broadway in 1975,
turns out to be a splendid writer with a unique sensibility. His
tale of an actor who believes himself to be dying finding renewal
and the will to live in the unlikeliest setting is at once entertaining,
funny, captivating, and moving.
(Patrick, a mentor to many gay authors, is editor of Boys
Like Us: Gay Writers Tell Their Coming Out Stories.)
Tim Miller
As long as Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking (Knopf) is being
mentioned elsewhere* (I found it amazing; but she is maybe my favorite
writer since high school), I’ll go with The March, by E.L. Doctorow (Random
House). Alright, I admit it: I’m a giant Civil War queen! (If there were gay sex
clubs with Civil War costumes, I would be there in a flash.) With that in mind,
I was blown away by Doctorow's new novel, The March, about General Sherman's
march through the South during the Civil War. This book is Doctorow's best, an
amazing exploration of how race and gender narratives are transformed by the march
thru Georgia and the Carolinas. The book is a soulful and poetic examination
of how war changes human lives.
(*Kirk Read, Blair Mastbaum, and Troy Soriano
cited it in the last issue.)
(Tim is a hard-touring performance artist and teacher; some of his pieces
are collected in Body Blows: Six Performances.)
Sandip Roy
The Harmony Silk Factory, by Tash Aw (Riverhead) - though the favorite
book I read in 2005 (though it was published in 2004) was Maps for Lost Lovers,
by Nadeem Aslam (Gardner’s Books). Alas, none are queer per se…
(Sandip is editor of Trikone Magazine: http://www.trikone.org.)
Lawrence Schimel
My favorite books of 2005 are probably chosen for nostalgia, since they involve
a return to beloved characters from previous years, in particular a new installment
in Alison Bechdel's comic serial, Invasion of the Dykes To Watch Out For,
and James Howe's Totally Joe, devoting an entire book now to the gay character
from his spectacular middle grade novel, The Misfits.
(Lawrence has edited dozens of books, published several story collections,
contributed to hundreds of anthologies, and written several Spanish-language books
for children.)
Mark Simon
Was there ever a queerer, more deeply felt story than The Little
Mermaid? Hans Christian Andersen never wrote more biographically about
desire. Just published in paperback by Duke University Press, The Stories of
Hans Christian Andersen is a standout book for me this year. The cover's an
appropriate shade of lavender; the translation's a knockout. Diana Crone Frank
and Jeffery Frank capture Andersen's wit and ground breaking chatty narrative
voice. There's not a hint of the Victorian nursery here. Twenty-two stories from
Andersen's A-list, fresher than ever and gorgeous as always in this translation.
Andersen himself does not fare as well in the Franks’ biographical introduction:
"Since 1901 researchers have conducted a somewhat tedious debate about whether
Andersen was gay." The Franks are tediously dismissive on the subject. Happily,
inevitably I would say, homosexuality comes up as footnote for The Little Mermaid,
so the Franks are not always dismissive. Even better, they give nice credit to
Jackie Wullschlager's magnificent 2000 biography of Andersen, which does correctly
figure Andersen's un-debatable homosexuality as a central part of his life and
creativity. After reading The Stories you might want to read Jackie Wullschlager's
biography, Hans Christian Andersen: The Life of a Storyteller.
(Mark is the book-buyer for Samuel French Theatre and Film Book Store in
Hollywood, and before that bought for A Different Light for many years.)

Writer to Writer: From Katherine V. Forrest
(Katherine, a lesbian authorial icon, and legend, and friend, sent this
appeal for support for the reorganized Lambda Literary Foundation in early December;
I’ve reprinted it here so that it will find as many supportive eyes as possible
– RL)
You are my colleagues, and my peers. I need your help.
A lot has changed in our literary world and we've suffered many losses. Our
Lambda Literary Foundation is continuing. We have seventeen years of continuity
during which the Lambda Literary Award has become by far our most visible and
most important literary award. Right now we are planning next year's ceremonies
when we will again celebrate books that belong with the major literature of this
nation.
Six months of suspended publication of the Lambda Book Report proves
that we need it, and beyond that we need a publication that we can proudly call
our trade journal. We are in the planning phase of making LBR into the
reformatted, redesigned, re-imagined, high quality publication it can and should
be.
We have a new executive director, Charles Flowers, who has vision and energy,
a superb industry background and reputation, and the personal qualities required
to represent us with distinction, and to take us into a new era. We need
to support him. This is the one time when none of us can rely on someone else
to make this happen. We as individuals have to do this - to whatever extent we
possibly can.
Michael Nava has given us a kick-off donation of one thousand dollars. If you
are receiving this message on email, then you have Internet access and that means
making a donation is as easy as filling out a form. Whether you donate online
or send us a check, whatever you give will matter, will make a real difference,
and be greatly appreciated.
One more item. The best way to make the new Lambda Book Report into
the best journal it can be is to have our best writers writing for it - and for
the foundation to be able to pay those writers. Start planning right now to be
in its pages, to review books or write a piece for LBR. If you have an
idea for an article, a book you'd like to review, or any other items for a new
LBR, please contact Charles at asklambda@earthlink.net. He'll appreciate
your candor and enthusiasm.
This is our foundation. It is our best opportunity to help find, develop
and support emerging LGBTQ voices. It is our best opportunity to bequeath a lasting
legacy. Let's all get behind it.
I wish you and your family a happy and peaceful holiday season.
-Katherine
To donate online: http://lambdaliterary.org
To donate by mail:
The Lambda Literary Foundation
P. O. Box 1957, Old Chelsea Station
New York, New York 10113

A Monumental Romance, Shamefully Under The Gaydar
a review by Jim Gladstone
How’s
Your Romance?, by Ethan Mordden (St. Martin’s Press, $23.95) - The pleasant
surprise when I walked into Giovanni’s Room, my local queer bookstore, on a Saturday
afternoon a couple of months ago, was the arrival of How’s Your Romance?,
a new volume of Ethan Mordden’s remarkable autobiographical linked story collections.
The unpleasant surprise was that the book’s arrival was, in fact, completely unexpected.
As an avid follower of gay men’s fiction, I remain rather stunned that this fifth
– and, per its subtitle (“Concluding the ‘Buddies’ Cycle”) – final book in this
seminal series has been published to so little buzz or marketing fanfare. It’s
shamefully under the gaydar. Since the series’ first volume, I’ve A Feeling
We’re Not In Kansas Anymore, was published 21 years ago, Mordden – perhaps
better known for his other series, a decade-by-decade history of the Broadway
musical – has crafted a portrait of a gay Manhattan community that, in its accumulated
two decades of intimate glimpses, has coalesced into something truly monumental.
