Sarah Waters: Affinity

An upperclass woman recovering from a suicide attempt becomes a volunteer visitor at Millbank women's prison. It is 1874, spiritualism is at its height, and one of the inmates is a genteel medium convicted of fraud. This woman stands out amongst the murderers and thieves who surround her.
The visitor develops a special bond with the medium and after a sceptical start becomes convinced that her abilities are real. Eventually she falls in love with the woman and helps her plan her escape. She is to arrange the mundane aspects of their getaway, while the woman insists that the spirits will help her with the actual prison break.
But will, the desperate plan work?
I have mixed feelings about this work. I have quite enjoyed stories by Waters in the past but I don't feel that this one lived up to its potential.
The pace was very slow and at times I felt I was reading a tract on the conditions and workings of ninteenth century prisons.
Having said that, the story had a feeling of truth to it, the characters were quite believable, if somewhat unsympathetic. The ending is good in that it brings everything to light but somehow it still felt loose to me.
I think there was a lot that might have been done here that wasn't, a shame because the author's voice is strong and capable.-Lynn

The Straight Road to Kylie – Nico Medina

Jonathan Parish’s life is pretty awesome – out and proud, surrounded by his three best girl friends, and senior year lies gloriously ahead; the only hiccup is the lack of any prospect of a boyfriend. The only other out teen at Winter Park High is not at all suitable, thank you very much. But everything goes horribly wrong when the meticulously planned celebration of bestie Joanna’s birthday is derailed by a combination of too much alcohol, adolescent hormones and the distress of second bestie Alexandra’s continued virginity. Somehow – how? How? – Jonathan finds himself in a bedroom, having sex, with a girl.
The act itself was less hideous than the aftermath – a chink having opened in his heretofore unquestioned homosexuality, Winter Park’s reigning teen queen Laura Schulberg extends an offer he can’t refuse: pretend to be her boyfriend for the rest of the year and get an all-expenses-paid trip to London, to see the fabulous Kylie Minogue who, almost certainly, will never tour the US (and is, coincidentally, playing in the Pret where I’m writing this review). What choice does he have?
The Straight Road to Kylie wasn’t unenjoyable, but I had several issues with it, almost certainly due to my vast age at least as much as to the writing itself. Chief among these is the fact that there is a lot of alcohol (and light recreational drug) use, with no real consequences apart from a few survivable hangovers. This makes me sound like a terrible prude – it’s not that I think there should be death, dismemberment, car accidents, permanent paralysis, teen pregnancies and brushes with STD’s, but the novel is almost a tribute to teen alcohol use in a country where the legal drinking age is higher than the global average. I certainly get that the pivotal plot moment comes about as a result of Jonathan being drunk but that doesn’t even cause him a second’s thought.
Which brings me to my second issue – all of the characters, but Jonathan in particular, as spookily composed, mature and rational. While it’s refreshing to have jocks who aren’t all homophobic meatheads, the only character who seems to get at all flustered is Alex, who makes the common mistake of confusing sex with love. Interestingly, despite all the alcohol there’s somehow almost no sex apart from the opening scene of Alex and Jonathan’s mutual deflowering.
Unsurprisingly, given these factors, there’s almost no adult presence in The Straight Road to Kylie – with the exception of Jonathan’s boss at Target (hardly fully fleshed) adults are peripheral and sketchy at best. I’m not saying my teachers and parents were fully people to me at that age but they were definitely in my life. Maybe that’s just the Gen X/Gen Y gap...
I did enjoy The Straight Road to Kylie, despite these issues – I liked the premise, and although Jonathan’s life is close to idyllic it was nice to read about a gay teen who’s not only comfortable with his sexuality but accepted by his parents and peers. I do doubt that groovy Jonathan has a MySpace account, but I’m old and on FaceBook so maybe there’s been a pre Google+ retro return to MySpace. Hardly the biggest of quibbles, anyway.
I didn’t hate The Straight Road to Kylie, and I finished it to its predictably rounded happy ever after, but I have no need to pass it on or re-read it and will instead be leaving it when I finish my lunch. – Alex

