I must admit, I am woefully under-read when it comes to lesbian fiction; so this review will not so much be based on specifics of the genre, but upon I must admit, I am woefully under-read when it comes to lesbian fiction; so this review will not so much be based on specifics of the genre, but upon readability and the enjoyment the story brings. And on that front, author Thomas excels, delivering a thoroughly entertaining read for the beach or the living room.
Margaret "Ret" Butler is running the once glorious Gay Banana, a resort just outside of Palm Springs that her father and mother had once made into the social hot-spot. There were glamorous parties held here, with alluring women and classic gentlemen. Now, its days of being the place to be seen are far behind it, but the resort still manages to eek out a meager existence. But Ret has a problem. The deadline her father had given her to turn the resort around is fast approaching and, unless Ret takes some drastic action, ownership of the Gay Banana will revert to him. And who knows what Daddy will do with this magnificent place that Ret still finds romantic.
But things get complicated. One of the gentlemen Ret considers going into partnership with is a young genius...a snotty, know-it-all youth who sets her ill at ease with his cockiness and the slightly shady and mysterious business practices that just seems to hover about him. To make matters worse, Daddy has gone missing and Ret's high-society, no-nonsense mother--convinced he is cheating on her--is plotting his death. But let's not stop there. Enter Billie: the most beautiful and enigmatic woman ever to have visited the Gay Banana during its hey-day who returns after more than a decade just to see Ret. Will the Gay Banana survive? Will Mother get her way? Will Daddy turn up or just turn up dead? And what about the alluring Billie? Believe it or not, it all comes together in the end. But you'll have to read it to find out how.
In this debut novel, Ret is our narrator and Thomas imbues her with a wonderful voice: a little bit edgy, a little bit lost romantic. The style is a bit stream of conscious which only adds to the charm of Ret's character and adds much of the humor. Ret ping-pongs a bit between the unraveling--and at times overwhelming--developments in her life. She's pulled in all directions by a demanding (and funny as hell) mother, a concerned staff, and two potential business partners. And when Billie enters the scene, there is a wonderful romance between the two that is believable and charming, and which helps to create the romance and glamour of the bygone days of the Gay Banana. We see why the old place is so important to Ret and why she wants so desperately to save it.
The prose reads swiftly and easily and I found myself smiling through most of it and enjoying the various red-herrings that Thomas throws out in the story. Now, it's not the perfect novel: I would like to have seen some of those red herrings played out and I longed to see a bit more of the past (and present) relationship between Ret and Billie, but in the end, this novel charmed me to no end. It's a wonderfully fun novel, a breezy read with a little romance, a smidge of mystery and an infectious spirit. ...more
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest instaBarbary Lane Lives On
It’s a complete coincidence that I ended up in San Francisco just days before Mary Ann in Autumn, Armistead Maupin’s latest installment of the Tales of The City series, was released. The trip was planned well before I ever knew the release date of the novel, but once I learned of the close proximity of the two events, my trip to the Bay Area transformed into a pilgrimage of sorts to Maupin’s endearing and iconic works, Mrs. Madrigal, Michael “Mouse” Tolliver, and all the denizens of the Tales of the City.
After walking all the way from Market and Powell, getting lost, and going up and down Russian Hill at the grand old age of 46, I found myself, winded and sweating, standing on the steps of Macondray Lane—the real life inspiration for the house that has been etched into my psyche for so long—hoping to capture a little bit of the magic of that literary world. And it’s only fitting that in the opening chapter of Mary Ann in Autumn, the titular character, Mary Ann Singleton, finds herself climbing those same stairs to catch a glimpse of her former home, 28 Barbary Lane. With a wistfulness and longing, the 57 year-old stares through the locked gate of the property, similarly trying to recapture the magic that had been her past life, one she abandoned so many years ago along with her husband and adoptive daughter.
With that scene, Maupin perfectly sets the tone for Mary Ann in Autumn, a sweet and solid entry in the Tales of the City mythos that is part nostalgia (for both the readers and the character of Mary Ann), and a deceptively simple exploration of the desire for one person to discover who they truly are after pursuing who they thought they wanted to be.