In the first three books - Kansas (1985), Buddies (1986),
and Everybody Loves You (1988) – Mordden etched the Greenwich Village lives
of writer-narrator Bud (Mordden’s own real-life nickname), his upstairs neighbor,
school-teacher Dennis Savage and their circle of village people friends – superstuds,
drag queens, boy toys, leather men, porn stars – with such finely observed humor and
precise emotional detail that readers were able to feel the richness between their
proudly stereotypical surfaces. Over the course of this initial troika, Mordden
made a case for a willfully ghettoized society that he deemed Stonewall – a tight-knit,
all-male world that celebrated its differences from ‘mainstream’ society and provided
its own self-sufficient eco-system of empathy for all who wanted to join. By the
time the stories –which reach back to the late 1970s - began to cover life in
the mid-80s, they were tinged with the shadow of AIDS and the ever more complex
relationships between Bud, Dennis, and their significantly younger boyfriends.
After a nine-year absence, the men of Stonewall returned in 1997 with what,
to this aficionado, is the series most accomplished, honest, and wrenching book,
Some Men Are Lookers. In that collection, not only have the characters
aged nearly a decade – leading to redefined relationships and a degree of personal
development not possible in the chronologically clustered observational stories
of the first three volumes – but the whole separatist gay utopian ideal of Mordden’s
Stonewall has begun to feel older, almost quaintly anachronistic on the cusp of
the metrosexual 2000s. Like the community bookstores in which the Buddies
series has primarily been sold, the Buddies series had begun to evince
an ache of painful nostalgia; having achieved a certain sense of pride – even
triumph – the characters were faced with a hovering question: Now that the
world has evolved, how will we do the same?
The stories in these books have a tremendous cumulative power, they’re pointillist
dots that form a masterpiece in aggregate. While How’s Your Romance? is
perhaps not as strong a collection as its predecessors, it provides a necessary
coda, seeming to suggest a generational torch passing, in both life and literature.
The new book’s most energetic stories focus not on Bud and company, but on Bud’s
interactions with the twenty-something cohort of his young Chelsea Boy cousin,
Ken. In remarking on the interplay of Ken and company – gym-buffed, entrepreneurial,
and at the center (rather than the margin) of the New York lifestyle, Mordden
seems to be acknowledging the rise of a new sort of gay community, a descendant
of Stonewall, in which his own role is that of wise elder rather than leading
man. He is now more of an expert on the past than on the present, more an emeritus
anthropologist than a true participant-observer. With any luck, some as-yet unknown
Chelsea Boy scribe will take up the Mordden mantle and reveal the depth and nuance
beneath a new era of stereotypes. For now though, do yourself a favor and read
all five of the books in this series if you haven’t already. In addition to reveling
in his brilliant social observation and anecdotal skills, you’ll discover that
Mordden is one of the most singular prose stylists of the past couple decades,
all sharp detail, snappy theoretical riff, and quick-clipped dialogue. As I mentioned
up front, the publication of How’s Your Romance? is the conclusion of a
monumental project. Do drop by and pay tribute to our past.
(Jim Gladstone is author of The Big Book of Misunderstanding and
of Gladstone’s Games to Go)
Developing A Taste For Mordden's Bittersweet Comic Tales
(A few years ago, Jim Gladstone was asked to preface an InsightOut Book Club
special edition of what was then merely Mordden’s “Buddies Trilogy,” I’ve a
Feeling We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Buddies, Everybody Loves You
– later a quartet, and this year, two decades later, a quinary. Here’s that preface,
with the hope it will spur newcomers to the Buddies oeuvre to go back to
the beginning -RL)
Scotch.
Kumquats. Asparagus.
These are the sorts of things I’d always assumed made up that shady realm commonly
referred to as “acquired taste.” It’s stuff that makes most kids spit, but makes
lots of adults feel tingly and speak rhapsodically. Many of these adults, of course,
are themselves the expectorating tykes of yore.
I’d always thought this whole acquired taste business was pretty strictly
a food thing. Well, food and New Yorker cartoons.
Then I discovered Ethan Mordden’s Buddies books. Or, to be more accurate,
rediscovered.
In 1997, an editor asked me to review Some Men Are Lookers, Mordden’s
decade-later return to the characters he created in his original threesome of
Buddies volumes: I’ve A Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore (1985),
Buddies (1986), and Everybody Loves You (1988). When I first encountered
these bittersweet comic tales of life in Manhattan’s gay ghetto, I was mightily
put off by their portrayals of free-range sex, gender role-play, and oddly structured
relationships. In taking on the new book for review, I promised myself I would
do the requisite homework. I knew that just like that time I was assigned the
sequel to a novel about Jesuit missionaries in outer space, I was going to have
to bite the bullet and go back to the originals. And to me, reading the Buddies
books was even more daunting than a double-dose of Vatican-sponsored adventures
on the planet Rakhat.
Almost ten years earlier, I was a stumbly newcomer to all things gay, living
in an underwear- and beer can-strewn off-campus apartment at the University of
Pennsylvania (whose alumni, unbeknownst to me, included one Ethan Mordden). Alongside
the futon, plopped amidst the boxer briefs and empty Buds, were the Buddies
books. They were not mine. They belonged to my first boyfriend, a gay prideful
caterer and fine disco dancer who, in the spirit of Mordden’s own true-identity-blurring
character nicknames, will here be known as Boy Perky.
I didn’t allow myself to really absorb the content of Boy Perky’s original
editions of the Buddies books. I would flip them open now and again and
find myself discomforted from the very first story, “Interview with the Drag Queen,”
in which “Miss Titania soothed Carl’s hole with her tongue and slowly worked it
open.”
Ohmigod and please pass the J.D. Salinger!
“It sounds fun,” said Boy Perky, who, I imagined, wore rainbow flag Pampers
as a toddler. “Let’s try it. Or at least rent a video of it!”
I would sheepishly turn the trilogy’s pages, made uneasy by Mordden’s clever
references to sex in the Fire Island dunes, nights at the opera, cruising on Christopher
Street, 1940s movie trivia.
I don’t want these cliches to be my life, I grumbled.
“Have you seen Miss Cranky?” called Boy Perky. This was his nickname for
the fleshy pink dildo he’d coaxed me into buying him as a Valentine’s gift.
In retrospect, I think that while Boy Perky comfortably bought into gay
stereotypes, I needed to grow into them. As a newly out 20-year-old, my
own taste in gay literature leaned toward coming-out stories; I wanted to read
about guys my own age seeing the world crack open for the first time, gaining
their first shaky footing on promising new terrain. But I didn’t want the books
to go much further than that. I didn’t want an instruction manual on how to proceed
as a gay man. I was armed with the necessary arrogance of youth: I wanted to invent
my own life, in some completely original way.
Not to mention, I was scared. The world of Ethan Mordden’s Buddies
trilogy is largely a world before AIDS. By the end of the third volume, Everybody
Loves You, some shadow is beginning to fall, but for the most part, Mordden’s
milieu in these stories is, epidemiologically speaking, ancient history. When
I was coming out in the mid-1980s, I felt a real impulse to run away from the
first post-Stonewall generation. I’ll now admit, with both embarrassment and contrition,
that I somehow linked Mordden’s characters, along with their symbols and styles,
with a disease. And so I shut the books on them.