Sister’s Keeper – Randye Lordon

Private investigator Sydney Sloane has mixed feelings about her sister Nora coming home to Manhattan to visit – she loves Nora, but her sister disapproves of Sydney’s orientation, and isn’t too pleased about her profession, either. They put that all to one side, however, to attend an AIDS fundraiser catered by Nora’s lifelong best friend, Zoe Freeman. The evening is a stunning success, but when Zoe fails to meet Sydney, Nora and dashing André Masire at a bar afterward, Sydney decides to call it a night – only to pass the scene where Zoe’s been killed in a hit-run.
Curiously, Zoe was carrying credit cards of a Louise Carson – a woman nobody can find. Sydney senses that something is a little off, and before she knows it she’s embroiled in a complicated puzzle involving a sadistic misogynist, secret identities, off-shore bank accounts, a missing ex-husband/stalker, unrequited love, giant water bugs, bad Argentinian wine, scheming rival caterers, and several more deaths.
Along the way Sydney realises that she might be in love with her current partner, Leslie; becomes reacquainted with the only man who’s seriously tempted her (former co-cadet, now detective, Brian); and, with the aid of her aunt Minnie, brokers a relationship between Nora and Leslie. She also, somehow, commits to going camping.
Published in 1994 and the second in a series, Sister’s Keeper has only slightly dated – I don’t know how much AIDS fundraising there is in this post-antiretroviral world, but people still die of HIV/AIDS, and there’s still a disturbing amount of homophobic discomfort. What has changed since Sister’s Keeper was released: Italy is part of the European Union, so there’s no Italian currency; the dart board in Sydney’s partner Max’s office includes photos of Idi Amin, George Bush senior, Nancy Reagan, Newt Geingrich, and the very then-topical but now defunct Mike Milken and David Duke; and there’s a little technology lag – not only no internet and mobile/cell phones, but even cordless phones are a novelty. These are small elements, and had I not been looking for them I probably wouldn’t even have noticed. More significantly, though, a substantial plot element involving a very good false identity (complete with passport) would attract significant official attention now, but is of only passing interest to anyone but Sydney and Max. In our post-9/11 world, and particularly as I write this review sitting in a lounge at LAX, the idea of police being blasé about false documents is strikingly discordant, and telling about how much the world has changed in little over a decade.
These are most certainly not weaknesses, particularly in a novel that has managed to retain most of its original narrative power. There are a few flaws in the plot, most significantly, the question of how the unconnected Zoe managed to directly contact a master forger. I also found it just a little hard to swallow that not one but two characters with pivotal information are murdered in front of Sydney, just as they’re about to reveal vital information.
These few quibbles aside, however, Sister’s Keeper is as strong and compelling as I remember from my first reading, the better part of two decades ago. The characters are well crafted and distinct, particularly Sydney. There’s a little sex, conveyed very much in the Greenwood vein of just enough information to give the reader a sense of what’s happening without any detail (a pleasant contrast to contemporary romances, though I grant you this is a different genre as well as a different era). The plot certainly has its occasional creative leaps, but all in all it was a pleasant rediscovery. And it’s not relevant, but I also liked that one of the two books Sydney has on the go (one for public consumption, the other for home) is by a favourite author overdue for a reread and review, Sandra Scoppottone’s Donnato and Daughter. As I said, nothing germane but nice for me.
Sister’s Keeper is the second in a perhaps five book series – though I read Brotherly Love I can’t find it in my great wall of book-filled boxes, but the background is woven skilfully enough through this instalment that it’s not a requirement. I do have the next two sitting at home, accessible, and may well pick one up in the next wee while. - Alex

Jane Rule: Against the Season

The death of an elderly woman sends quiet ripples throughout her tiny community. Her sister copes with her loss by reading her sibling's diaries. Her shy grandnephew, sent to assist his surviving great aunt, learns courage from their pregnant and unwed housekeeper. A couple of lonely middle-aged friends turn to each other for comfort and are finally able to admit to wanting something more. An elderly couple throw caution and public opinion to the winds in order to be together. And the reclusive town butch is courted publicly by a very determined social worker.
It has been months since I read this and my memories of it are warm, almost affectionate.
As is the nature of Literature very little actually happens within the pages of this book but it is so deftly written that I barely noticed.
This is really a character study examining how people of various ages, experiences and inclinations react to love in all its forms. The characters slowly and gently unfold to the reader, beautiful in their complete ordinariness.
Well worth the effort if you're in the mood for mellow.-Lynn

Ellen Hart: Hallowed Murder

Although a young woman's death is ruled a suicide her sorority sisters are certain she was murdered. They request the help of their alumnae adviser to uncover the truth. Together with her best friend, the woman begins to search for clues to what actually happened. She soon discovers the women are right. There is a killer on the loose and she must risk everything to stop them before they kill again.
I read this back in November 2010 and already the finer details escape me.
I remember thinking that the main characters were well rounded and their lesbianism delicately and realistically handled. I have no particular strong recollections of the mystery itself, so I can only assume it was reasonably well written with twists not signposted too well in advance. The identity of the murderer seems quite obvious to me now but I can't honestly say whether that is attributable to hindsight or not.
I recall enjoying the story at the time but not so much that I've been inspired to track down the author's other works.-Lynn

