Work stinks.

Home isn’t much better. Deadlines, dirty dishes, screaming boss, loud neighbors, nasty clients, empty bank account; any wonder why you’re so crabby?

No help, no raise, no sympathy; what you really need is to get away. And so did author Mikey Walsh but, as you’ll see in his new memoir Gypsy Boy on the Run, he escaped certain death.

Growing up in Europe’s Romany culture in the 1980s was wonderfully idyllic for Mikey Walsh – for awhile.

As a young boy, Walsh played with his sister, danced to his mother’s favorite music, made mischief with cousins and loved to dress up. But since Walsh was the youngest in a line of Gypsy fighters, his father started “training” him early to use his fists. That meant daily beatings, sometimes more, until Walsh was a teen.

By then, he realized he was gay and he knew his father would kill him if he found out. So, with the help of Caleb, a man he’d fallen in love with, 15-year-old Walsh escaped in the middle of the night.

But his father wasn’t going to let him go easily.

Within days, a “five grand” bounty had been put on Walsh’s head, and Caleb was being stalked. Terrified, they moved Walsh from place to place until he finally found safety in a town where he hoped his father wouldn’t look. Walsh found a job, but he lost Caleb to the pressure of constant threats.

With the familial situation eased a bit, Walsh seized the opportunity to change things he didn’t like about himself. Though proud of his Gypsy heritage, his way of speaking became more “Gorgia.” He made friends and learned to embrace his sexuality. He was confident enough to move even farther away from his family’s influence, to find a good job and a safe apartment. He’d stopped living with paralyzing fear, he learned to read, and he enrolled in acting classes.

He cautiously began to forgive his father.

At the end of last years’ Gypsy Boy – which I absolutely loved – author Mikey Walsh teased his readers by letting it slip that there was much more to his story. He didn’t elaborate, and I wondered if he could deliver on that delicious tantalization.

I shouldn’t have doubted.

Beginning with a brief recap that also serves as a summary for those who missed the first book, Walsh wastes little time before pulling readers into a terror-filled account of the months in which he was always just a half-step ahead of his father’s fists – and yet (this amazed me), he manages to keep a sense of humor about what happened. He presents his story with no poor-me, no sympathy-begging, and a voice that’s calm and matter-of-fact. The lack of whining is oh-so-refreshing in a book like this.

Yes, this memoir contains some repetition, but that minor annoyance is overpowered by a Part Two tale that’s every bit as stellar as its predecessor. If, therefore, you’re searching for something for vacation, weekending, or just because, Gypsy Boy on the Run is the best escape.

BOOK REVIEW

Gypsy Boy on the Run by Mikey Walsh

© 2013, Thomas Dunne

$24.99 U.S. / $16.99 Canada

306 pages

The faces in the pictures look back at you with hopeful, aching eagerness.

Ah, your high school annual is such a trove of memories. There you are at Senior Skip Day, making goofy faces. There’s a picture of the class black sheep, now the president of the local bank; remembrances of prom, homecoming, first kisses and team spirit.

You haven’t seen a lot of those kids since you graduated. Sometimes, you wonder if you really ever knew them. As in the new book Prairie Silence by Melanie Hoffert, you wonder if you ever really knew anything.

It may’ve seemed like the kind of idle conversation that friends have when they’ve known one another for ages, but Melanie Hoffert was dead-serious when she told her friend, Melissa, that they should return together to the prairie.

Hoffert surprised herself with her longing for home. She’d hated growing up on an isolated farm in North Dakota, ten miles from grocery stores, three miles from playmates, a half days’ drive to a major city. She hated small-town life then but, sitting in a cold office in Minneapolis, she realized how much she missed the farm and, most of all, harvest-time.

So she took a leave of absence from the job she loved. She wanted to be a farmer again. She wanted to touch the past.

But in reconnecting with memories of vast openness and the kind of silence that comes when neighbors are miles apart, Hoffert also rediscovered who she was, years ago. She knew at a young age that she was different from other girls: she figured she’d eventually kiss a boy, but she yearned for another kind of love. She dreamed of holding hands with a woman, and she became smitten with her best high school friend, Jessica.