After graduation, Boy Perky and I went our separate ways. I soon learned
that he had taken off to explore Europe with a man twenty years our senior. The
very thought of it frightened me.
I stayed home and read.
From my earlier interest in coming-out stories, my taste in gay literature
moved on to contemporary work that addressed AIDS head-on, books like John Weir’s
The Irreversible Decline of Eddie Socket, Alan Barnett’s The Body &
Its Dangers, and David Feinberg’s laceratingly funny Eighty-Sixed.
Next came an ongoing interest in domestic and social dramas in which contemporary
gay men and lesbians do not exist in self-selected or demonized subcultures, but
struggle to integrate themselves in the heterogeneous world at large, including
the works of David Leavitt, Michael Cunningham, and Doug Sadownick’s dazzling
Sacred Lips of the Bronx. For years, my reading was all about what’s now,
and what’s next. I never looked back.
Here’s the thing about acquired taste. You really do grow
into it. A kid doesn’t acquire a liking for asparagus by being force-fed
a spear or two every day. With some trepidation, he decides to take another nibble
years later and is taken aback to find that he enjoys the complex flavor.
When it comes to food, it turns out that the notion of
acquired taste is backed by science. Kids’ taste buds have different sensitivities
to chemicals than adults’ do. It’s about immaturity. Things really do change as
we get older. And if we’re brave enough to go back and try something again, years
after we first spat it out, we are sometimes amazed at the new pleasure we find.
When my editor assigned me to write about Some Men Are Lookers in
1997, I finally sat back down with its three predecessors and, to my surprise,
found them quite delicious. With ten years in the gay world under my belt, I found
the sexy, bitchy surfaces of these stories much less threatening (and I recognized
how expertly styled they are, with dialogue as pitch-perfect as you’ll find anywhere).
Through my experiences both in reading and in living, I’d also developed
an ability to see beyond these surfaces to recognize the heart of Mordden's work,
a fiercely intelligent and unsentimentally poignant comprehension of gay psyches.
He illuminates our need for deep friendships that might include, but must transcend,
sex. He limns our desires both to form newfangled families, and to find points
of reconciliation with our old-fashioned families.
Yes, the original trilogy’s stories happen to be set amidst the celebratory,
in-your-face gay scene of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. But when I reacquainted
myself with the tales’ four central characters - writer Bud, schoolteacher Dennis,
and their younger companions, Little Kiwi and Cosgrove - in the more circumspect
mid-90s Manhattan of Some Men Are Lookers, it became clear to me that what
Ethan Mordden has to tell us about timeless human yearnings transcends the relevance
of the particular historical moment in which each tale happens to be set.
Reading these books, and exploring the continuity
of these richly drawn characters, from the exuberance of the post-Stonewall moment
to the ambiguity of the AZT era, can help provide a bracing literary antidote
to one of the biggest ongoing problems within the gay community, the generational
rift that spun out of AIDS.
Just out of college, I was terribly quick to assume
that Boy Perky had no reason to be spending time with a man who was gay before
there was AIDS. They were different species, weren’t they?
If you came of age in the ‘80s or beyond, read the
Buddies trilogy with an open heart and an open mind. Don’t think of it
as nostalgia. When you recognize yourself (well, a wittier version of yourself)
in Ethan Mordden’s tenderly drawn characters, you’ll feel reconnected to a body
of literature and a generation of men that deserve our attention, and our affection.
Perhaps, as I did, you’ll learn that a work of fiction can be an acquired taste,
and that, through the prism of reading, you can see your way to becoming a more
mature person.
(And, rounding out the Mordden overview: “While AIDS is present in these
stories, it is aging that provides the greatest moments of poignancy,” Gladstone
wrote in a short 1997 review of the fourth book in Mordden’s series, Some Men
Are Lookers): http://www.nytimes.com/books/97/08/31/ bib/970831.rv122840.html
Race-Based Desire: One Guy's Un-Sanitized Reflections
a review by Tom Cardamone
The Rice Queen Diaries: A Memoir, by Daniel
Gawthrop (Arsenal Pulp Press, $16.95) - This is a “diary” with footnotes. Reflections
footnoted are thoughts reformed, scrubbed to perfection before being presented.
So The Rice Queen Diaries offers readers an exploration of sexual attraction
and self-discovery, but without the accidental honesty, the fragmentary nature
of a true, real-time diary, those messy shards of broken glass that refract instead
of reflect, offering abstractions that lure the reader (and more importantly the
diarist) closer to the truth than any polished mirror. But the desire here is
race-based, a topic as challenging as it is intriguing, one rarely reviewed in
gay culture, and when it is, often sanitized through academia. So even if caution
is the only approach available, this is still a book of participation. The
author’s erotic explorations are loaded with subconscious colonial ambition; it’s
hard not to imagine him, pith helmet atilt, typing away about trysts with young
Asian men. But that’s only a surface reading -t his is a determinedly self-conscious
sex-tour. If he does indeed wear that hat it’s a purposeful dunce cap. Daniel
Gawthrop isn’t looking forward, toward the next sweaty escapade, in his book,
but backwards, seriously seeking out what ignited this delirious dive, sent him
tumbling until, submerged in a jungle-like bathhouse world of active stereotypes,
his cute “houseboy” bites the hand that feeds, literally. Nothing ruins a vacation
so much as the sight of your own blood.
This is a ten-year survey of obsession, from the
emerging sexuality of a Vancouver boyhood to full-blown racial cruising in Toronto.
As his preference for Asian men takes hold, Gawthrop notices that certain automatic
boundaries and assumptions apply to relationships between gay Caucasian and gay
Asian men. As this psychological arena crystallizes, he has love affairs in and
with Thailand; he moves there after his first visit. Though the various sexual
sub-and-not-so-sub-cultures of Thailand are relatively well known, Gawthrop expounds
on them with a definitive amount of new insight. Plus his chapter on Vietnam is
a marvelous bit of actual reporting – it’s unlikely you’ll read elsewhere of cruising
beneath Communist flags at a swimming pool in Ho Chi Minh City.
Well-turned prose and a breezy attitude toward sex
makes this book a quick read, almost too quick; rather matter-of-fact observations
deserve closer attention, specifically the fetishistic treatment of his lovers.
Too many lithe brown fingers mystically caress, too many rose-petal lips purse
throughout that, even if stereotypes are recognized and condemned under the rubric
of socio-economic injustice, I can’t help but wonder if friendship and love forged
with the total recognition of such exploitation might not just be a more canny
type of exploitation.
Then again, what discussion of race isn’t a total
minefield? Well, this one is a minefield laced with footnotes. And I found them
a wee bit defensive, a way to fortify an observation with someone else’s authoritative-sounding
opinion. Quotes from Asian sources are offered as well, which makes even better
mortar. In fact, I think I’ll do the same thing. I’d like to amend this review
by calling for a second opinion as well. Someone from Thailand, please. Let’s
hear the voice behind the smile oft described in The Rice Queen Diaries.
It might offer praise, condemnation or added insight. Though who knows, we might
just hear one long, frustrated scream.