Mary Ann has returned to San Francisco after some shocking revelations in her personal life, and the first person she contacts is her old friend, Mouse, now happily married to the younger Ben. From the moment Maupin brings the two together, their voices are as if they have never been apart, easily falling into the playful (and sometimes serious) banter that made them an endearing couple of friends in the original works. And here is where the novel succeeds best: the rekindling of that relationship and the literary rehabilitation of Mary Ann.
In the original Tales novel and early sequels, Mary Ann Singleton was an immensely likable young woman, a naïve transplant to San Francisco from the bastion of conservatism, Cleveland. Her journey as she discovered who she was and how she reacts to a city as free as 1970s San Francisco was funny, charming, mysterious and a little bit sad. But starting in the 4th book in the series, Babycakes, Mary Ann found herself in search of a career and she became a not-so-likable person, one who seemed willing to turn her back on family and friends. It was disheartening for me as a reader to see Mary Ann transformed such. Now, don’t get me wrong…it was utterly true to life. How many times have we all had someone in our lives who is incredibly dear to us who gets caught up in the desire to be something more and becomes someone we don’t like so much any more? There was nothing at fault in Maupin’s writing of those later three novels. It was spot on. I simply didn’t want to see a dear, wonderful friend become someone I didn’t like. I wanted her to always stay Mary Ann. And that, alone, is a testament to Maupin and the character he created. I never wanted her to change.
In Mary Ann in Autumn, though, we find a character who is, again, at a turning point. As she approaches the autumn of her life, she has obviously been taking stock, looking closely at her past choices, the repercussions of some not-so-great actions. In trying to find a way forward, she is looking back at the people she has left behind, one of whom happens to be herself. And she finds that little bit of herself, again. Don’t get me wrong, Maupin doesn’t magically convert Mary Ann back to whom she was. He doesn’t absolve her of her sins. She’s older, wiser, still a bit self-absorbed, but it almost feels as if she is exhaling all the inconsequential crap that has been in her life, so that she can breathe in again. And it is exactly in her relationship to Mouse that Maupin so expertly let’s us like Mary Ann again, perhaps understand her a bit more.
Maupin also adds in outsiders, those who never knew the Mary Ann we all loved, to help in this rehabilitation, namely Mouse’s husband, Ben who is a bit suspicious of this woman and her effect on Michael. Through him—someone without the shared history—we get to learn this new Mary Ann. As Mouse himself says to Ben “Look, I know you think she’s a drama queen, but she’s had some actual drama.”
Now, in any Tales novel, a reader expects some humor, a little bit of mystery and wonderful characters. Maupin is in excellent form here, capturing everything we readers have loved about Tales, but never once relying on our nostalgia for the series. His 2010 San Francisco is just as vibrant and alive as his San Francisco of the 70s and 80s. It has simply grown and changed, morphed into something different, no less charming or infections as its previous incarnation.
In the mystery department, Maupin gives us Shawna, Mary Ann’s estranged, adoptive daughter, now a popular sex-blogger looking for a new direction in her life. She fixates on an old homeless woman named Leia, and stumbles onto a mystery that she must solve, a mystery that gives us readers a genuine aha! moment or two that is richly satisfying. But that’s not all…Facebook figures into it all as well, giving us yet another jolt that can’t be revealed in a review. Now I tend to pride myself on figuring out twists and turns, but Maupin honestly got me on these. I didn’t have it figured out until it was very clear that Maupin wanted me to. Perhaps I was just naive, but I was genuinely taken by surprise by the twists.
In the character department, Mrs. Madrigal is still with us and although her role is somewhat limited, she’s just as pithy as always, each of her “dears” just warming my heart, and her spirit is richly pepered throughout the novel. DeDe Halcyon makes an appearance, as does D’or. And Maupin augments the Barbary Lane family with Jake Greenleaf, an immensely appealing trans-man, Michael’s Ben, and Shawna’s adorable and patient boyfriend Otto. These are all welcome additions to the family, feeling as natural as the characters we’ve all known for year.