Hoffert knew she couldn’t talk about that to anyone on the prairie. That sort of thing just wasn’t.

Coming home to North Dakota, she remembered that puppy love. She remembered how Jessica led her to Jesus, and the turmoil it created when she was told that homosexuality was a sin. She recalled her family, and marveled at how much had changed.

And she remembered neighbors: the ones who asked if she found a “fella” yet; corn farmers; homesteaders and homemakers; caretakers of the land.

When it comes to this books’ title, Prairie Silence couldn’t be more apt.

Author Melanie Hoffert has written a sure love letter to a land and its people, but it’s love spurned and unrequited, as well as love held fast. In between Hoffert’s sweet-yet-angst-driven memories and her journey of self-rediscovery, readers are treated to quiet reverence for a disappearing way of life, for faith that just couldn’t last, and for folks who – to her surprise – never discouraged Hoffert from being who she was.

This is a gorgeous book that evokes quiet country mornings and loud self-examination, and this former farm girl enjoyed it thoroughly.

If you once believed that you can’t truly ever go home again, Prairie Silence is a book you’ll be eager to read.

BOOK REVIEW

Prairie Silence by Melanie Hoffert

© 2013 Beacon Press

$24.95 / $28.95 Canada

238 pages

The neighbors sure got an eyeful last week.

Then again, they always do. They don’t miss a thing when it comes to you and, no matter what it is; they always know your business. Guests, groceries, gifts; whatever comes through your door is another topic of interest for them. Just another thing to gossip about. It’s small-town living at its very worst, whether your city is populated by 200 or 2 million.

So now imagine living on an island, landlocked and festering with dirty laundry. In Mundo Cruel by Luis Negron, translated by Suzanne Jill Levine, you’ll get a little taste.

Once not too long ago, Santurce, Puerto Rico was known as Cangrejos, which meant crabs. For such a small neighborhood, that name might have been fitting, since the buildings, people, the heat, smells, the noise and the gay bars were constantly scrabbling up against one another.

Santurce is where a boy can be raised thinking he’s The Chosen One. He can become a prophet, the future leader of a church, a most beloved son of God … and he can fall from grace in the time it takes to lower his pants in a men’s restroom. He can fall from grace in the eyes of everybody except the pastor, who looks upon the boy with lust.

It’s where beautiful macho men lie to get what they want, and the trick is really (sometimes literally) on the man who gives it to them. It’s where money can be owed for a long time and getting it back can be impossible, which doesn’t stop some people from trying. It’s where a father gradually starts to notice that his youngest son is an awful lot like the boy’s uncle – and since the uncle is gay, there’s sudden, cautious acceptance all around.

People gossip in Santurce, over the fence and about a neighbor’s child who seems rather effeminate. People are murdered there, and crime scenes are somehow humorously made worse by an attempt at subterfuge. People die in Santurce, and they lie about who they really are.

At a mere 90-some pages, Mundo Cruel has got to be one of the skinniest books I’ve read in a long time. It’s probably one of the oddest, too.

Through a series of short stories – many of which leave the reader hanging in the most uncomfortable ways – author Luis Negron gives readers a feel for the kind of community where close-knit, kindred residents have lived together long enough to intensely dislike one another. That, of course, can lead to a few funny scenarios and at least one that ends in heartbreak. With these better-told tales, Negron does an exceptional job in presenting small-town life with all its snarking and back-handed support.

So can I recommend this book?

Yeah, I think so. The good stories make up fully half the book which means, because of the size of it, there isn’t much to endure of the lesser ones. Indeed, Mundo Cruel is a tiny collection of tales, but it could be a decent eyeful.

BOOK REVIEW

Mundo Cruel by Luis Negron

© 2012, Seven Stories Press

$13.95 U.S. & Canada

96 pages

“You can’t do that!”

The last person who uttered those words in your presence was in for a big awakening. He didn’t know that those four words are like the proverbial bull-and-red-cape for you. They’re a challenge, a dare, and an ultimatum to your senses. They are a guaranteed way to make you do exactly what you are told is forbidden.