'Icy Perfection Coalescing': Darren Greer's U.S. Debut
a review by Kevin Killian
Still Life with June, by Darren Greer (St. Martins Griffin, $13.95)
- In Still Life with June, the U.S. debut of Canadian novelist Darren Greer,
many narratives coalesce into a vision of darkness with the icy perfection of
a snowflake. Cameron Dodds ekes out a grim living in a Canadian city that might
be Toronto or Ottawa. He’s thirty years old, the age when many young writers decide
that since they have not yet published a novel, they’re losers. He attends meetings
of a writers group in a local chain bookstore that serves free coffee, but he
does little in the group save refuse, like Bartleby, to comment on the work of
his fellow losers. One member of the group, a published novelist called Dagnia
Daley, rules the roost and hates him.
To pay the rent for himself and his adorable cat, Juxta (short for “Juxtaposition”),
Cameron staffs a drug treatment center he calls the “Cocaine Corral.” This job
puts him on an intimate basis with many ex-cons whose back-stories he steals and
publishes under a variety of pseudonyms, including Darren Greer (the same name,
you’ll notice, as the author of the novel under review). It was around this page
that I started getting a wee bit of a headache, as the story launched into a postmodern
meditation on the nature of identity and the misery of everyday life. “I can forgive
God His cruelty,” Cameron fumes. “I can forgive God His indifference. But what
I cannot forgive God is His silence.” An out gay man, Cameron’s half in love with
one big lug who’s killed eleven people. “Iroquois Pete” is the only one he knows,
or so it seems to Cameron, who speaks the truth about human existence and who
doesn’t take shit from anyone.
The story properly begins when Cameron, who has written a series of articles
for a Village Voice-like city tabloid on urban espionage, is asked by the
successful novelist Dagnia Daley to report on his upstairs neighbor, a concert
pianist called Dean. For a weekly fee, Cameron agrees to sift through Dean’s garbage
and in general to find out what he’s up to, who he’s seeing, if he’s taking his
pills (he is her ex, Dagnia explains, so shiftily you know she’s lying.)
In another plotline, one of Cameron’s clients commits suicide, leaving behind
a severely disabled sister, the roly-poly June. Cameron decides, in a snap move
provoked as much by existential ennui as by any other reason, to pretend to be
Darrel Greene so he can visit June often in her city ward. (Again, we are shown
how similar the name “Darrel Greene” is to his pseudonym/real name “Darren Greer.”
The unself-conscious “retard” June brings love and laughter into his life, as
he takes her to the park to play, brings her to the Modern Art Museum where she
loves the Warhol soup cans and the messy Pollock drip paintings. He also has the
satisfaction of knowing he’s doing something good on the one hand, even as his
pursuit of the upstairs neighbor leads him into ethical waters both murky and
kind of erotic.
I hope to avoid spoilers but let me say that few in the novel are who they
pretend to be. Everyone’s got a bleak secret, often concerned with horrid Canadian
childhoods and the feeling of being a loser. I had a few reservations about Greer’s
writing. Cameron tells the same jokes over and over again. Like many of us, he
is intrigued by the way “pianist” sounds like “penis,” and he uses the phrase
“the penis” to describe his upstairs neighbor - first time around it was sort
of cute, but after twenty-five times I was so over that. Nevertheless, he’s big-hearted,
like a Tom Spanbauer hero, and even though he’s been hurt he still wants to help
others. The complexity of Greer’s characters elicits our admiration and the shell
game he plays with who’s who and why will leave you dizzy, bewildered, and anxious
to see what sort of book he produces for us next. Still Life with June
is one of those novels that grabs you by the throat and tells you that despite
everything, life is worth living. “When you give someone something,” muses Cameron,
“even if that something is a lie, even if that someone wouldn’t know the difference
between a Radio City Music Hall chorus girl and Geraldo Rivera, you’ve given the
world just a little bit more hope with which to fight its next crop of bad guy
stuff.”
(Kevin Killian lives in San Francisco. He’s the author of two novels, Shy
and Arctic Summer, as well as many other books including his latest, Island
of Lost Souls, a memory play)
Author info: www.darrengreer.com
'Confessions Of A Brown Angel': A Quietly Remarkable Life
a review by Ricardo L. Ortíz
Dancing With Ghosts: A Critical Biography of Arturo Islas, by Frederick
Luis Aldama (University of California Press, $19.95)
The gay Chicano educator and writer Arturo Islas died of AIDS-related illness
in 1991; he was only 52 years old. In his lifetime he witnessed the publication
of only two of his three finished novels, and of none of a sizeable collection
of shorter works in prose and verse. Those two published novels (The Rain God,
1984, and Migrant Souls, 1990) gave Islas a brief taste of mostly critical
success, which had cruelly eluded him in the decade preceding their eventual appearance.
The years following his death saw the publication of a third novel (La Mollie
and the King of Tears, 1996), and finally (in 2003) of a volume of his Uncollected
Works, edited by the emerging Islas scholar Frederick Luis Aldama.
Aldama has now followed the 2003 collection with Dancing With Ghosts,
a “critical biography” that undertakes the dual task of (first) telling Islas’s
life-story and (second) telling it in relation to the already strongly autobiographical
elements of both Islas’s fiction and poetry. Aldama derives his information from
a variety of sources, including interviews with many people (family members, friends,
colleagues and students who knew Islas during his life), but primarily from the
enormous store of Islas’s personal and professional papers which reside in the
Special Collections department of the main library at Stanford University, where
Islas earned all his academic degrees, and where he taught, with considerable
success, for almost the entirety of his professional life.
The fact that almost all of Islas’s creative work is so directly autobiographical
(and confessional) poses the chief critical opportunity, as well as the chief
critical challenge, to the biographer. On the one hand, part of the strong fascination
of Islas’s best fictional work can be attributed to the brilliance and the artfulness
with which Islas himself transforms his life-experiences into the stuff of highly
stylized “literary” fiction; Aldama’s work in this respect satisfies most as it
confirms (especially for those of us who are already fans of Islas) how closely
in fact his two most seductive pieces (The Rain God and Migrant Souls,
comprising together the “Angel family saga” and based quite directly on the “saga”
of his own) adhere to both the contours and the arc of Islas’s quietly, sadly
remarkable life. On the other, that very resemblance of such fine existing work
to the life that the biographer needs to retell in order to both confirm and complete
its predecessor, certainly obligates in the biographer an acute awareness of the
very high (especially aesthetic) standard to which his own written account of
the same life might potentially be held.