Now, I have read a few reviews that mention the conspicuous absence of Brian Hawkins (Mary Ann’s ex-husband and father of Shawna) and those who have read Michael Tolliver Lives know that the beloved Mona is no longer with us. But I never felt their absence in this novel because Maupin has expertly woven their spirits into the work. Mona is there…a large part of her spirit embodied in Shawna…and Brian is present as well, aspects of his personality richly resonant in two of the new characters. One might even spot a younger version of Mouse or, perhaps, a successor to Mrs. Madrigal.
In the end, Mary Ann in Autumn is still a love-letter to San Francisco. It’s still a wonderfully magical series that, I think, Maupin has reinvented for the new millennium. He shows us that you can indeed go home again, though that home will have changed and grown just as we have. Most importantly, he shows us that while 28 Barbary Lane may have become a single-family dwelling, its spirit is still strong. Because 28 Barbary Lane isn’t so much a time or a place, some clapboard building at the top of a set of rickety stairs…28 Barbary Lane is our “logical family,” the family we’ve created and carry with us always, no matter where we may be.
One of the most challenging and satisfying reads of recent years. The attention to detain, the dedication to character voice and the scope and breadthOne of the most challenging and satisfying reads of recent years. The attention to detain, the dedication to character voice and the scope and breadth of this novel are astounding. A modern classic and a must read....more
**spoiler alert** An engaging book about a young man and his father coming to terms with their sexuality at the same time. Adapted fairly faithfully b**spoiler alert** An engaging book about a young man and his father coming to terms with their sexuality at the same time. Adapted fairly faithfully by the BBC (I believe) into a movie starring Brian Cox....more
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would hMy review from 2008
To be perfectly honest, if I were prowling the aisle of my local literary chain and came across this book on the shelves, I would have given a little laugh at the cleverness of the title; I might even have flipped it over to read the dust jacket. Ultimately, however, I would have passed it by without a second thought. Not my cup of tea, I would have thought. And I would have been so much the worse for having thought so. I didn’t know what to expect when I started reading this novel. I wasn’t sure if it would be a romance, a male/male bodice ripper, or a Pythonian take on erotica, all of which could have gone horribly wrong given the core premise. In the end, what I got was immensely satisfying….a deeply moving story of love, of friendship, of recognizing the things that make us different while still managing to find those commonalities that bind us together. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a perfect novel and I do have a few gripes, but none are egregious and none detract from a story that is expertly told.
The plot is, at its core, a science fiction and fantasy staple. A stranger in a strange land, captured by those who don’t understand who or what he is, who has to find a way not only to escape his captors, but also some method of getting back home again. We’ve seen riffs on it in everything from Pierre Boulee’s La planète des singes to L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and countless other novels over the years. What separates the wheat from the chaff in this genre, however, is execution and that is where I was an alien cat toy excels. It doesn’t suffer from the oppressive dystopia of Boulee’s work or the sometime sickly sweetness of Baum’s; instead, it finds a comfortable balance between those two classics. Pyr Temin is our stranger, a pilot who, on a routine inter-galaxy supply mission, runs into trouble with his engines and crash lands on U67809, a planet which had once been home to a seed-colony of humans that had gone missing some 500 years before. Surviving the crash, Temin determines that his ship was sabotaged and that the damage makes returning home on his own impossible. Depressed at the nearly inevitable possibility of never seeing his family — or his lover, Jeng — again and having few other choices, he sets his transmitters to loop an SOS and sets out into the planet’s brutal winter to find food and shelter. It isn’t long before Temin comes across some of the planet’s indigenous life forms, primate-like beings that he attempts to hunt, with slightly comic results. Yet, the hunter becomes the hunted and the primates scatter as a low growl fills the air. Temin has only moments to think before the huge claws are headed his way: of all the ways he was going to die on this planet death by giant cat wasn’t on the shefting list.