So you never listen to anybody when it comes to the “C” word – but what if your actions would cost you everything? In the new book, Where You Are by J.H. Trumble, a young teacher weighs that, and listens to his heart.

Andrew McNelis knew that his star pupil was struggling at home.

Robert Westfall’s father was dying, and though the high school senior was keeping up at school, McNelis could tell that it was difficult for the boy. He wished he could comfort Robert – he was beautiful, with his blond hair and easy confidence – but that kind of contact could get McNelis into a heap of trouble.

McNelis was gay, and he kept that under wraps. Just a few years older than his students, the last thing he needed was for them to know about his private life.

Robert had always had a crush on Mr. McNelis. He liked the way his teacher smiled, and McNelis’ old-fashioned way of talking. Though Robert had a boyfriend, he’d never actually been kissed. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Mr. McNelis.

It started out as a lunchtime friendship. Then McNelis gave Robert his phone number. Robert asked McNelis to chaperone the band dance and check out colleges with him. Teacher and student grew closer, began to share secrets, and the inevitable happened.

There were just four months until graduation. Four months, until it wouldn’t matter that Robert and his teacher were falling in love. But in the meantime, there were two big problems: Robert was underage. And Mr. McNelis was flirting with a felony.

My first response, when this book crossed my desk, was a sneer. The news is filled with adults preying on kids, and I wasn’t interested. But then, I became intrigued. With so many possible outcomes and ways to treat a topic like this, exactly how would author J.H. Trumble deal with such a controversial, hot-button topic?

The answer is: carefully, but I was still a little uncomfortable. The story here is one of forbidden love that’s only bound by temporary rules and, in a long-lens sort of way, it’s very well-done (albeit, a bit overly-long). The problem, however, takes me to the root of why I was a little repelled by this book: the adult main character here is just that. An adult in a leadership role who forgets that his “paramour” is a 17-year-old.

Yes, I know this is a work of fiction, but it’s a squirmy thing to read – not just because of the tension and will-they-get-caught suspense, but because the wrong is wrongly lacking in the story. For that, Where You Are is a book I can’t recommend.

BOOK REVIEW

Where You Are J.H. Trumble

© 2013, Kensington

$15/$16.95 Canada

336 pages

You’ve often wished things were different.

You wanted a sofa, for instance, and regret getting chairs. The college degree you achieved should’ve been something else, and you wish you’d started your career in another city, state or a whole other continent. And how would life be with a bigger family, an alternate family or no family at all?

You’ve often wished things were different, and there you sit. But in the new novel, The Trapeze Artist by Will Davis, a man decides to do something about it.

He hadn’t planned on following the circus.

He hadn’t planned it, but after he slept with Vlad, the trapeze artist who seemed so dramatic and needy, what else could he do? He called his mother to tell her he’d be gone for awhile, and he shut off his phone in the middle of her protestations.

He had decided at age six to be gay because his Uncle Dan was gay, and Dan enjoyed life. His parents refused to see it, just as they refused to see him, and he often imagined what it would be like to live like his friend, Edward. Edward’s parents were famous and quite bohemian, while his parents only discussed the weather and their jobs.

Edward, well, he wasn’t like anyone else in the world. Edward was the first gay boy he’d ever known, the first boy he’d ever kissed. He supposed he was in love then, and it hurt to think about that.

Maybe there were a million reasons to follow the circus but Vlad was the reason to stay – and though staying wasn’t always pleasant, he realized he’d never been happier. Officially, the circus’ owner didn’t allow hangers-on, so after awhile, he was given a series of menial jobs to earn his way. Nobody liked him, and why should they? They thought he’d break and leave, but he didn’t.

He didn’t, until it all fell apart and he headed back home to find everything changed – including himself. His mother was gone, Edward was gone. So were his old dreams, ready to be replaced with new ones.

And so, he picked up a hammer …

Without a doubt, The Trapeze Artist is one of the most pensive books I’ve read in a long time. Author Will Davis’ main character is never named; we only know him by pronouns, which adds to the feeling of despair on each page. It’s as if the man is so bland and invisible that he’s not worth naming.