Pride/Prejudice - Ann Herendeen

Charles always knew he'd one day need to take a wife, but he never dreamed he'd find a woman who would catch first his eye and then his heart, until he met Jane. This distresses Fitz, had never been attracted to a woman, intellectually or sexually, until he met Elizabeth. And Elizabeth enjoys her intimate romps with Charlotte more than anything she could imagine doing with a man, though glimpsing Charles and Fitz together makes her feel curiously faint and flushed.
As the title indicates, Pride/Prejudice is a slashy reworking of Jane Austen's most loved novel, that incorporates much of the original plot, characters, dialogue and events, but adds a new and significant dimension. Taking place before and between the scenes of Austen's novel, Pride/Prejudice seeks to uncover a truth universally ignored - that the two male leads of this most well read of literary classics has a clear but unseen subtext. In Herendeen's reimagining, Charles Bingley and Fitzwilliam Darcy are enthusiastic lovers, the latter more so than the former, who's ready to move forward into a more adult (ie heterosexual) relationship.
When Lizzie goes to Netherland Park to tend to her incapacitated sister she not only falls out with Darcy but also spies a rigorous tryst between him and her sister's love interest. The scene distresses her, for she loves Jane and wants her to be happy, an outcome Lizzie considers unlikely given Bingley's otherwise directed interest. But Lizzie is also a little captivated by what she sees...
And that's where I left Pride/Prejudice. Perhaps it was just that I read it a little to soon after Phyllida, perhaps I'm just over the obsessive love of Pride & Prejudice, or perhaps I just wasn't in the right head space for it. Whatever the reason, I had the strong sense that, like Phyllida, the action would in all senses focus on the men, that the male relationships would be more complex and rewarding that those with and between the women, and that Lizzie's main role would be to support Mr Darcy doing as he desired while she was content with the scraps of their relationship. I may well have been wrong - that, after all, is the down side to halting only part way through a book. But I'm not unhappy with my decision. - Alex

Phyllida and the Brotherhood of Philander - Ann Herendeen

Phyllida Lewis has few prospects, despite her good birth and curvaceous figure - at her one and only Season she received but one expression of interest, and that from an elderly and on all fronts unattractive, half-hearted suitor. Despite her mother's meddling, Phyllida would far rather in any case continue her writing - her first novel was published, under a pseudonym of course, only a short time ago and she's going through the proofs of her second.
She is, however, aware of her obligations to her family. So when the ton's most eligible (and formerly believed confirmed) bachelor, Andrew Carrington, in line for an earldom, comes courting, Phyllida is interested. His revelation that the marriage will be primarily to guarantee an heir, and will not obstruct his preference for men, provides little impediment - as long as Phyllida may write she's happy. But Phyllida and Andrew have more in common, and more chemistry, than they could have expected.
I came to Phyllida because of Lynn's review, which was intriguing. And, like Lynn, I was a little disappointed, though the cause of my disappointment differs. I haven't the familiarity with and exposure to Regency novels to pick up the same level of era discrepancy as Lynn, though I did feel a little as though the characters had contemporary sensibilities (compared, for example, with the way Greenwood's Phryne Fisher is both of her time yet not confined by its mores). However for me the missing element was all sexual, starting with the ease with which the formerly resolutely homosexual (though that word is never used in the text, as explained in the appendix) hero is robustly attracted to the very feminine Phyllida. I'm happy to accept that the inexperienced, unworldly Phyllida is quickly and (very, very) easily aroused by Andrew, despite his lack of attention to the differing needs of women than men. I also have no trouble at all with the idea that she's even more interested in seeing Andrew with another man. What I found frustrating was that, though both parties were aware of this, that aspect never came into play.
Instead, Phyllida's interest is manifested by her support for the like-minded gentlemen of Andrew's club, the Brotherhood of Philander. And while the novel is not an erotica (though the premise would make for a good one), nor even yet as much a romance as an historical mystery/exploration of the times, there are indicators that a three-way romp is in the offing - a tryst that never eventuates. For example, the first time Phyllida sees her husband with another man, a passionate kiss in a theatre changing room, she:

watched, the blood rushing to her face and her breath coming in short little gasps. She should look away, she told herself, or say something, but she did neither. She was only vaguely aware that her secret place, the one Andrew had brought to so frightening a peak of ecstasy, was again engorged, almost throbbing, just at the sight of her husband and the handsome actor embracing.

But the promise hinted at here is never delivered, as the plot moves instead in pursuit of a Napoleonic, somewhat Byzantine mystery involving ledger books, codes, Franco-American spies, blackmail and wheels within wheels that made (for me, at any rate) Andrew's orientation more a reason for pressure than an integral part of the plot - any other scandal might almost have done as well. That direction takes precedence over not only the sexual side of the story but also the romance, and the whole is then rather hastily wound up in about a chapter and a half.
That said, I did enjoy Heredeen's voice, and have borrowed another of her novels, which I hope will be a little less conflicted about its purpose. - Alex

For Lynn's review of Phyllida and the Brotherhood of Philander click here.