Aldama chooses, rightly, to exempt himself from such an unfair, and arguably
inappropriate, comparison. More useful than graceful, Aldama’s biography succeeds
nevertheless, and as he intends, as an impressive synthesis of criticism and scholarship;
it sets valuable groundwork for future scholarship, which is now not only inevitable,
but indeed even possible, thanks exclusively to the information about, and the
insights into, Islas’s life and work that Aldama makes newly available in this
volume. Dancing With Ghosts clearly stands in both complementary and supplementary
relation to all the creative work whose course of production it recounts; Islas’s
personal life, from his modest beginnings in Depression-era El Paso, Texas, through
his conflicted negotiations of and eventual reconciliation with his family’s traditional
(and homophobic) Chicano culture, to his equally ambivalent grappling with the
privileged and often threatening aspects of the cultural elitism he encountered
across his four decades at Stanford, to his life-long battles with serious illness
(polio in the ‘40s, ulcerative - and near-fatal - colitis in the ‘60s, HIV and
AIDS in the ‘80s and ‘90s), to his coming to a difficult and hard-won sexual self-realization
as a gay man of color from the 1960s on, can now finally appear to the reader,
thanks to Aldama, more completely than it could in the characteristically fragmented,
understated and suggestive form it most often took in Islas’s major fiction.
The critical and scholarly strengths of Dancing With Ghosts should
by no means, however, preclude future writers from consulting Islas’s archive
for additional and alternative ways to read Islas and his work; for all its success
at achieving its stated goals, Dancing With Ghosts is by no means exhaustive
of its chief subject. The Islas who most powerfully emerges for the first time
in this volume is actually Islas the cultural and intellectual activist, in the
period extending from the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s to the late-‘80s
“culture wars,” the one who found himself strategically positioned to help transform
the way that the most privileged institutions in US higher education went about
the work of teaching culture to their students; Islas was pivotal, in ways that
we can only now fully appreciate, in ensuring that the paragon of human excellence
and achievement that we in this country identify with artistic genius could no
longer be assumed to be male, or white, or straight, or privileged by class. The
Islas who emerges in Aldama’s book just enough to suggest that he needs more attention
is the Islas who over three decades of teaching wrote out, word-for-word, every
lecture he ever delivered on a literary topic; one can only hope that some future
scholar will compile and publish that material, if only to help those of us who
care determine more fully how Islas understood his own work in relation to the
vast body of literary material (American, Latin American, global) he admired enough
to teach.
For now, thankfully, we can learn much from Aldama, both about who Islas
really was, and who else we might still discover him to have been.
(Ricardo L. Ortiz is an Assistant Professor in the Department of
English at Georgetown University; his book project, Diaspora
and Disappearance: Cultural and Political Erotics in Cuban America, will be
published by the University of Minnesota Press in late 2006)
Introduction to the book:
http://www.ucpress.edu/books/pages/9580/9580.intro.html
Two Writers Who Blog, From Abroad: Hamburger & James
Aaron Hamburger, whose second book (after the story collection The View from
Stalin’s Head) is the fine novel, Faith for Beginners, is a few months
into his one-year residency at the American Academy in Rome – and about halfway
through his second novel. His blog entries aren’t frequent, but they are generous.
From the Nov. 1 entry: a bit about his interregnum back in the US for a book tour:
“What is the point of a book tour? I'm convinced it's more than the event itself.
It's an opportunity to turn the publication of the book, which is really no more
than opening a box and putting copies on shelves, into a happening worth marking
by local bookstores, media, and readers. Your book gets placed in a prominent
position in the store a week beforehand. Your reading gets listed in local newspapers.
You sometimes do interviews. You shake hands with booksellers and audience members,
several of whom (to my great delight) had read my first book and had eagerly been
awaiting my new one.
Then there are the unforeseen wonderful small moments you never expected.
I heard from friends of mine I hadn't heard from in years, including two men who
came out to me for the first time. In Atlanta, I met a gay man who'd just escaped
to the big city from the small town where he'd felt trapped for years and was
enjoying his new life of freedom. In Washington, I was met at the airport by a
"media escort," which is a person who makes a living by picking up authors
in town for book signings and taking them around the city for the day. My media
escort turned out to be a smart, insightful social worker with whom I shared a
thoughtful conversation about religion and the role of faith in progressive politics.
In L.A., I was adopted for the weekend by the synagogue Beth Chayim Chadashim,
where I was treated like a rock star.”
Life back in Rome: http://aaronhamburger.com/blog.html
Callum James is a book collector, book dealer, and writer (recent stories in
Men & Ink and The Best of Both Worlds, and perhaps in the forthcoming
anthology Inside Him) living in Portsmouth, on the South Coast of the UK.
He peppers his blog with cogent thoughts on books and their charms.
In his Dec. 6 entry, he laments an unattainable object of desire:
“It's just one of those things I suppose. I'm forever seeing things on eBay
that I would dearly love to have but know I won't be able to compete for. But
today I found perhaps the greatest 'object of desire' I've ever come across. The
typed manuscript of the SRD novel, Neveronya. Nothing I can do about it, it's
bound to soar through the roof and frankly, I couldn't really afford the starting
price at the moment. Sigh...”
In a Dec. 3 entry, he praises the poetry of Richard Siken: “One of the
most beautiful books of poetry I've read in a long time in a darkly sour kind
of way…”
And his Nov. 25 entry praises two books. The first is Luke Sutherland’s
Venus as a Boy: “A young man grows up on South Ronaldsay in Orkney suffering
bullying and abuse. He slowly becomes aware of his singular gift, which is to
give people the kind of sexual experience that makes them see angels. He embarks
upon a journey to the mainland and through Scotland ending up in London working
as a hustler.” The second (and, sort of, third) book he writes about is Gilbert
Adair’s 1988 novel The Holy Innocents, which was rewritten by the author
from the screenplay based on it for the Bertolucci film Les Innocents,
and republished in 2003 as The Dreamers. James prefers the original.
And bits of his fiction appear on another blog:
http://silverbirchjunction.blogspot.com/

'Heartbreaking' Letters, Queer Books Back in Chelsea
On the eve of the premier of Brokeback Mountain in Jackson Mountain, Wyoming,
Matthew Testa talked to Annie Proulx: “Excuse me, but it is not a story
about "two cowboys." It is a story about two inarticulate, confused
Wyoming ranch kids in 1963 who have left home and who find themselves in a personal
sexual situation they did not expect, understand, nor can manage. The only work
they find is herding sheep for a summer - some cowboys! Yet both
are beguiled by the cowboy myth, as are most people who live in the state, and
Ennis tries to be one but never gets beyond ranch-hand work; Jack settles on rodeo
as an expression of the Western ideal. It more or less works for him until he
becomes a tractor salesman. Their relationship endures for 20 years, never resolved,
never faced up to, always haunted by fear and confusion. How different readers
take the story is a reflection of their own personal values, attitudes, hang-ups.
It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader
finishes it through his or her life experience, prejudices, worldview and thoughts.
Far from being "liberal," Hollywood was afraid of the script, as were
many actors and agents. Of course I knew the story would be seen as controversial.
I doubted it would even be published, and was pleased when The New Yorker
very quickly accepted it. In the years since the story was published in 1997 I
have received many letters from gay and straight men, not a few Wyoming-born.
