"Beautifully written, a kaleidoscope of finely drawn characters and an unfolding mystery that reveals the hope and horror in the human heart."
-- Alan"Beautifully written, a kaleidoscope of finely drawn characters and an unfolding mystery that reveals the hope and horror in the human heart."
-- Alan Brennert, Author Honolulu, Moloka'i and Palisades Park
"...likely to be the best book you might not read this year...a gorgeous, genre-defying novel of heartrending truth...that builds slowly and confidently toward a page-turning climax that will leave you breathless..."
-- Stoker Award-winner Vince A. Liaguno, Dark Scribe Magazine
"Reminiscent of Stephen King...[Bens] is an author to watch."
If Alfred Hitchcock were alive today and desired to “re-imagine” his 1948 classic “Rope,” he’d want Robert Dunbar to write the screenplay. Guaranteed If Alfred Hitchcock were alive today and desired to “re-imagine” his 1948 classic “Rope,” he’d want Robert Dunbar to write the screenplay. Guaranteed.
Dunbar starts his impressive collection off with “Getting Wet,” a moody, tension-filled piece that does indeed measure up to my all time Hitch film, with Dunbar’s Con and Tim evoking the controlling Brandon and the nervous, needy Phillip. But this isn’t some re-tread of familiar material as, really, the two stories share little in common other than two fascinating lead characters and the realistic and dangerous relationship between them. Quite frankly, if anything, this is “Rope” with crack heads, and is completely and utterly engrossing.
When I finished this first story I knew I was in for a great ride with this collection and I wasn’t disappointed. Throughout the book, Dunbar maintains the tension, and creates some really wonderful characters that you want to visit with again. And that’s good, because in some cases the characters do come back to haunt you in other stories. Personally, I was happy to see Con and Tim reappear in “Are We Dead Yet?” which gives us even more insight into their characters and relationship. It serves as a prequel of sorts, but stands beautifully on its own.
Dunbar masterfully creates emotional reality just as well as he creates atmosphere, and each character in each story is brimming with emotion. Whether it’s a young man who deeply needs to protect his abusive brother in “High Rise,” or a Mother who will do anything to protect her children in “Gray Soil,” these are very real, human beings (even when they’re not) in extraordinary circumstances. In fact, if I could narrow it down to one theme that seems to run through this entire collection it is the overwhelming sense of need that appears to drive each character. There is something that they don’t just simply want or desire. There is an insistent need that drills into their bones and it is so palpable that it becomes almost an additional character in each of the stories. This is especially true with the boys in “Like a Story,” characters that indelibly etched in my mind. For me, the collection works the best when Dunbar sticks closest the the realistic emotional core of the characters. Lucky for us, he does that consistently.
Dunbar also gives us some nice moments of dark humor with “The Folly,” an out and out laugh from me in “Saturday Night Fights,” and anyone who has ever attended a comic book/sci-fi/horror convention will surely see some familiar faces (perhaps even their own?) in “Explanations,” which had me smiling all the way through despite the very dark center of it.
What I also appreciate about Dunbar’s work is that it is challenging. Dunbar doesn’t talk down to his readers, nor is he going to hold their hands through the stories. There may be times when the reader goes “wait, what the hell is going on?” but that has a wonderful effect of keeping the reader slightly off kilter as all the pieces come together in a satisfying conclusion.
The collection ends with “The Moon (Upside Down),” a wonderfully quiet piece of work, that evokes Armistead Maupin’s “Tales of the City” had those Barbary Lane characters been infused with a little darkness, a smidge of tarot, and an almost fatalistic outlook on life.
In the end, this collection will challenge you, move you, and make you hold your breath. It’s dark fiction, it’s horror, it’s character study, it’s literary fiction. And it’s damn good.
First, a disclaimer. This review covers the original publication of the novel and not the movie-tie in veOriginally reviewed for Uniquely Pleasurable.
First, a disclaimer. This review covers the original publication of the novel and not the movie-tie in version. The movie varies substantially (and is really rather dreadful) from the original novel and it is unknown if the tie-in version of the novel was rewritten to incorporate new information and/or details found in the movie.