For the longest time, I enjoyed that facet of Davis’ story. It intrigued me, but as the novel proceeded and this character was piled with more and more grief, I found myself growing morose along with the story. This is a beautifully-told tale and no, I didn’t exactly want to throw it across the room, but oh, is it sad.

Overall, I think that this book is a m antidote to extreme joy, but it’s still worth a look-see. If you’re in that kind of mood, The Trapeze Artist is very, very… different.

BOOK REVIEW

The Trapeze Artist by Will Davis

© 2012, Bloomsbury

$16.00 / $25.00 Canada

313 pages

Once upon a time, your parents diapered your behind.

They didn’t mind, though, because it was part of being a parent. They fed you, cleaned up after you, put clothes on your little body, toys in your bedroom and lessons in your head. They made meals, curfews and sacrifices.

Someday, you may need to repay the favor, although it may not be pleasant. In fact, in the new novel The One I Left Behind by Jennifer McMahon, it may come at a bigger price than one might think.

Thirty-nine-year-old Reggie Dufrane never wanted to return to Monique’s Wish.

The old stone house was once a labor of love, built by Reggie’s grandfather for his wife, Monique, who died in childbirth. It was supposed to be a gift, but Reggie only saw it as a place to escape forever.

She never wanted to return. But when her Aunt Lorraine phoned, she had no choice.

Twenty-five years ago, Reggie’s mother, Vera, was the final victim of a serial killer that the media dubbed Neptune. Though they never found her body, they found Vera’s right hand, amputated neatly, the calling card of a killer.

But Vera was very much alive. She’d been living in a homeless shelter all those years, and now she was dying of cancer. Lorraine demanded that Reggie bring Vera to Monique’s Wish for her final days, though returning to a life’s worth of bad memories was something Reggie didn’t want to do.

In retrospect, Vera hadn’t been a good parent. Reggie spent more time with her aunt than with her mother because Vera loved to drink. Lorraine resented that, and she seemed to resent Reggie, too. Because she felt unloved, and because of a childhood injury, Reggie grew up self-conscious, self-destructive and unable to resist peer pressure from a reckless supposed-best friend. It had taken a long time to overcome that. She didn’t want to return to it.

But the fact of the matter was that her mother was alive, and dying. The other fact was that Neptune was never caught and vulnerable Vera was still in danger.

Then again, so was Reggie …

I really have to stop reading books like this before bedtime.

I was OK until I got about a quarter-way through it. But then author Jennifer McMahon made me jump and, well, helloooo nightmares.

Though there are some rough spots in editing and a little bit of initial back-and-forth confusion in timeline, The One I Left Behind is a pretty fine thriller. The characters are a creepy bunch, even when you may think they’re not supposed to be. There are lots of distractions here to keep you guessing, and plenty of dead ends that should easily foil early-solvers.

In fact, I didn’t know where McMahon was going until almost the end of this book, which was mighty satisfying.

So if you need to scare up a few scares, this book should be your next read need. For lovers of a high creep level, The One I Left Behind won’t be left behind anywhere.

BOOK REVIEW

The One I Left Behind by Jennifer McMahon

© 2013, William Morrow

$14.99 / $16.99 Canada

423 pages

At your house, the door’s always open.

You love having a big group around your table any time; in fact, the more, the merrier. Family and friends never hesitate to stop by because you’ll make room for them no matter what. They’re always welcome. They know that.

The door’s always open, but it’s also closed.

You’re an LGBT family, and that creates some sticky issues. Whom do you tell and what’s safe to say? How do you protect your children? You may get a little guidance on that by reading Family Pride by Michael Shelton.

Your family is just like everybody else’s. Almost.

You like the same foods and TV programs, wear the same clothes, drive the same streets and laugh at the same stupid things. The only difference between you and the other families in your neighborhood is that you’re gay. You’re also in good company: a third of lesbians and one out of five gay men are parents.

Still, almost half of your neighbors think they have nothing in common with you.

Pop culture, don’t-tell behavior and mythology are partly to blame for that: it’s widely (and erroneously) believed, for example, that most LGBT households are affluent, white, highly-educated and only found in urban areas. Lesbian single mothers often keep their lives hidden to protect their children. Rural and small-town LGBT families are thought not to exist.