Some said, "You told my story," some said, "That is why I left
Wyoming," and a number, from fathers, said, "Now I understand the hell
my son went through." I still get these heart breaking letters…”
http://www.planetjh.com/testa_2005_12_07_proulx.html
David Leavitt asks: “Is Brokeback Mountain, as it's been touted,
Hollywood's first gay love story? The answer - in a very positive sense, I think
- is yes to the love story, no to the gay. Make no mistake: The film is as frank
in its portrayal of sex between men as in its use of old-fashioned romance movie
conventions. Its stars are unabashedly glamorous. The big-eyed Jake Gyllenhaal
is a far cry from Proulx's small, bucktoothed Jack Twist, just as the blond, square-jawed
Heath Ledger is nothing like her Ennis Del Mar, ‘scruffy and a little cave-chested.’
Yet, even if, in their tailored jeans and ironed plaid shirts, Gyllenhaal and
Ledger sometimes look more like Wrangler models than teenagers too poor to buy
a new pair of boots, the film neither feels synthetic (in the manner of the abysmal
Making Love) nor silly (in the manner of gay porn).”
The Slate article: http://www.slate.com/id/2131865
Ed White’s forthcoming memoirs, My Life, is previewed – though the book’s
not as dishy as White is in person, writes John Freeman:
“By some accident of real-estate karma, a single street in Manhattan is
home to three of America's most illustrious figures in gay arts and letters. At
the end lies the apartment of the poet John Ashbery; further along one will find
Martin Duberman, the essayist and historian who unyoked scores of gay men from
self-hating therapy with his memoir Cures. Finally, near 8th Avenue, where muscle-heads
promenade like peacocks on Saturdays, a spitting distance from the cafes and leather
shops of the gayest corner of the gayest city of America, lives Edmund White.
Right next to a church.”
http://enjoyment.independent.co.uk/books/interviews/ article308162.ece
“Many of us came to the work of British novelist Alan Hollinghurst for the
sex in his first novel, The Swimming-Pool Library in 1988, but we have stayed
- as we do in all good relationships - because we found someone who understands
us.” Andy Humm interviews Hollinghurst as The Line of Beauty appears
in paper:
http://www.gaycitynews.com/gcn_445/
powersofobservation.html
Hollinghurst interviewed in the Harvard Crimson. “A gay British guy and
a straight American teenager walk into a café...”:
http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref+509644
In praise of Fran Lebowitz, still acclaimed after all these years (and only
two books): “Lebowitz proved to me that being a humor whore was an ultimately
pointless endeavor. Unless you're true to yourself, you'll regret it the morning
after. Either that, or you'll end up with some manner of comedy STD... and nothing
is more painful than an infected sense of irony.” Bill Gibron celebrates the
writer with big hair in PopMatters:
http://www.popmatters.com/features/mft/ lebowitz-fran-051102.shtml
Jesse Green on Sarah Schulman, the playwright: “Though her speech is armored
with jargon, the effect is often mitigated, in person, by her almost maternal
warmth. Still, I found myself repeatedly preparing to flinch as she stalked me
for bad motives, tired agendas and prejudices; when she thought she spied one
she pounced as if to drag it from behind some trees and let it rot in the sun.”
http://www.iht.com/articles/2005/10/24/news/sarah.php
Aaron Hamburger discusses his creative inspiration, the gay scene in Israel,
living the literary life in Rome – and his new novel, Faith for Beginners:
http://www.sovo.com/2005/10-21/ arts/books/books.cfm
A Chelsea card shop adds
queer books (and more) to its mix. “…expect no overwrought answers
from (Rainbows and Triangles manager Nathan Siegel) when asked why the
neighborhood needs a bookstore. ‘Because gay people write and read books,’ he
says, his eyes wide with indignation.”
http://www.newyorkblade.com/2005/10-21/locallife/ main/main.cfm
Zheng Yuantao, an editor at gaychina.net since 2001, is translating gay themed
Western literature in “an attempt to bring the finer points of gay culture to
a wider audience.”
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2005-11/11/ content_493739.htm
Although Jack Fritscher’s memoir-novel, Some Dance to Remember, occasionally
slows to a crawl, persevere for a strong and culturally engaging read, says Greg
Marzullo in the Houston Voice:
http://www.houstonvoice.com/2005/11-25/arts/ books/book-back.cfm
Teen-tale and sci-fi storyteller Mark Kendrick (Desert Sons,
Into This World We're Thrown, Stealing Some Time, the forthcoming
The Ryelerran Gateway) emerges as “an iUniverse star,” sells 10,000 copies
of his books, and discusses why he went the print-on-demand route… and what it
took to make it work:
http://blogcritics.org/archives/2005/10/10/111642.php
Author info: http://www.mark-kendrick.com
Wicked and Son of a Witch author Gregory Maguire talks to USA
Today about being both popular, and a subversive: “I am always rather proud
of both, to the extent that those are valid descriptions of me. How subversive
could I really be? I'm a father of three young kids, a practicing Catholic, a
registered voter who does vote, a taxpayer, a volunteer on boards of local charities,
etc.? Yet I am also an openly gay married man, a critic of the current administration,
an occasional public dissenter about Vatican policy and practices. And there's
probably a file on me in Washington somewhere because I visited Nicaragua as a
member of Witness for Peace when Americans were strongly recommended to keep their
feet out of Managua. No part of the above is anti-American, so ‘subversive’ is
perhaps more flattering than accurate.”
http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/news/ 2005-10-12-gregory-maguire-interview_x.htm
James McCourt on Dennis Cooper’s God Jr.: “When
I talk about Dennis Cooper's writing, I tend to become excited beyond enunciation,
sounding something like Joyce's Molly Bloom, all heated up there in her bed over
life and love: Yes, because it's very important, yes, because I've been wanting
for ages to do a bit of justice on behalf of a body of work of a certain genius
and the most Los Angeles kind of writing since whenever … since Raymond Chandler…”
http://www.calendarlive.com/books/bookreview/ cl-bk-mccourt2oct02,0,3145953.story? coll=cl-bookreview
The Romentics guys were finalists in Planet Out’s “Entrepreneur of the Year
Awards” for 2005 – though two men and their perfume company won:
http://www.planetout.com/content/slideshow/splash.html? coll=602&order=2&navpath=/topics/money/entrepreneur/
Praise, with profound regrets, from Michael Bronski, for a new book on an old
Harvard scandal: “It would be difficult to imagine a more intriguing
topic for a book: in 1920, Harvard’s esteemed president, A. Lawrence Lowell, put
into action an inquisitorial secret court to ferret out, expel, castigate, and
humiliate homosexual students. The result of this judicial burlesque was a score
of ruined lives and several suicides. It would also be difficult to imagine a
worse book on this topic than William Wright’s Harvard’s Secret Court:
The Savage 1920s Purge of Campus Homosexuals. Given the clumsiness of Wright’s
organization, the laxness of his writing, the lurid excess of his rhetoric, and
the paucity of his historical analysis, it’s amazing that Harvard’s Secret Court
has any narrative drive at all. But this story is so compelling that the book
is a page-turner.”
http://www.bostonphoenix.com/boston/arts/books/ documents/05119970.asp
Gore Vidal, unqueer icon:
http://www.washblade.com/2005/12-9/arts/books/icon.cfm
Gay men don’t read in New Zealand?
http://www.gaynz.com/news/default.asp? dismode=article&artid=2898
Nominations are still open for the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards for queer SF/fantasy
writing:
http://www.spectrumawards.org
Click the Link for 36 (Elsewhere) Reviews By Me...