The next time we see Temin is several day later, after he has been made a pet in the home a Kadit, the matriarch of a clan of Daiyne, the cat-people who inhabit this world. Temin is not, Kadit has decided, an ideal pet, far too boisterous and too much trouble for her. She convinces her son, Gredar, one of the clan’s older and most respected males, to take the odd looking “jopa.” Reluctant at first but always obedient to his mother, Gredar takes the naked and frightened Temin into his life. And this is where the story truly begins.The author cleverly uses short segments of each chapter to alternate between Gredar’s point of view and Temin’s as each tries to assess the other. Here the author avoids the Rashomon effect, sidestepping a storytelling method that has become somewhat of a cliché in literature and films. The author wisely chooses not to use the change of POV as a literary trick of rehashing what has come before, but rather as a device to keep the story moving at a smooth pace.
The result is that we see the characters through the other’s eyes, each scene building on the one that came before it. Gredar is fascinated by his new pet, by his intelligence, his hairless features which are strangely alluring. Temin, on the other hand, is terrified of these giant cats and his oversized “prison” and is intent on escape; yet, he also recognizes in Gredar a gentle, intelligent soul who is treating him better than his previous “owners.” The structure provides the reader with an almost bird’s eye view of the delicate dance that goes on between our two protagonists as they learn that they may not be so terribly different from one another. Soon, a tentative trust is born and slowly it begins to give way to a friendship that is mutual, far deeper than a master or his pet loving the other. However, while Gredar is away for a time, he entrusts the care of his “pet” to one of his grooming mates — the arrogant and impulsive younger male, Filwui — who mistreats Temin in one of the most vile ways possible.
The author captures Temin’s sense of betrayal and Gredar’s attendant guilt in heartbreaking, yet utterly realistic ways. There’s palpable sense of loss after this incident, a mourning of the near destruction of the trust that has slowly built between Gredar and Temin. But rather than let it lapse into a malaise that only fuels Temin’s desire to escape and turn the piece into a hollow action-romp, the author uses the event to bring the two characters even closer together when Gredar discovers that Temin has a language all his own. The journey of the two as they discover each other’s words is exquisite in every way, leading the characters to a fuller understanding of one another. After a time, the readers find themselves knowing Gredar’s language and slowly and quietly, the dual POVs meld together flawlessly as the barriers between them fall away.
Will Temin’s lover Jeng ever rescue him? Will he ever see his home and his family again? Or has he found a new home, a new family, a new lover?
Okay, so let’s start with the gripes, minor though they be. At the beginning of the story, Temin believes that his ship had been sabotaged, and wisely the author doesn’t dwell on this as it isn’t really essential to the story at hand. However, later in the novel it is revealed that the ship was indeed sabotaged. The resulting scene is rather expository in nature, an almost forced tying up of loose strings that was a bit of a disconnect for me. Personally, I felt that aspect of the story — and the expository scene — either needed to be excised from the story or integrated as a significant plot element.
As for Temin’s lost lover, Jeng, he is a presence always in Temin’s mind; yet, I didn’t really know enough about him — or his life with Temin — to really feel what the loss of him meant. He really was a bit of a ghost of a character for me and given that the author lovingly crafts such vivid characters in Temin, Gredar, Kadit and their feline family, the result is that when the possibility arises that Jeng might come looking for Temin, I instinctively didn’t like the character…without ever having met him. But, as I said these are minor, minor flaws.
In lesser hands, this story could have been reduced to an entertaining, yet vacuous story. But Somerville weaves in immensely likeable characters in Temin and Gredar, who are so richly drawn that you forget they are of different species. Both are dynamic characters, funny and frightening, unique and sympathetic. And each exudes a sensuality about them that never feels forced…it is simply at the core of their beings.