The general truth is that what researchers know about same-sex parents is “not necessarily accurate.” This is exacerbated by what Shelton says is “passing,” or telling a white lie or a lie of omission in order to maintain discretion within the community. “Passing,” therefore, avoids full disclosure, which may be undesirable for reasons of discrimination, bullying or downright danger.

There are, of course, impacts on the children for “passing,” just like there are for coming out (which, says Shelton, should be a “process”). Children in an LGBT family can’t be raised like every other kid because they’re not like other kids. Still, they should know the truth about their parents; they can be taught the fine art of discretion without lying and they should be taught that straight people are not the enemy.

I struggled a lot with what’s inside Family Pride.

I liked that LGBT parents will find a lot of information in this book: information on diversity, studies, challenges and services that can help to meet those challenges. Author Michael Shelton includes case studies and first-person accounts to support his facts, and they’re quite interesting to read.

I fear, however, that what you’ll find may be old news. Anyone living as a gay man or a lesbian is likely already aware of laws, services and harassment. They know how and where to seek help. They don’t need a book to tell them the statistics.

Therefore, overall, I think that the audience for this book lies in newly-created LGBT families or allies wishing to understand or lend a hand. Family Pride will be helpful for them, but established LGBT families probably needn’t bother to open it.

BOOK REVIEW

Family Pride: What LGBT Families Should Know about Navigating Home, School and Safety in Their Neighborhoods by Michael Shelton

© 2012, Beacon Press

$16.00 / $19.00 Canada

240 pages

The lady in the picture was wearing the biggest scowl you’d ever seen.

The photo was taken long ago and it made you wonder what happened that day to make her so snarly. Was there a death, lost crops, an accident, bad weather, or did the photographer make her angry?

You’ll never know but you wonder, just like the portrait makes you wonder about her life. And in the new book Astray a collection of short stories by Emma Donoghue, imagination becomes possibility.

Perhaps the woman in the picture had just gotten out of bed. It was her third time rising that day, but she had to do what she could to keep a roof over her head and food in her child’s belly. Not even thirty years old, she felt worn, detesting her situation, loving her family. She hated her life but “she wouldn’t swap it for any other.”

Or, as you’ll see in The Widow’s Cruse, the scowling woman could’ve been on her way to meet her lawyer. Newly widowed by a smallpox plague, she was frightened and unsure. She feared destitution. Her lawyer should have feared her.

Maybe the woman was escaping. In the photograph, she appeared to be white, but that doesn’t mean anything. A man who’s cruel to his slaves can be cruel to his wife, too. Or perhaps she was escaping to another country, making a journey with her children to join a husband who was never going to meet her at any pier.

It’s possible, too, that the woman was scowling because she met a man who’d never love her. When men team up to seek fortune and pan for gold, they often forget that Yukon winters can be long and ferociously cold. Men do things to stay warm and sane. When that happens, women are mostly forgotten.

And then again, that woman you see scowling in the picture? There’s something about her that you just can’t quite figure out. Maybe – just maybe, as you’ll see in Daddy’s Girl – she’s not really a woman, down deep.

Emma Donoghue PHOTO: NINA SUBIN

Astray is written with a great premise: take an old newspaper article, story, fictional tale or even a passing mention from any source, and imagine how that single episode in someone’s life might have actually happened.

It sounds like a seventh-grade writing assignment, but in author Emma Donoghue’s hands, it works to a level of impressiveness.

Moving through the centuries with her short stories, Donoghue turns everyday situations and period-piece slice-of-life situations into something of which O. Henry and Paul Harvey would be proud. Indeed, some of these tales start with a little sleight of word, poking our emotions in one way, then slowly twisting them into another direction before giving us the real story. You never know where these tales will end, and that’s a good thing.

My only complaint about this book is that it didn’t last long enough. I wanted more, and if that’s the kind of book you have to have, then Astray is one to picture yourself reading.