Branwell: A Novel of the Bronte Brother, by Douglas A. Martin (Soft
Skull) Kings in Their Castles: Photographs of Queer Men at Home, by Tom
Atwood (Terrace Books) Katharine Hepburn: The Untold Story, by James Robert
Parish (Advocate Books Celebrating Hotchclaw, by Ann Ellen Shockley
(A&M Books)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/051205-bookmarks.html
Potato Queen, by Rafaelito V. Sy (Palari Publishing) Heroes, by
Patrick Fillion (Bruno Gmunder) 101 Must-See Movies for Gay Men, by Alonso
Duralde (Advocate Books) Wild Girls, by Diana Souhami (St. Martin's
Press)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/051121-bookmarks.html
They Change the Subject, by Douglas A. Martin (Terrace Books) Tab
Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star, by Tab Hunter with Eddie
Muller (Algonquin Books) Between You and Me: Queer Disclosures in the New
York Art World, 1948-1963, by Gavin Butt (Duke University Press) Murder
on the Mother Road, by Brenda Weathers (New Victoria Press)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/051107-bookmarks.html
The City of Falling Angels, by John Berendt (The Penguin Press) Swimming
in the Monsoon Sea, by Shyam Selvadurai (Tundra Books) The Man Who Invented
Rock Hudson: The Pretty Boys and Dirty Deals of Henry Willson, by Robert Hofler
(Carroll & Graf) The Iron Girl, by Ellen Hart (St. Martin's Minotaur)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/051025-bookmarks.html
The Commitment: Love, Sex, Marriage, and My Family, by Dan Savage (Dutton
Books) Wounded, by Percival Everett (Graywolf Press) The Rice
Queen Diaries, by Daniel Gawthrop (Arsenal Pulp Press) In Too Deep,
by Ronica Black (Bold Stroke Books)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/051010-bookmarks.html
Three Fortunes in One Cookie, by Cochrane Lambert (Alyson Books) Center
Square: The Paul Lynde Story, by Joe Florenski and Steve Wilson (Advocate
Books) Clearcut, by Nina Shengold (Anchor Books) Rode Hard, Put Away
Wet: Lesbian Cowboy Erotica, edited by Sacchi Greene and Rakelle Valencia
(Suspect Thoughts Press)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/050926-bookmarks.html
How's Your Romance?, by Ethan Mordden (St. Martin's Press) Breakfast
with Tiffany: An Uncle's Memoir, by Edwin John Wintle (Miramax Books) Sodom
on the Thames: Sex, Love, and Scandal in Wilde Times, by Morris Kaplan (Cornell
University Press) Crashing America, by Katia Noyes (Alyson Books)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/050829-bookmarks.html
What We Do Is Secret, by Thorn Kief Hillsbery (Villard Books) Hitting
Hard, by Michelangelo Signorile (Carroll & Graf) My One-night Stand
With Cancer, by Tania Katan (Alyson Books) No Sister of Mine, by Jeanne
G'Fellers (Bella Books)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/050815-bookmarks.html
God Jr., by Dennis Cooper (Black Cat/Grove) The Next World,
by Ursula Steck (Bella Books) Diary of a Drag Queen, by Daniel Harris
(Carroll & Graf) Turn the Beat Around: The Secret History of Disco,
by Peter Shapiro (Faber & Faber)
http://www.gmax.co.za/feel/books05/050801-bookmarks.html
University of Chicago, Kensington, Alyson: BTWOFs
Religions and queers, from University of Chicago Press:
Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500-1800, by Khaled
El-Rouayheb, $32.50 - Attitudes toward homosexuality in the pre-modern Arab-Islamic
world are commonly depicted as schizophrenic. On the one hand, Arabic love poetry,
biographical works, and bawdy satires suggest that homosexuality was a visible
and tolerated part of Arab-Islamic elite culture before the nineteenth century.
On the other hand, Islam supposedly considers homosexuality an abomination and
prescribes severe punishment for it. The paradox is explained in this expansive
book, which draws on poetry, belles lettres, biographical literature, medicine,
physiognomy, dream interpretation, and Islamic legal, mystical, and homiletic
texts. (Dec.)
Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, by John Boswell,
$23 – A propos gay marriage and gay priests, circa now: “Boswell's study
of the history of attitudes toward homosexuality in the early Christian West was
a groundbreaking work that challenged preconceptions about the Church's past relationship
to its gay members when it was first published 25 years ago. The historical breadth
of Boswell's research (from the Greeks to Aquinas) and the variety of sources
consulted make this one of the most extensive treatments of any single aspect
of Western social history.” (Dec.)
A John Boswell page:
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/pwh/index-bos.html
Fiction, pictures, and advice from Kensington/Citadel:
James Dean: Behind the Scene, edited by Leith Adams & Keith Burns,
$19.95 – Fifteen years after its first edition, this collection of photographs,
personal letters and studio correspondence is back in print to mark the 50th anniversary
of brooding-boy’s death. (Jan.) One
Night Stand, by Ben Tyler, $14 – Paper edition of Tyler’s tasty tale of lusty
callboys and the wealthy clients willing to pay for their salacious (but smartly
safe) sexual shenanigans. (Jan.)
Gay Parenting: Complete Guide for Same-Sex Parenting, by Shana Priwer
& Cynthia Phillips, $13.95 – It’s said that 180,000 same-sex couples are already
raising kids in America; this couple, with three children, cover all the legal
bases for others wanting to burp babies. (Feb.)
Mardi Gras Mambo, by Greg Herren, $14 – In this paperback original sequel
to Jackson Square Jazz and Bourbon Street Blues, it’s (pre-Katrina)
carnival time in New Orleans, and former go-go boy Scotty Bradley plays around,
not nicely, with the Russian mob. (Mar.)
Herren blogs: http://www.livejournal.com/users/scottynola
Someone Like You, by Timothy James Beck, $14 – One beautiful sister,
Vienna, mad at men but still looking. One hairdresser with a scissor-sharp tongue,
Davii, craving a nice guy to come home to. One kept man, Derek, ready to make
some changes in his life. One babe magnet, Christian, charming and savvy and cool.
They’re four friends shopping for love, in this warm comic novel from the writing
team that wrought I’m Your Man, He’s The One, and It Had to Be
You. (Apr.)
Meet Timothy, Timothy, Becky, and Jim:
http://www.timothyjamesbeck.com/tjbfaq.html
Debut fiction, myth inverted, much erotica: new from Alyson
10 Smart Things Gay Men Can Do to Find Real Love, by Joe Kort. $14.95
– From the author of 10 Smart Things Gay Men Can Do To Improve Their Lives
– aha! we sense a theme – comes this advice book about decoding sexual fantasies,
struggling for gay manhood, not belonging, and dealing with parental role models…
and about both finding and becoming Mr. Right. (Dec.)
