| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
Product Details
Would you like to update product info or give feedback on images?
|
Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
I won't comment much on the story line, but reading of this author is a great great experience. Give it time, be patient, read it to the end, and fall in love with his language.
The basic story combines two narratives that have been told many times before: rural boy comes to New York and confronts the fact that he is gay; a group of friends live through the early years of the AIDS epidemic. There are some wonderful moments when the Idaho-bred naivety of the lead character, William Parker, meets New York's in-your-face honesty. In particular, the chapter describing his first day on the job in a restaurant is relentlessly hilarious. (A personal note: I moved to New York from the Northwest the same month and year as Parker did. Manhattan was certainly a different place then, and Spanbauer captures perfectly the city's grittiness.)
Living in New York during the 1980s was at times certainly like living in a war zone, especially for those of us who lost (and are still losing) so many friends to AIDS. While Spanbauer's portrait of New York City is brutally on-target, his plot and characters never seem quite right. Like David Feinberg, Spanbauer can't contain his anger; his book boils in its hostility toward the Reagans, the Church, gentrification, and other all-too-easy targets, and he overstates his tirades to the point of absurdity. (A vengeful crime directed at "Cardinal O'Henry" on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral is exceptionally silly.) And, like Spalding Gray, Spanbauer seems more interested in breaking taboos than in exploring their impact on his characters or tying them into his plot. For example, an uncomfortably explicit account of incest does not in any way contribute to the development of the novel's character or story; it reads like an appended scene hoping to equal the shock value of his previous novel. He is often so busy brewing these episodes that he ultimately fails to make his characters and their actions coherent or convincing; without exception, everybody in the novel either goes crazy or dies. Five hundred pages later, the number of loose ends and pointless incidents defy counting.
Spanbauer is undoubtedly one of the best stylists writing "gay fiction" today. But, even taking into account its mystical themes and tragic events, this novel as a whole strains authenticity.
It's not like anything all that stellar actually happens---Will is looking for a childhood friend who got a scholarship and moved to NYC years before---and his quest is filled with blind alleys and, of course, with self-discovery. There's a good deal of violence and queasy-making descriptions of edgy sexual encounters and acres and acres of humankind's-inhumanity-to-humankind, but there's also a warped beauty to the whole thing and moments of sincere love. Imagine Tales of the City directed by Sam Peckinpah in a benevolent mood...