Somerville’s devotion to her characters doesn’t start and end with the leads. Each of the characters is equally full, from the authoritarian Kadit, to the loveably obsessed clan historian Martek; even Filwui escapes the cardboard-potential that villainy so often entails. Each character is multi-faceted and their motivations — while not always approvable — are completely understandable. The result is that we as readers are given a depth of character and emotion that I haven’t seen much of in the limited amount of fantasy/science fiction I have read of late.
The world building Somerville undertakes is equally impressive. Without resulting to purple prose or the tedious technicalities of layout, she crafts Ptane (the planet’s proper name) and the Daiyne village with such detail that you can see it all perfectly in your head.
Like all good sci-fi/fantasy there is some social commentary in the novel as well. Somerville’s depiction of a matriarchal society and its political structure are deftly drawn, and the story has much to say about the state of the human animal — both through her depiction of Temin and the Daiyne. However, while some writers in the genre insist on hammering home their “message,” Somerville is content to use a very light hand, allowing the reader to take what they will from the piece.
Now for those who like a little sex with their romance, you will indeed find it here and I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. I’m rather a prude when it comes to sex, but I freely admit I found the sexual encounters to be intriguing and very, very hot. So hot, I was almost, honestly, a little disturbed by my reaction to it. I think the effectiveness of these scenes is largely credited to the emotional realism of the relationship and the characters that Somerville has created here. The sex is not in any way gratuitous or full of bumbling lusty fantasies. It is fluid and loving and languorous. Best of all, it serves a purpose and was exactly where I wanted the characters to be at that moment.
While all of the piece is well done, where the novel excels the most is in the stunning creation of the bond between Gredar and Temin and the resulting friendships between Temin and the rest of the clan. The result is an honest to God love story, set in a fantasy world, yet grounded in the very real, believable human emotion of the “human” family. There’s a timelessness to I was an alien cat toy, and while there may be no place like home, Somerville — with love and humor and pathos — reminds us that our family, our home, is most often what we make of it....more
Having grown up on a steady diet of Hitchcock (films and TV show), the Twilight Zone, Outer Limits and Night Gallery, I've always had a penchant for hHaving grown up on a steady diet of Hitchcock (films and TV show), the Twilight Zone, Outer Limits and Night Gallery, I've always had a penchant for horror and suspense, both in film and in literature. And it is perhaps because of growing up with these influences that horror seldom actually scares me. It is rare for me to read a book or see a movie and get chills down my neck or to worry what might be lurking on the other side of the door in my dark apartment as I read. I just know it all too well. I'm jaded that way. And I have to say, that Lee Thomas' extraordinary collection of short stories is no exception. None of the stories actually scared me....they did something better....they disturbed me.
One of the things that I love about the horror genre is that it -- like sci-fi -- when done well is one of the most interesting and entertaining ways of examining the human condition. Thomas, who has quickly and deservedly become the writer to watch in the dark fiction genre, shows himself to be a master of this with In the Closet, Under the Bed. Each one of these stories is incredibly crafted, with tight, clean prose that evokes mood--sometime brooding, other times ominous and even comedic at times--and creates wonderfully well-rounded characters. These are characters that each of us have met at one time or another in our lives...and perhaps more intriguing is that at times these are characters we ourselves may have been.
And that is what disturbed me so much about Lee Thomas' stories...I'm in them. Not in every story, but in a fair number, I find myself there. Little aspects of who I am creep in that feel familiar, whether it is the man who hides behind his computer...or his career...or his wife and kids. Finding pieces of myself in these stories made me squirm inside as I read, and at times made me angry or uncomfortable to the point of saying "I don't want to read anymore!" But, of course, I read anyway. Because I had to know how it turned out for them and, in a small way, for me.
Now part of this connection to the characters may be that Thomas is certainly writing characters with a gay perspective. But as I read on, I found a universality to the stories. A point where I sat back and realized that a lot of my straight friends would love this book as well. Because I recognized little pieces of them in there as well. And that was creepy, too.
Now, not every story worked perfectly for me. The more experimental pieces left me feeling a bit empty, but that really is more a comment about my particular preference than Thomas' authorial skill. But even in the very few pieces I didn't love, I still walked away thinking, wrapping my head around the subtle themes that run through each story.