Cycler - Lauren McLaughlin

Jill McTeague is a run-of-the-mill American teen – she’s neither an outcast nor most popular, enjoys school for the most part, and really wants her secret crush to ask her to prom. But four days a month Jill isn’t quite so run-of-the-mill – though her teachers and friends think she has a medical problem that requires monthly transfusions, ever since she was fourteen Jill has spent four days a month as a boy, complete with genitals and attitude.
After seeking medical advice, to no avail, Jill’s mother decided to lock Jack away from the world, protecting Jill from the publicity and scrutiny the alternative would cause. But Jack’s becoming less happy about a life that consists of one small house and not so much as an internet connection to let him interact with the world, and he’s emerging more often.
I was captivated by this premise when I first came across the book a couple of years ago, and when I found my library had no plans to purchase it bought a copy myself. Jack is by far the most dynamic character, though throughout the novel Jill becomes more aware of the confines her very controlled mother has placed on her, and on the passive role her father plays in their life.
The parent relationship is interesting, and somewhat under-explored, though this is understandable given the narration of the text by Jill and Jack. I was also a little disappointed that Cycler ends at the most narratively interesting point. There’s some interesting, but somewhat masked, aspects of gender and sexual identity brought up in the text, and the romantic hero identifies as bisexual which is unusual in the genre and worthy of note, particularly the response of his classmates. All in all, though, I was a little disappointed in Cycler, which I think could have spent a little less time on the more vapid aspects of Jill’s personality (like the intricately planned and doomed Operation Swoon, designed to entice her target into inviting Jill to prom) and more time on these interesting aspects. – Alex

Putting on the Ritz – Joe Keenan

Librettist Philip Cavanaugh is at a very low ebb, following the disastrous opening (and closing) night of his and collaborator Claire Simmons’s cheeky musical satire. He is, therefore, unable to mount any defence against ex-lover and dear friend Gilbert Selwyn’s latest brilliant moneymaking plan. Or, as he puts it, “that fateful afternoon when Disaster, brilliantly disguised as Opportunity, first bade me come closer and listen awhile.”
From time to time over the following weeks Phillips manages to surface from the glamorous whirlpool of competing publishing moguls, family in-fighting, talentless but egotistical women of power, and deception to castigate himself for once again listening to Gilbert. For the most part, however, he is swept up in the intrigue of planting hidden mics, rubbing shoulders with New York’s crème de la crème, and competing with Gilbert for the attentions of the distractingly divine Tommy Parker.
This sequel to Blue Heaven is delightful. My humble wordsmithing cannot pay due homage to Keenan’s wit, a feat made more difficult by my leaving this review until some weeks after reading the novel. I did, however, thoroughly enjoy the machinations of the plot, the beautifully witty writing, the subtle (and not so subtle) character shadings, and the sparkling humour that lights almost every page. My only hiccup came at the line: “Charmed to see you again,” she said, and, pivoting toward the door, breezed regally past Dunbar, her fanny undulating like a lava lamp.” As fanny means something rather different here than it does in the US, I had to pause a moment before continuing. That small cultural gap aside, Keenan is perfect for those days when you need something intelligent, but light, amusing but not trivial, contemporary but harking back to the eras of Wodehouse, Coward and Wilde. - Alex

Blue Heaven – Joe Keenan

An amusing late twentieth century take on PG Wodehouse and the (unknown to me) Preston Sturges set in New York, Blue Heaven is the tale of how hapless Philip Cavanaugh is inveigled into playing a role in a brilliant but doomed plot, dreamed up by his friend and former lover Gilbert Selwyn.

Looking back on the whole ghastly affair, what surprises me most is that when news of Gilbert's plan first reached me I felt no sense of foreboding
whatsoever. I didn't blanch, I didn't tremble, nor did I rush to a pay phone to call an airline and enquire about low fares to the Canary Islands. My early warning system, usually so reliable where Gilbert is concerned, had completely shut down. I was at a gallery opening, you see, and cheap wine will do that to you.

