Lists

Picture of a book: Confessions of a Mask
Picture of a book: Forbidden Colors
Picture of a book: The Coming Storm
Picture of a book: The Beauty of Men
Picture of a book: At Swim, Two Boys
Picture of a book: The Beautiful Room Is Empty
Picture of a book: The Spell
Picture of a book: Like People in History
Picture of a book: A Boy's Own Story
Picture of a book: Nausea
Picture of a book: Their Eyes Were Watching God
Picture of a book: The Bluest Eye
Picture of a book: We the Animals
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Picture of a book: Borrowed Time: An AIDS Memoir
books

Borrowed Time: An AIDS Memoir

Paul Monette
\ "What am I going to do without him?" I asked in a hollow voice, and Cope replied immediately, with great force and conviction. "Write about him, Paul," he said. "That's what you have to do."\ It's a book about LIFE and LOVE, not about death, emotional lines full of overwhelming sadness and grief and painful lost and regret and beautiful lyric and heartbreaking tenderness and touching memories...and LOVE, REAL LOVE. \ ...we never talked about dying because we were fighting so hard to stay alive.\ Paul Monette and Roger Horwitz\ No Goodbyesby Paul Monettefor hours at the end I kissed your temple strokedyour hair and sniffed it it smelled so clean we'dwashed it Saturday night when the fever brokeas if there was always the perfect thing to doto be alive for years I'd breathe your hairwhen I came to bed late it was such pure youwhy I nuzzle your brush every morning becauseyou're in there just like the dog the nightwe unpacked the hospital bag and he skippedand whimpered when Dad put on the redsweater Cover my bald spot will youyou'd say and tilt your head like a parrotso I could fix you up always alwaystill this one night when I was reduced toI love you little friend here I am mysweetest pea over and over spending all ourendearments like stray coins at a borderbut wouldn't cry then no choked it becausethey all said hearing was the last to gothe ear is like a wolf's till the very endstraining to hear a whole forest and Iwanted you loping off whatever you couldstill dream to the sound of me at 3 P.M.you were stable still our favorite wordat 4 you took the turn WAIT WAIT I AMTHE SENTRY HERE nothing passes as long asI'm where I am we go on death isa lonely hole two can leap it or elseor else there is nothing this man is minehe's an ancient Greek like me I doall the negotiating while he does battlewe are war and peace in a single bedwe wear the same size shirt it can't it can'tbe yet not this just let me brush his hairit's only Tuesday there's chicken in the fridgefrom Sunday night he ate he slept oh whydon't all these kisses rouse you I won't won'tsay it all I will say is goodnight pattinga few last strands in place you're covered nowmy darling one last graze in the meadowof you and please let your final dream bea man not quite your size losing the wholeworld but still here combing combingsinging your secret names till the night's gone\
Picture of a book: Faggots
books

Faggots

Larry Kramer
I wonder why I never reviewed Faggots before? Oh, that's right, I was scared to! Because if I recommend it very strongly, which I would very much like to do, and people here actually give it a go, I might end up with swathes of people defriending me on the spot and writing rude comments on my profile. So : don't read this if you have a nervous disposition. Please! Because Larry Kramer will discombobulate your psychosexual equilibrium. He will make you boggle, along the lines of do guys really do that? followed swiftly by can guys really do that?? oh my - pass the smelling salts, Ethel.This is a pre-Aids novel which hilariously satirised fast-track New York gay life in the 70s. You laugh, you cringe, you may barf, and you end up really liking most of these guys. I mean - the fun they had! The drugs they took! But larry actually wanted them to STOP! RIGHT NOW! or at least SLOOOOW DOWWWWN. He was the lone voice saying to gay men - this hectic crazy unlimited drugs&sex&discoballs lifestyle is gonna hit a brick wall soon. Larry didn't know what the brick wall would be, he just felt it in his bones. All his pals though he was just mean old party pooper Larry. Only a few short years after Faggots was published, along came Aids, and Larry was like hate to say this guys but I told you so and they were all aw shit Larry, you so did, you jerk. So Larry became a big Aids campaigner and wrote a play called The Normal Heart which was not that good but got a lot of attention and he became a polemicist, fighting several good fights. And he's still alive!Back to Faggots. Here’s a quote from the author:"The straight world thought I was repulsive, and the gay world treated me like a traitor. People would literally turn their back when I walked by. You know what my real crime was? I put the truth in writing. That's what I do: I have told the fucking truth to everyone I have ever met."If you read this novel, which as you know I’m not sure you should, it depends, you will see why it produced such an uproar. It’s merciless. It’s excruciating. Gay men are not shown in a good light. They are shown to be shallow, vain, and like a lot of well-dressed bunny-rabbits who’ve been reading too much Marquis de Sade for their own good. I didn’t know any of this stuff when I read it, and I can see why they might want straight people not to know this stuff. These days, thirty years on from the late 70s, maybe people do know this stuff, but maybe not as well. So it still might shock. But it’s funny. It made me howl. And shudder. And howl. So, give it fifty pages. Page 47 might be the deal-breaker.
Picture of a book: The Folding Star
books

The Folding Star

Alan Hollinghurst
Boy, am I SOO enchanted with this elusive Mr. Hollinghurst! Although “The Folding Star” is definitely weaker and less “literary” than the rest (“Swimming-Pool Library,” “The Line of Beauty”), it still has that tight and elegant mechanical heart which impels the modern reader to want to just sit down to read it, badly (I myself had to actively hunt the book down: I got the original U.S. first edition for 99 cents on Ebay). Yes, this is the least best in his enviable oeuvre—but it happens to have the raunchiest scenes, the most explicit, the most inciting (!!!) Hollinghurst’s vocabulary is mad impressive, like reading a Victorian novel where all the characters become entangled/infatuated with others, all who happen to be men—the smuttiest of events are portrayed beautifully, with all details exquisite. It's like a youthful “Death in Venice”, with tragedy less present than wit (although aging IS a theme). No one else can write like this, or can depend on the gay world so profoundly for authenticity and plot; to bring out the poetry so implicit in cruisin’ European streets, in meeting young, eager lads who have but one thought uniting them in an almost-religious fervor is not an easy feat.This is as if Henry James & Tom of Finland ever got together & had a joyous, gay old time…Books like these are super hard to come by (trust me, I know). Invaluable. Always extraordinary in their originality and always wicked fun.