That is also what Thomas does so well with this collection. He entertains the hell out of you, but underneath it, he lays in a subtle commentary on the human condition, and in particular, the gay human condition. There are stories about being in the closet, about the 21st century's love for disposability in products and relationships, about growing older. But the beautiful thing is that it is done so subtly, not only do you not notice it until the story is over...what Thomas is weaving in there is wonderfully malleable, open for interpretation. After I read all the stories, I ran through the Foreword and the Afterword and the nuances of theme that David Thomas Lord and Michael Rowe discuss therein--as often as not--were very different than my own interpretation. And that...that is what makes wonderful fiction and impressive dark fiction. Each of us gets to see what they want to see.
In the end, this comes together as one of the most impressive collections of dark fiction I've read in recent years. I understand the reputation that Thomas has earned. Boy has he earned it. It's all right here in these 15 stories. Because what Thomas does so well is to remind us that late at night when we're alone, the most disturbing thing that we can find lurking in the closet or under the bed might just be ourselves. ...more
A series of interconnected stories from Ann Somerville. Strong on plot and character with great tension between the two male leads and fascinating worA series of interconnected stories from Ann Somerville. Strong on plot and character with great tension between the two male leads and fascinating world building. As usual, Somerville works in social commentary that's a hallmark of good sci-fi. Incredibly entertaining, reminding me of the serials I used to watch on TV when I was a kid. Great fun with a bite to it as well....more
Brilliant. See my reviews of the two stories ("On Wings Rising" and "Reaching Higher") for more details, but having these two together in print in a wBrilliant. See my reviews of the two stories ("On Wings Rising" and "Reaching Higher") for more details, but having these two together in print in a wonderful thing....more
Historical gay fiction doesn't get better than this. Appealing characters, expert setting, and dialog that reads true to the period. Read this book. IHistorical gay fiction doesn't get better than this. Appealing characters, expert setting, and dialog that reads true to the period. Read this book. It is outstanding....more
The Haunted Heart and Other Tales is not your typical single-author ghost-story anthology. That's to say that it isn't your typical ghost-story antholThe Haunted Heart and Other Tales is not your typical single-author ghost-story anthology. That's to say that it isn't your typical ghost-story anthology of today. This collection harkens back to days of "gentler" ghost-stories, the type of ghost stories that I grew up on. In fact, as I was reading this, the style reminded me very much of Ambrose Bierce crossed with the old Alfred Hitchcock magazine stories. (Interestingly, going back and reading the foreword and afterword, these appear to be some of Currier's influences). This is not a bad thing. This, to me, is a very good thing.
Readers expecting today's traditional ghost-story line-up might be a bit disappointed in this collection, but what Currier has done is gone back to the type of stories he (and I) enjoyed in his youth. Stories where the ghost is not only an apparition, but a metaphor, a commentary on various aspects of humanity. In that respect, the title of the collection is perfect in that this is about Haunted people; not necessarily ghosts that terrorize the reader.
Some of the stories do work better than others, but there really isn't a bad story here. A few tweaks with pacing might have helped to liven up those with which I connected less, and I would have liked a little more "show" rather than "tell" in a few of them, but again this goes back to the source of inspiration, being particularly evocative of Bierce. Most effective are those stories which have a strong through line with the AIDS epidemic; the experience of living though it or not; of having survived it or not. There is exceptional emotion here and Currier uses the ghost-story milieu to look deep into the human soul and psyche.
In the end, the ghosts in Currier's gentle collection didn't give me chills or frighten me, but what they did do is leave me haunted. Just as the title promised....more
For years, Sean Meriwether has served as editor of two of the most cutting-edge web magazines out there: Outsider Ink (now shuttered) and Velvet MafiaFor years, Sean Meriwether has served as editor of two of the most cutting-edge web magazines out there: Outsider Ink (now shuttered) and Velvet Mafia: Dangerous Queer Fiction. During his time with both markets, Meriwether has found exceptional literature by some of the best writers working. Occasionally he's also thrown one of his own works into the mix and that is how I first discovered Meriwether as an author in his own right. Over the years, Meriwether has been amassing an enviable body of work and that, my friends, is a very good thing for us.