Gilbert is in even more dire financial straits than the perpetually penniless Philip, and has been cut off by his usually indulgent mother on the strong advice of her second husband, Tony Cellini. It was when he attended the wedding of Tony's niece that that the perfect solution came to him – a wedding! All expenses paid for, and groaning tables of wonderful gifts. The clincher was when Gilbert discovered that it's a family tradition to open the gifts in front of the wedding party, thereby ensuring that everything's expensive. The only fly in the ointment is the little matter of Gilbert preferring men. Oh, and finding a bride. The former is glossed over as a phase, made easier by Gilbert's never actually coming out to his mother or step-father. The latter problem is solved when Gilbert discovers that the truly odious and conniving Moira Finch is in a similar situation it seems almost preordained.
What Gilbert didn't factor in was that for every step forward, the pair would find themselves in a more complicated situation than the one they'd left. Well, that and the fact that Moira's interests didn't completely align with Gilberts. Oh, and the pesky little issue of Tony being fairly high in the New York mob. And wherever goes Gilbert goes Philip, his eyes a little more open and his fear considerably greater than Gilbert's.
My copy of Blue Heaven is thick with tags where I've come across particularly amusing sections, but sitting down to write I realize that I risk reproducing half the book if I quote them all. The dialogue is crisp and funny, the plot is original yet true to its inspirations, and the characters are unique and well rounded. I grew quite fond, while maintaining a strong appreciation of her fictionality, of Moira's fashion designer friend, Vulpina, whose creative approach has to be curbed while maintaining a friendship – though we never get a clear picture of the dress she'd like to create, odd phrases like "all those wolverines" gives one enough of an impression! The supporting cast, particularly the Italian wing, is sizeable, and I didn't bother keeping close track of who related to whom, but that wasn't necessary. In any case, Keenan supplies beautiful vignettes:

Sammy Fabrizio was a large woman in her late fifties. She wore a tight strapless gown of electric blue and earrings which might, on a weaker woman, have caused spinal damage. Her hair was sculpted into a bizarre terraced beehive that made her head resemble an ancient Inca cliff dwelling. Her voice reminded me of a duck, and not a clean-living duck either but one that's been drinking gin and chain-smoking since it was a duckling.

Ah, it's the voice that tips the portrait into a masterpiece! If you like your fiction witty, funny and a little arch, Keenan is for you. I can't remember much about my first reading of Blue Heaven, some twenty years ago, in no small part because it coincided with such a large Wodehouse binge I haven't returned in the interim. I vaguely remember buying the sequel, Putting on the Ritz, which may well turn up in one of my boxes and will certainly be read. – Alex

Kiss the Girls and Make Them Spy - Mabel Maney

Jane Bond is tired of waking every morning with a vile hangover, lying next to some half-remembered pick up from the night before, but ever since she discovered her lover Astrid in bed with (oh the cliche) her best friend Ruth, Jane's had trouble doing anything else. Bridget's different than the other women, though - a gorgeous Powder Puff Cosmetics seller clad in a hot pink mini dress and thigh high white boots, she's every inch a 1962 moddish girl about town who takes no crap from Jane. She's also an agent for GEORGIE (Greater European Organisation of Radical Girls Interdicting Evil) which creates all kinds of problems when the Secret Service tap Jane on the shoulder to serve her queen and country. Jane's brother, the suave agent 007, is in a sanatorium but his presence is urgently required at a royal event. With a radical haircut and ingeniously tailored suit Jane may be able to pass for her twin brother, leaving the enemies of the state none the wiser.
There are subplots about a conservative group (Sons of Britain Society) plotting to kidnap the queen and reinstate the Duke of Windsor to the throne, and a spy eager to take over from 007 but failing, but you have the gist. The author of gay and lesbian parodies involving the Hardly Boys, Nancy Clue and Cherry Aimless, Maney has turned her hand to one of pop cultures most iconic figures and carried of Fleming's style quite well.
The plot is ludicrously convoluted, just like some of the canon novels, the Britishness is beautifully threaded through (particularly for an American author), there's a great sense of time as well as place, and the dialogue is punchy and often comedically perfect. Like all parodies a little goes a long way, but if you're a fan of the Bond books and prepared for some tweaks this is the book for you. - Alex

I Married an Earthling - Alvin Orloff

Norvex 7, an Earth Studies professor from the evolved planet Zeeron, wants to make a point. His planet is benevolent and prioritises outrageous fashion - hairdressing and fashion design are particularly prestigious professions, the more innovative the better. Earth's television broadcasts have been received on Zeeron for a few years, and have heavily influenced the common sense of what is and is not hot - enormous flares, massive Afro's, hugely platformed shoes and glittery makeup are the coolest things in fashion. When fashionistas at a cocktail party disparage the tastes of Earthlings, Norvex decides he'll go there himself and prove them all wrong.
Chester Julian struggles every day with the mundane, straight world around him. If it weren't for his best friend Daphne he wouldn't be able to make it through the day at all - being gay and a goth and having incredibly better sensibilities than those around him make him a target for the small minded peasants he has to daily confront at school.
I liked the premise, particularly the idea of an Earth Studies anthropologist. Leaving aside the predictable, but nonetheless annoying, view that nowhere on earth exists except for the US, many aspects of I Married an Earthling irritated me - the book was a triumph of alleged style over any substance, the characters poorly developed, and the dialogue unrealistic. This was compounded by a threadbare plot and a lack of any kind of real insight into either a wholly different culture, a first contact situation, or a strong romantic relationship at the heart of the novel.
Perhaps I was expecting too much science fiction, where there was none, but this interesting idea could have been so much better and more interestingly executed by a stronger writer. Eh, eh, eh - Alex

