MEN ON MEN 2
Best New Gay Fiction 1988
edited by George Stambolian
Plume / NAL Books • New York
1988
MEN ON MEN 2
Best New Gay Fiction 1988
edited by George Stambolian
First Edition Nov 1988
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A Plume / New American Library Book, New York
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1988 by the individual authors and as follows:
• Introduction by George Stambolian
• “Snapshot” by Allen Barnett. First published in Christopher Street. Copyright © 1986 by Allen Barnett.
• “Life Sucks, or Ernest Hemingway Never Slept Here” by Tim Barrus.
• “Anything You Want” by Christopher Coe.
• “The Boys in the Bars” by Christopher Davis. First published in Christopher Street. Copyright © 1987 by Christopher Davis.
• “Red Leaves” by Melvin Dixon.
• “The Age of Anxiety” by David B. Feinberg. First published in Mandate. Copyright © 1986, 1988 by David B. Feinberg.
• “Why People Get Cancer” by Anderson Ferrell. First published in The Mississippi Review. Copyright © 1986 by Anderson Ferrell.
• “Magic” by Gary Glickman.
• “Nobody’s Child” by David Groff.
• “Adult Art” by Allan Gurganus.
• “Once in Syracuse” by David Brendan Hopes. First published in The James White Review. Copyright © 1986, 1988 by David Brendan Hopes.
• “Solidarity” by Albert Innaurato.
• “AYOR” by David Leavitt. Copyright © 1987 by David Leavitt.
• “My Mother’s Clothes: The School of Beauty and Shame” by Richard McCann. First published in The Atlantic Monthly. Copyright © 1986 by Richard McCann.
• “I Go Back to the Mais Oui” by James McCourt. First published in Christopher Street. Copyright © 1987 by James McCourt.
• “Jungle Dove” by Joseph Pintauro. First published in Christopher Street. Copyright © 1987, 1988 by Joseph Pintauro.
• “In This Comer . . .” by James Purdy. First published in Christopher Street. Copyright © 1986 by James Purdy.
• “Dancing on Tishe B’Av” by Lev Raphael. First published in Shmate. Copyright © 1985, 1987 by Lev Raphael.
Lyrics from the song “I Love Men,” written by Bruce Vilanch, composed by Jacques Morali and Fred Zarr, and extracted from the album I Love Men by Eartha Kitt, appear in the story “AYOR”, by David Leavitt. Used by permisssion of Scorpio Music (Black Scorpio) Sacem. All Rights Reserved.
MEN ON MEN 2
Best New Gay Fiction 1988
EDITED AND WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY GEORGE STAMBOLIAN
TODAY’S BEST GAY FICTION
This extraordinary collection of gay fiction builds on the enormous success of MEN ON MEN as a testament to the continuing vitality of this literary phenomenon. Now, eighteen short stories—eight never before published—by the acknowledged masters and bright new voices of gay literature show MEN ON MEN 2 to be part of the cutting edge—not just of gay fiction, but of contemporary American literature.
While many of the stories deal with the intense struggle AIDS has produced between love and fear, others give new insights into the ageless problems of family life—especially the relationship between fathers and sons—and offer passionate, often eloquent perceptions on the search for love, identity and a sense of community. David Leavitt's psychologically uncompromising portrait of uneasy friendship and sexual dependency explores the erotic boundaries of gay life. Joseph Pintauro's provocative story of men in prison dramatizes a disturbing form of sexual initiation, while Albert Innaurato's humorous account of a Gay Pride parade reveals the strengths and frailties of people caught in a time of disruptive change.
In this eagerly awaited new volume of gay fiction, vibrant voices speak out on a diverse range of immediate and timeless themes, revitalizing today's literature with new visions and new truths.
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR MEN ON MEN 2
“This fine book shows that gay writers are learning to discover precious sources of humor and vitality even in a reality that is black and bitter.”
—Edmund White,
author of A Boy's Own Story
“This collection includes some of the hottest (in other words, coolest) stories I’ve read anywhere. MEN ON MEN 2 is a rich late-eighties mix of love and death.”
—Brad Gooch,
author of Scary Kisses
PRAISE FOR THE FIRST MEN ON MEN
“A SUPERB SELECTION. . . . ALTOGETHER, THE BEST GAY FICTION AROUND.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“THE SPECIAL PATHOS, THE AMBIGUOUS HOPELESSNESS, THE SURREALIST COURAGE AND WIT THAT EMANATE FROM THESE PAGES ARE UNIQUE TO THE GAY MALE AUTHOR TODAY... He is a writer beleaguered and thus must be heeded. The humor and sorrow of his words stem from the mystery of the AIDS plague as surely as Boccaccio’s Decameron stemmed from the Bubonic Plague, and every one of us can learn from him.”
—Ned Rorem
“SOME OF THE BEST GAY FICTION, PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE. . . . It’s a treat to have it conveniently collected. And it’s a treat to read. Hopefully the word will now spread about the riches of gay writing.”