I've always enjoyed Meriwether's stories and I've always known that he is a damn good writer, but until I read his collected works in The Silent Hustler, I didn't fully realize just how exceptional a writer he is. When you read one of Meriwether's works as a stand-alone, you always come away satisfied, perhaps a little (and sometimes a lot) aroused, and definitely emotionally affected, though on the latter you might never quite be able to put your finger on the emotions you are feeling or how Meriwether pulled them out of you. His prose is clean and evocative, creating place and time with the simplest turns of a phrase, and his dialog is impeccable, sounding like real men in very real situations. There are no contrivances here. Not of character. Not of story. No manipulation. Just straight out stories about real people. And when read together as a whole, these works blend seamlessly together to take us on a really interesting and varied journey of growing, becoming and living as a gay man.
The journey starts off with the "literary" (although, honestly, all of it is literary) "Things I Can't Tell My Father." It's part tribute, part indictment, and an always honest look at a father and his son. It's alternately melancholic and funny, touching and bitter, joyful and sad. It also serves as a cautionary tale of how one's actions make your children who they become even if you don't realize it. It packs an emotional wallop, but it isn't heavy handed. And that's the key to this collection. It's understated. There's no manufactured drama here, it's all very real and quietly, almost subversively, effective.
Many of the pieces in this collection would be classified as "erotica," and let me tell you it is erotica in the very best sense of the word. The majority of the stories are sizzling hot, but what I appreciate about each one is that Meriwether never loses the men behind the acts. Unlike much erotica these days these days, Meriwether keeps his characters firmly rooted in their realities. Character never suffers for the sex and, most importantly, Meriwether imbues every single story with the emotional impetus for the sex. Whether it's melancholia, insecurity or unbridled lust that drives the characters towards the sex, it is never superfluous. Take for example "www.menschangingroom.com." Man, this is a hot, erotic piece, but as we draw to a close, Meriwether reveals the emotion that leads out narrator to that site. "Sneaker Queen" is another one that—pun completely intended—sneaks up on you. I don't want to say much more than that. Needless to say, even with the most erotic pieces in this collection, you are going to get a wonderful depth of character and emotion to go along with all the steamy bits. And that makes the sex all that more fulfilling doesn't it?
Now, when one reads a single author anthology it is inevitable that you hit a story that just doesn't speak to you, one that you might secretly skim to the end. I've done it with some of my favorite authors. Well, I can honestly say that there is not a single story in this collection that doesn't work. Each is so incredibly nuanced that you want to savor every word. That's the brilliance of Meriwether's writing…he gives a lot in it and keeps you right there with the characters.
Perhaps—for me, anyway—the story that best represents the complexity of Meriwether's work and this collection is "So Long Anita Bryant And Thanks For Everything." Boy this story packs a lot in. It is incredibly touching, instantly recreating the time of the "Save our Children" campaign Bryant waged against us, and incredibly sexy all at once. Meriwether manages to capture how Bryant demoralized and vilified us, yet also unintentionally empowered us to fight for what should be ours. We also get to experience (or, in the case of us older folks, relive), the wide-eyed innocence of realizing there are others like us out there, that we aren't freaks, and the headiness of realizing—on an sexual level--that there are so many of us out there. And when the narrator announces, "I'm here to fight Anita Bryant," your heart swells with the young man's newfound pride. It's a story of innocence lost, pride discovered and adulthood born. A brilliant piece.
In the end, all the pieces work together—not something that can be aid of every single-author collection—blending seamlessly together to take us on an interesting, erotic, emotional and most importantly a literary journey of growing, becoming and living as a gay man. A tour de force that is not to be missed. 10 out of 10 stars. ...more
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