All Through the Night - Suzanne Brockmann

FBI agent Jules Cassidy and partner Robin Chatwick, who met in Force of Nature, are about to tie the knot, an adventure marred only marginally by the success of Robin's new television series (that heightens all of Jules' relationship paranoias), an overseas crisis, the uncompleted renovation of their home, a nosy reporter trying to find a non-existant story, an ex-lover with an agenda who's being stalked by an anonymous psycho, and family dramas.
The significant section of the Jules/Robin story was told in Force of Nature, and though All Through the Night continues their story it's really a romance with an agenda that is well integrated into the plot but strongly present - gay couples are just the same as straight ones. The romance genre is notably conservative, and I doubt that an author less well established than Brockmann would have been able to pull this off in a mainstream market. The physical aspect of their relationship is toned down, which I imagine makes it easier to allow this fact to shine through to what may be a gay-squeamish audience, and when the families of the team come to support Robin when Jules (along with the rest of the team) is missing in Afghanistan, their places are reinforced as equal.
The chief secondary plot, of ex-Adam trying to split up man he was involved with first, while increasingly worried about a weirdo who keeps sending him letters about robot invaders, is interesting, and neatly rounds out what is more a novella than a complete novel.
The characters are, as always with Brockmann, strong and well-rounded, and for those familiar with the series it's a pleasure to catch up with all the partnerships created over the previous eleven Troublemaker/SEAL team 16 books. In fact, the only quibble I had was the book's brevity, but I'm going to console myself with the thought that this means the next novel will be out even sooner! - Alex

The Mammoth Book of Gay Erotica – Lawrence Schimel (ed)

Published in 1998, Gay Erotica gathers short stories from the previous fifteen years, with the intention of incorporating a broad cross section of the genre – restricted only to contemporary and living male authors, across a variety of nationalities (stories come from the UK, Canada and Australia, as well as the US), the editor aimed for “a celebration of gay men and gay sex, in all its complexity – from the delights of the flesh to anxiety about disease, from ephemeral anonymous encounters to long-term relationships. But each is unquestionably and unapologetically the story of desires between men.”
A large number of women enjoy reading gay porn or erotica (“a distinction based on marketing rather than content or quality, per se”), and I am one. I know from talking with gay male friends that, though there’s overlap, different audiences look for different things. I won’t go in to what it is I look for, except to say that I didn’t find it in this collection.
There have been significant changes in the gay community over the past decade, a fact that is true even though the phrase “gay community” makes it sound as though there’s a homogenous clump of gay men, which is of course not the case. With more, cheaper and better antiretroviral drugs, HIV/AIDS is more often a chronic disease than the imminent death sentence it once was, and the spectre of death less frequently haunts gay men. Ten years ago the effect of HIV drugs was beginning to be felt, but for many men too many friends and lovers had already died, and it’s wholly understandable that this is present in the collection, that those relationships be honoured, and the impact of the disease be acknowledged. Indeed, the earliest story was first published in 1982, before most of the world, including the medical community, had even heard about the disease.
However, death and dying aren’t erotic, or at least not to an appreciably large audience. When I’m reading erotica I’m more interested in being titillated than I am in literature, a distinction not shared by many of the authors. I’m also not thrilled about the heavy drinking and sustained drug use that is frequently present in the collection; I know it accurately reflects reality, but I’m not reading the collection to enhance my understanding of the lived experience of gay life at the turn of the century.
All of that’s fine – no collection will be all things to all readers, and the disinterested can skip over the bits that don’t appeal to them. But I was actively distressed by the inclusion by no fewer than three authors of strong and frequent references to the protagonists’ mothers. Take, for example, “John,” by G Winston James, where the narrative of a man leaving his therapist’s office and seeking anonymous sex in a gay porn theatre is interrupted frequently by flashbacks of his abusive mother, a past lover, and other unidentified characters. It might be interesting in a psychological portrait but I found it the antithesis of erotic. - Alex