The novel The Night Listener is Maupin’s fictional take on his interaction with Anthony Godby Johnson, a “young boy” who was presented as having been brutally abused as a child. Johnson wrote a book that was sent out in galley form to many celebrities, and like J.T. Leroy who would claim the same thing many years later (and subsequently be proven a massive hoax), the celebrities took to this boy, many becoming friends with him over the phone. You can read more about the cases by search out either Johnson or Leroy online.
I have to admit upfront that I am an unabashed fan of Maupin’s work. There is a simplicity to his prose that belies the emotional complexity of the characters he creates, and whether it be his series Tales of the City or his departures from that series like Maybe the Moon, it is rare for me to find fault in his work. There is also an almost Hitchcockian feel to the plots of his novels which, while never detracting from the almost whimsical tone of his stories, always creates a nice blend of genres. The Night Listener, however, is perhaps his greatest departure from this style: a dark and brooding look at loss and betrayal and the need for human contact. It can be a brutal read (a friend to whom I lent the book called it “one of the most depressing novels” she’d ever read). But what it also is is a novel which really explores the range that Maupin has as a storyteller, and makes him, in my mind, one of the best novelists out there, gay or straight.
Maupin is in thin disguise as Gabriel Noone, an author of radio stories who is at a turning point in his life when he makes contact with Pete Lomax, the stricken boy. Noone’s longtime lover–who never expected to survive the AIDS epidemic–has moved out, and while the romantic relationship has ended, the connection between Noone and his ex will be a lifelong one. Jess simply needs to find a life beyond waiting to die. But what it does for Noone is leave a huge hole in his life, an emotional and intellectual void that needs to be filled. So, when Noone connects by telephone with Pete and finds him to be a witty, well-spoken young man, a friendship begins to develop. Noone needs someone who adores him and Pete desperately needs a father figure.
Maupin brilliantly captures both Noone and Pete. The malaise Noone has found himself in is palpable, a man who suddenly finds himself feeling a no one (Noone) because he has lost the one person who has helped to define him for decades. Likewise, Maupin’s depiction of Pete is heartbreaking but utterly realistic. He is smart and funny, his humor as dark as his own past, and Maupin gets the pattern of speech of a teen boy exactly right. Though essentially a minor character, Noone’s ex Jess is also excellently drawn. Jess isn’t reduced to a cardboard cut-out. While was a saddened that he has decided to leave Noone, we completely understand his desire to get out there and see what life–a real life–holds for him. Pete’s adoptive mother–though a very minor character through the first half of the novel–is also flesh and blood. We feel the compassion that led her to adopt Peter. We understand her ferocious protectiveness of him. We even understand why she won’t let anyone meet him. And then, Maupin does something brilliant. He turns all that has come before on its head. Why hasn’t Donna let anyone meet him? Does Pete’s voice really sound all that similar to Donna’s? Surely, the editor of Pete’s book has checked out his story. Suddenly, we begin to suspect Pete. We begin to distrust Donna. Everything we have learned before we begin to question, and we feel deep down inside the conflict Noone feels.
What Maupin does so well in this book is make you care about this Pete (as, interestingly enough, had happened to Maupin and the other celebs Johnson had been in contact with), so that when doubt is cast upon his existence, you are as devastated as Noone. The result is a literary gut-punch. And Maupin expertly takes us from needing to believe Pete and Donna, to suspecting them. To wanting them to be real–for their own sakes as well as Noone’s–to needing them to be proven a hoax because the evidence of such a hoax is so remarkably overwhelming. It is a brilliant feat of writing…to make three characters (Noone, Pete and Donna) that you, as the reader, desperately want to believe. The result is a deeply psychological game of suspense that moves at a brisk pace, one that would make Hitchcock proud.
The Night Listener is not an easy read at all from an emotional standpoint. As a reader, a lot is demanded of you and you likely will feel worn out after reading it, but the ride is so worth it....more
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