—Martin Bauml Duberman,
Distinguished Professor of History
Lehman College of the City University of New York
“A DAZZLING COLLECTION OF SOME OF THE BEST NEW FICTION I’VE READ IN YEARS... should be of interest to all readers who are interested in the contemporary world and in contemporary literature.”
—Julia Markus
“MEMORABLE... NOTHING IN THIS COLLECTION SHOULD BE OVERLOOKED . . . DESERVES WIDE READERSHIP.”
—James Purdy
“A survey course of the very best gay fiction that is available today and one that deserves all the superlatives it is bound to receive.”
—Bay Area Reporter
MEN ON MEN 2
Best New Gay Fiction 1988
edited by George Stambolian
In Memoriam:
William Whitehead
INTRODUCTION
THIS NEW COLLECTION OF GAY FICTION by contemporary American writers builds on the success enjoyed by the first volume of Men on Men since its publication in 1986. It also reflects the continuing vitality of a phenomenon described in my earlier introduction—the extraordinary renaissance in gay letters that has been taking place since the late 1970s.
Here are a few of the novels and story collections published in 1986 and 1987: Tim Barrus’s Anywhere, Anywhere, Joseph Beam’s black gay anthology In the Life, Christopher Bram’s Surprising Myself, Christopher Coe’s I Look Divine, Christopher Davis’s Joseph and the Old Man, Larry Duplechan’s Blackbird, Gary Glickman’s Years from Now, David Leavitt’s The Lost Language of Cranes, Armistead Maupin’s Significant Others, Stephen McCauley’s The Object of My Affection, Ethan Mordden’s Buddies, David Plante’s The Catholic, James Purdy’s The Candles of Your Eyes, and George Whitmore’s Nebraska, Already scheduled for publication in 1988 are: C. F. Borgman’s River Road, Christopher Davis’s Valley of the Shadow, David B. Feinberg’s Eighty-Sixed, Robert Ferro’s Second Son, and Edmund White’s The Beautiful Room Is Empty.
These titles represent only a fraction of the hundreds of books now appearing every year on all aspects of gay and lesbian life: poetry, drama, science fiction, mysteries; a variety of nonfiction works from biographies and books on AIDS to an imp
ressive list of scholarly studies on art, literature, and history. After adding the growing number of lectures, films, and theatrical performances related to gay subjects, one can more correctly speak of a gay cultural and intellectual renaissance whose impact on American society is becoming increasingly evident.
I have included at the end of this book a list of reviews that regularly accept fiction and essays on gay topics. Although the list is selective, it does indicate that writers now have more outlets for their work. Also, while independent gay presses continue to publish important works of gay fiction, there has been a marked increase in the number of mainstream houses entering the field. American publishing, it seems, has finally recognized two related facts: that there are many fine writers treating gay subjects, and that an audience eager to read their work is now solidly in place. In a world where economic considerations are always crucial, gay fiction has become good business.
Few of these achievements would have been possible without the work of past writers who transformed the literary treatment of homosexuality, encouraged others to write, and developed a strong readership. Many are also reading gay fiction today because their interest in gay life has been aroused by the considerable attention AIDS and its social effects have received in the media. Certainly, there are ironies in this situation, among them the price paid by thousands of men whose talents have been lost to us all. Just as the first anthology was dedicated to a young writer, Richard Umans, so this collection honors the memory of an extraordinary editor, William Whitehead, who demonstrated the commercial viability of gay fiction by nurturing the art and careers of such writers as Robert Ferro, Doris Grumbach, Steven Simmons, and Edmund White.
Another source of encouragement for writers has been the quality of the criticism devoted to their work in the gay and mainstream press. Gay reviewers are less inclined than in the past to make judgments based on their own views of political correctness and have become more sensitive to artistic values, especially the way various stylistic devices question political assumptions and literary conventions. Mainstream reviewers are more aware of the fundamental issues of gay life and less likely to criticize a novel, either implicitly or explicitly, for being “too gay” and therefore alien to their own experience. Despite the greater attention individual works now receive in the mainstream press, however, most reviewers still tend to discuss them without any reference to their place within the broader context of contemporary gay fiction.
By neglecting the particular aspirations and achievements of gay fiction, critics risk distorting the meaning of a work and denying the writer an important part of his history. Literature does not exist in a cultural vacuum. It is born from specific social and historical conditions; it reflects those conditions, and directly affects the way our lives are perceived and transformed. The term “gay fiction” refers not only to an impressive body of work but to the liberation of a complex subject, and an entire community’s right to the free use of its imagination.
Gay fiction as a term is nevertheless problematic, for although it is possible to speak of common themes, a shared tradition, and even of an elusive “gay sensibility,” there is no literary school of gay fiction; each writer remains an individual with his own style and artistic interests, which may place him in the company of writers with similar interests who are not gay. My approach to this situation has been to employ a double tactic—to insist on the historical reality of gay fiction as a collective phenomenon but also to show, by the diversity of talents it has brought forth, that it cannot be reduced to a single restrictive category.