Moab is My Washpot - Stephen Fry

Stephen Fry's fiction is like the man himself, at least as he appears to the casual-but-interested observer - wry, amusing, quintessentially English, somewhat self-conscious, unquestionably self-deprecating and disturbingly intelligent. This, the autobiography of his first two decades, is no different, though it's also illuminating, a little distressing, and surprisingly honest.
In Moab (a title I'd love to be able to explain without recoursing to Wikipedia, but my - expensive enough - education clearly left gaps of erudition filled by Fry's upbringing), he details his childhood, the lack of trauma of being sent off to boarding school as a young child, his long-held and deeply-rooted fears and anxieties, the shock of secondary school, his growing realisation that he was gay, and how (though not so much why) he went off the rails entirely and disappeared with a stolen credit card.
Sprinkled through the autobiography are (mostly) relevant and (always) interesting essays on a variety of topics, including a dispelling of the strongly held belief that gay sex is both unnatural and all about buggery, an explanation of why it's not distressing to go off to boarding school when it's the norm for everyone your know, and why our imperfections (like his broken nose) are important. He also describes the cockiness of intelligent youth (and my vocabulary is now enriched with the words pleonasm, as well as being replenished with the known-but-lost sesquepedilianism and prolix), the inculcation of U and non-U behaviour (including the appropriate pronunciation of such words as Monday and interesting, and the eschewment of serviette and mirror).
It's thanks to Moab that I now know Alexander Graham Bell once said "I do not think I am exaggerating the possibilities of this invention when I tell your that it is my firm belief that one day there will be a telephone in every major town in America."
Most of all, Fry beautifully and exquisitely captures the torment and tortures of childhood, from those that reverberate throughout our adulthoods to those that are wholly forgotten until we're reminded of them years later. Like Fry I wrote letters to myself to be opened by my older self, complete with stern admonishments that were embarrassing in retrospect, and pilfered petty cash from my parents (though never whole credit cards from hosts when I was a house guest). I could never write as well as Fry, but if I could this is what I'd want to write. - Alex

On the Fringe - Donald R Gallo (ed)

Inspired by the aftermath of the Columbine shootings, this 2001 collection of young adult stories focuses on the disenfranchised teen - those who look, act or think differently than the 'norm'. Gallo has selected some outstanding authors to contribute, and the result is an above-average anthology, with protagonists who range from the sexually unusure, poor and disadvantaged, the religious and those randomly cut adrift from the formerly friendly popular crowd. The outcomes also vary, from tragedy to triumph. There is, as one would expect, a strong US flavour - my high school experience was considerably less cliquey than that usually portrayed in US popular culture, an image so ubiquitous one suspects it's probably (to varying degrees) representative of real life. Although I'm not the target audience, I think the collection is equally effective for both the disenfranchised and those who haven't given outsiders much consideration. Of particular note is the Chris Crutcher contribution - he once again manages to incorporate constant archetypes while bringing something new. Not bad at all - Alex

Am I Blue? - Marion Dane Bauer (ed)

Subtitled Coming Out From the Silence, this 1994 collection of young adult short stories covers an array of gay and lesbian (not so much bisexual) awakenings, set over a range of eras, substantially American, and strongly coloured by the spectre of AIDS.
I first read Am I Blue? not long after it's publication, and was interested to see it on the library shelves last week. I had already read other works by some of the contributing authors, including William Sleater, ME Kerr, Lois Lowry, Jane Yolen and Leslea Newman, and I've since read several of Gregory Maguire's novels. In the intervening decade and a half I've developed as a reader, and now can't remember if I uncritically enjoyed all the stories. On this reading I found the quality a little uneven, skipping over a few altogether but really enjoying a few.
Most notable was the title story by Bruce Coville, where a young man questioning his orientation is offered three wishes by his fairy godfather (the spirit of Melvin, who was killed by gay bashers) and decides to fulfill the only great gay fantasy appropriate for a sixteen year old - everyone who is anything but 100% straight is shaded blue, the hue dependent on the extent of their orientation.
Lois Lowry's "Holding," about the son of a gay man finally coming out about his dad to his best friend, made me cry. The characters were exquisitely drawn, the pain of Willie's father, grieving the unexpected death of his partner, was sharp, and the rapport between Willie and his best friend was textured and compassionate.
Other stories explored parental conflict and acceptance (and sometimes rejection), questioning orientation and confirmed orientation, experimentation, education, or drew parallels between homophobia and anti-Semitism.
Times have changed since the publication of this anthology, partially in acceptance of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people, though there's still a long way to go. More significant a change is the impact of HIV/AIDS, at least in the West - no longer the rampant killer it was then, many HIV +ve people are able to keep the disease in remission with a complex medication regime and have a more normal life. This is not to say it isn't still a terrible disease, that it doesn't still kill, or that it doesn't matter, but for many people HIV/AIDS is now a chronic disease.
This is still a great collection of stories for teens, not only those questioning their sexual orientation, or confirmed in their non-heterosexuality, but also those interested in expanding their reading and conceptual horizons. - Alex