Author info: www.joekort.com
Ultimate Gay Erotica 2006, edited by Jesse Grant, $15.95 – Ya’ got your
Best Gay, ya’ got your Hot Gay. Round out your ’06 collection with
this “ultimate” anthology. (Dec.)
Running Dry, by M. Christian, $13.95 – At 154, Los Angeles painter Ernst
Droud is merely middle-aged – and stunned when he receives a cryptic letter from
the lover he last saw in 1913…when he killed him. Prolific editor and short story
writer Christian’s first full-fledged novel is a stunner. (Jan.)
Author info: http://www.mchristian.com
Best Gay Love Stories 2006, edited by Nick Street, $14.95 – Stories.
Short. Original. Romantic. Passionate. Sniff. You might cry. Or maybe cum. (Jan.)
Mordred, Bastard Son: The Mordred Trilogy, Part One, by Douglas Clegg,
$24.95 - Clegg's heroic recasting of the life story of Mordred, bastard (and in
other accounts, heinously villainous) son of legendary King Arthur, is a nifty
way of making an oft-told tale fresh again - and more queer than it's ever been.
(Jan.)
Author info: http://www.douglasclegg.com/
Dorm Porn: Raunchy Tales of Boys on Campus, edited by Sean Fisher, $14.95
– Sex in the dorms. Huh. Who ever knew (wink wink)? (Feb.)
Rock Starlet, by Stewart Lewis, $13.95 – This gay rock star sings it
loud and, to the dismay of his manager and record company handlers, a little too
proudly flamboyant; Lewis’s debut novel is about the fruitless butching up of
a boy in the band. (Mar.)
Back Where He Started, by Jay Quinn, $14.95 – Paper edition of Quinn’s
exquisite exploration of gay fatherhood, domestic heartbreak, and picking up the
pieces at the far end of midlife. “Warm, funny, winning, and real,” said Paul
Lisicky. (Mar.)
Bestselling Books At Giovanni's Room - December 2005
Gay Interest
Brokeback Mountain, by Anne Proulx (Scribner, $9.95) - This award-winning
story of a romance between two gay cowboys coincides with the release of the film
starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger.
Close Range, by Anne Proulx (Scribner, $14.00) - A collection
of award-winning stories about loneliness, quick violence, and the wrong kinds
of love (includes “Brokeback Mountain”).
Words to Our Now, by Thomas Glave (U. of Minnesota, $25.95) - In
these essays, Glave draws on his experiences as a politically committed, gay Jamaican
American.
Sons, by Alphonso Morgan (Lane Street Press, $14.95) - In
1990's Brooklyn, a teenage boy struggles with his sexuality in the age of Hip-hop.
Tab Hunter Confidential, by Tab Hunter (Algonquin, $24.95)
- Actor and heartthrob Hunter reveals his rise to fame and demands of the
studios in this best-selling tell-all memoir.
Maurice & Alec in America, by Fred Carrier (Author House, $14.95)
- Maurice & Alec flee England and a rigid class society that would keep them
apart.
Millionaire of Love, by David Leddick (Southern Tier, $19.95)
- A unique story of the depth and beauty of romantic obsession between old and
young men set in exotic European locales.
Boys in the Brownstone, by Kevin Scott (Southern Tier, $22.95) -
A collection of witty, affectionate - and disturbing - tales of the city with
a colorful assortment of characters.
Rainbow Road, by Alex Sanchez (Scribners, $16.95) - Sanchez's bestselling
"Rainbow series" concludes with an unforgettable road trip for the boys.
This Gay Utopia, by John Butler (Starbooks, $16.95) - An erotic
novel of a small East Coast town where homosexuality is encouraged.
General Queer Interest
Out in History, by Thom Nichols (Starbooks, $16.95) - A collection of brief
but informative profiles on famous queer historical figures.
What the Bible Really Says About Homosexuality, by Daniel A. Helminiak
(Alamo Square, $14) - This updated edition explains that faulty translations of
the Bible condemn homosexuality.
50 Fabulously Gay-Friendly Places to Live, by Gregory A. Kompes (Career
Press, $24.99) - A wonderful reference guide to queer-friendly locales and communities.
Provincetown, by Karen Christel Krahulik (NYU Press, $29.95) - An accomplished
history of the New England town that has become so welcoming to queer folk.
City of Sisterly and Brotherly Loves, by Marc Stein (Temple, $22.95) -
A remarkable history of queer Philadelphia and the post-WWII lesbian and gay experience.
The Complete Guide to Gay and Lesbian Weddings, by K.C. David (Thomas Dunne,
$16.95) - Planning a wedding? Let this book help with thoughtful advice and wonderful
nuptial notions.
Loving Someone Gay, by Don Clark (Celestial Arts, $16.95) - One of the
best books offering a positive profile of queer identity.
And Tango Makes Three, by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson (Simon
& Schuster, $14.95) - A delightful picture book featuring an embrace of all
sorts of families, especially a pair of penguin dads.
The Giovanni’s Room website: www.giovannisroom.com
The Writers Write About What Was Written: Some Letters
BTWOF:
Wow! I printed out the 2005 list of BTWOF and have re-read it several
times. What a fascinating assortment of tastes and points of view... every one
of them valid and every one of them telling by offering an insight into the contributor.
Thanks for the opportunity to put in my two cents!
-Jay Quinn
BTWOF:
This was a great issue! I love reading all these varied opinions on books.
And now of course my already stupidly long reading list has mushroomed. But it's
still exhilarating, as I love books.
—Marilyn Jaye Lewis
BTWOF:
Thanks for this. What great fun to read the entries - an excellent way to make
a list of must-reads.
—Shaun Levin
BTWOF:
What an interesting list! And what a clever idea of yours...
—Brent Hartinger
BTWOF:
A fascinating list, and a fascinating project, certainly one that bears repeating
in future years. I was especially surprised not only by how few of the recommended
books I'd heard of, but by how few of the recommenders I'd heard of: just
one or two more than half of the folks you asked, by my count. Do you have an
especially eclectic group of friends…. Glad to see so many other folks recommended
Vestal's book.
—Michael Lowenthal
BTWOF:
What a surprise! And how lovely! My little book needs all the help it can get,
and this is a big help.
—Vestal McIntyre
BTWOF:
Thanks for the great end of year cheer. So much nicer than reading
apologia, insanity, and downright stupefying stupidity from either our White House or its Gap-assed media flacks. It is amazing, if not even startling
to me, that gay books in any form continue. I mean, I'll be doing this till I
either die or go so senile I can't read anymore, but the deniability of genuine
feelings is really upon us, and here in NY-Oz where the horses change color at
will, it becomes stylish to repeat that queer men and their "culture"
are either out of fashion, or existence. Of course, I don't believe that, but
some do.
—Perry Brass
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