Several years ago at a forum in New York called “Is There a Gay Sensibility and Does It Have an Impact on Our Culture?” Jeff Weinstein brilliantly answered by saying, “No, there is no such thing as a gay sensibility, and yes, it has an enormous impact on our culture.” More recently, Vito Russo has re-marked that gay sensibility is not something only gay people express. It is, he said, “a natural conviction that difference exists but doesn’t matter.” These properly paradoxical statements illustrate concerns shared by all minorities—the refusal to be denied one’s history and identity as a member of a community, and the equally adamant refusal to have one’s individuality reduced to being nothing more than a reflection of that community. What is being sought is a balance between one’s need for self-definition and a wariness of all definitions. What is being expressed is a protest against all forms of cultural isolation.
Among the inevitable dilemmas created by this situation is the way gay books are marketed. Although the existence of gay bookstores and sections on gay studies in mainstream stores has been very effective in bringing gay fiction to its primary audience, writers have always viewed this arrangement with ambivalence because it diminishes their chances of reaching a broader audience and implies that their work is of limited appeal. But this arrangement is changing. Many gay bookstores are now stocking nongay titles by their customers’ favorite authors, whereas a number of recent books have been displayed on the regular shelves of mainstream stores primarily because they have been published by well-known houses and have received considerable publicity. These signs suggest that the boundary between gay fiction and mainstream fiction is becoming less distinct. They also point to more profound developments—the gradual assimilation of gay culture into American society, and the progressive transformation of American culture itself.
Almost everyone is aware of the changes that have occurred within the gay community in recent years: the weakening of urban ghettos; the decline in importance of bars, baths, and discos as focal institutions; the rise to greater prominence of other institutions such as political groups, community centers, health and charitable organizations. Although these changes have usually been attributed to the AIDS crisis, it would be more accurate to say that AIDS has accelerated changes that had already begun.
Gay culture of the 1970s was largely established by a generation which after decades of repression could celebrate its new consciousness and the very fact that it was creating a new culture on its own terms. This process continues, but much that was culturally new in the 1970s is now understandably seen as a given both by a younger generation and by many who were earlier engaged in gay life. We are also witnessing another familiar pattern of cultural change: After a revolutionary ingathering, a movement outward toward the rest of society is taking place. This movement is less the result of disillusionment caused by AIDS than a manifestation of confidence based on the fact that a certain psychological, social, and artistic ground has been secured against the continued onslaughts of anti-gay discrimination and violence.
These developments partly explain why some writers with established reputations in gay fiction are now venturing to treat other subjects, whereas writers previously known for their nongay work are turning to gay fiction for the first time. They also explain why many young writers today seem relatively less interested in exploring relations among men within an exclusively gay world than in examining the way their lives as gay men intersect with the lives of people within the dominant culture. Given this influx of so many new and diverse talents, it is not surprising that terms such as “gay fiction,” and especially “gay writer,” are far less restricted in meaning than was the case a few years ago. And now, nineteen years after Stonewall, the word “gay” itself carries connotations that encompass a reality of ever more varied social, moral, and artistic concerns.
Gay fiction, like gay life, has ceased to be a cultural curiosity of limited interest. For a growing number of readers the essential contribution of this fiction is that it addresses our common humanity often by revealing our common gayness—those problems shared by others but which gay people must confront with particular intensity. Readers know that at its best gay fiction offers a unique point of view for exposing the contradictions of our society and can be a highly effective instrument for examining our fears, desires, and ambitions, especially during this period of disruptive change. And writers know that it is only by cultivating their
particularity as individuals and as members of a community—their difference—that they can hope to provide new insights, among them the delicate truth that differences do not matter.
Many of these thoughts were in my mind when I began editing this second collection of gay fiction. I decided from the beginning not to request stories from writers already represented in the first volume of Men On Men in order to give more opportunities to others who had been unable to contribute earlier or who had emerged during the past two years. Although a few writers I contacted had no new work to offer, my search was greatly facilitated by recommendations I received from past and present contributors. I eventually read three hundred stories by more than one hundred men, many of whom had just begun to treat gay themes. As in the past, I considered unpublished and published works, finding the latter in Christopher Street, The James White Review, Mandate, and in mainstream periodicals: The Atlantic Monthly, The Mississippi Review, and a journal of progressive Jewish thought called, delightfully, Shmate. Some of these previously published stories were significantly revised for this collection.
I am pleased that the stories I finally selected are by established and younger writers, that several were written by, or deal with members of racial, ethnic, and affectional minorities within the gay community, and that others are set in areas of the country, notably the South, that were not represented in the first anthology. However, these factors did not serve as criteria for my selection, which was based solely on judgments of literary quality. I looked for stories that offered original insights and were fully realized in terms of character, mode of narration, and style. This book is a collection of fictional perspectives on gay life; it is also a gathering of distinct voices, each drawing the reader into a particular mind and world.
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