Lust – Geoff Ryman

Michael Blasco’s life is tranquil, predictable and okay. He’s quite excited about the research he’s begun, looking at the effects of imprinting on day-old chicks (as long as the animal rights people don’t find out), his relationship with would-be artist Philip is fifteen year old and seems much as it ever was, and his forays into anonymous sex fizzle but not in any new way.
Michael’s mildly disappointed when cherubic Tony the trainer at his gym announces his engagement – Michael always mildly fancied him, and the news spurs him on to yet another uneventful bathhouse trip. So when Michael sees Tony on the same platform at Waterloo station he’s surprised and a little piqued – in no mood for witnessing happiness and joy, all Michael really wants is to see Tony’s penis. He’s astonished when the Cherub pull down his tracksuit pants and boxers, rolls onto his back, and asks Michael if he “wants a piece.”
At first frankly flabbergasted, Michael discovers that he has the ability to bring to life a replica of any person he fancies, and they fancy him. Michael experiments with his newfound gift; from current fantasies to the objects of lust of his adolescence (Johnny Weismuller, Alexander the Great, Picasso) and even his younger self, it seems the only limitation is Michael’s imagination. And as he does so, Michael works through the end of his unhealthy, unequal relationship with Philip, and the traumatic event of his youth that forever tainted his sexuality.
When I was away a couple of months ago I discovered Ryman at a bookshop at Heathrow, and was surprised I hadn’t come across him before. I decided to hold off for the time being, as I was (and am), on a strict book budget, though it’s become a little flabby in the last few days. But I digress. I was, therefore, very pleased to discover that I actually had come across Ryman previously, though not read him, when I found Lust in an unopened box of unread books – who knows what other treasures dwell in the rest of the boxes!
It’s been a week since I finished Lust, and I’m still not sure what I think about it. The premise was interesting and the central characters (Michael, Philip and Philip’s new love, Henry) were developed. Of particular note was the unfolding of the underlying psychological aspects - where Michael’s problems stem from, and the unexpected identity of Henry. Yet despite this I didn’t really feel connected to the story, nor did I feel any great sense of resolution or satisfaction at the end. I’ll certainly try another Ryman novel (I’m considering Was, the blurb of which is similarly intriguing), but library not purchase. - Alex

Crossing Infinity - Karen Haber

Like all her friends, Jaz is hooked into the Surge through her earpods - the Surge tells her what's hot and what's not, minute to minute. She's pissed with her mother, who spends all her time at the Home with her demented grandmother, making her care for her half-brother, and Jaz is a little confused about the guy she's crushing on. That is until she finds the body of a guy half hidden in long grass - well, she thinks he's a guy but it's a little hard to be sure at first.
His name is Cory, a refugee from somewhere (she thinks maybe the Middle East) - he has nowhere to stay until Jaz takes him to the home of the most radical teacher at school, Mrs Sedlow, who agrees to take him in.
Corilanus is indeed a refugee - from a planet where his family and allies are under attack. Unlike humans, Cory's people can change gender, something not easily understood on a planet where we're (mostly) one thing or another.
This is a plot-driven, well-written and interesting novel for young adults that challenges our growing dependence on the Internet and associated technologies (says she who's addicted to facebook), and explores the notion of gender, strengths of each gender (which were curiously human-like for an alien) and the idea of binary sexuality rather than a continuum.
That said, I think more could have been made of Jaz's discomfort when Cory changes genders when they kiss, and I was puzzled by the idea (not fully discussed) that his people do end up with a primary gender. It seems as though Cory changes to female whenever s/he has a strong sensual experience - the scent of oranges, for example - but there was no indication of what would trigger a change from female to male. All in all, though an interesting novel. - Alex

Gay TV and Straight America - Ron Becker

In the late 1980's there were almost no gay characters on US sitcoms or dramas; by the end of the twentieth century a number of non-cable progrmas had gay and lesbian recurring and main characters, and almost every sitcom or drama had at least one gay-themed episode How and why did this change take place, and what implications does it have for the GLBTQ and straight communities?
This ambitious book attempts to place the growing portrayal of gay and lesbian characters in the social context of the nineties. The author discusses popular culture representation before and after this decade, discusses how characters are portrayed, examines 'homosexual panic' and how the definition of this term has been subverted to support straight men killing gay boys and men, the impact of 9/11 and more.
Though the topic and content are interesting, the text is less accessible that I had hoped, and is written in a very academic style. This may in part be due to the breadth of material covered, but was disappointing nonetheless. - Alex