BOOK REVIEW

Astray by Emma Donoghue

© 2012 Little, Brown and Company

$25.99/$29.99 Canada

275 pages

When you were born, your parents counted your fingers and toes.

They lovingly stroked your baby-soft skin, checked to make sure all parts were present and accounted for, then they looked into your face and wondered what might become of you someday.

They never asked for a refund because of your hair (or lack thereof). They didn’t try to exchange you because of your nose. They never wanted to swap with another parent because of your eye color because, as you’ll see in the new memoir Oddly Normal by John Schwartz, their real battles laid elsewhere.

In retrospect, John Schwartz realized that there was plenty of warning before his son, Joe, overdosed on pills.

Joe was born in early 1996 and became a smiley child with a flair for drama and a love of feather boas, fabulous fashion dolls and “shiny baubles.” At age three, he asked to dress as a “disco yady” for Halloween, and the Schwartzes began to wonder if their toddler was gay.

If he was, John and Jeanne Schwartz wouldn’t have loved Joe any less. They had grown up with gay friends and relatives in Texas, and they had seen a lot of anti-gay behavior, too. They felt equipped to help steer their son through life if, indeed, he had been born with his “sexual identity in place from the get-go.”

When it came time to enter school, Joe went happily. He’d been assigned a teacher who was excited to have in her class an extremely bright kid with an incredible vocabulary, intense curiosity and a voracious reading habit.

Sensing that the dolls were no longer appropriate, Joe’s parents put them away.

“We had built his first closet,” Schwartz says.

But as his school career progressed, Joe began feeling isolated. His problems worsened through each progressive grade, and his often-explosive anger wasn’t just directed at peers, but at teachers, too. The Schwartzes reached out to Joe’s “League of Gay Uncles” to try to understand what was happening. He hadn’t come out to his parents yet, but there were “Big Honking Clues” and the Schwartzes were encouraged to let Joe have “his moment” without being pushed.

And then, at age 13, Joe Schwartz overdosed.

I liked Oddly Normal, but…

On one hand, author John Schwartz gives readers a sense of what it’s like to raise a child who wrestles with internal issues that aren’t accepted by the external world. It’s alarming to see the misconceptions, miscommunications and roadblocks that the Schwartzes endured, and it’s reassuring to know that we’re more enlightened these days.

But what bothered me was that parts of this book felt repetitive. Schwartz gives us an expansive timeline that often seemed too expansive. That caused me to lose interest now and then, since it chipped at an otherwise lively memoir.

Still, I think this story has merit, if nothing else but for its solidarity for worried parents. If you’re helping a child or teen who’s struggling – especially with being gay – then Oddly Normal is a book to get your hands on.

BOOK REVIEW

Oddly Normal by John Schwartz

c.2012, Gotham Books

$26/$27.50 Canada

290 pages

The rings are tucked safe in a box in your dresser drawer.

Your finery hangs in the closet, right next to that of your beloved. You bought new shoes for the occasion, flowers are ordered, a friend is providing the party spot, it’s BYO food, and you’ve done a thorough job with informal invitations.

Now you just need a place for the wedding but, depending on the month and the state in which you live, that might be easier dreamed than done. In the new book From the Closet to the Altar by Michael J. Klarman, you’ll see why.

In the years after World War II, gay rights faced “daunting hurdles.”

Organized activism was rare then because homosexuality was basically illegal in every state. Homosexuals – and those merely suspected of homosexuality – were subject to police raids, surveillance, loss of jobs and worse. They were believed to be “possibly as dangerous as communists.”

By the early-to-mid 1960s, however, social mores had relaxed enough for major news outlets to gingerly cover homosexuality in their pages. The change, says Klarman, was in part because the Supreme Court deregulated pornography, which opened the door for gay literature. By this time, gay rights organizations were also plentiful and more vocal.

Same-sex marriage at that time, however, was largely a non-issue. Monogamy was practiced, but family life was often sneered at by activists.

Still, the possibility of marriage was pretty enticing.

In Minnesota in 1971, two men were married in a church, though the state refused to recognize their marriage as valid. In 1975, two men in Phoenix applied for a marriage license; a local court voided the marriage. That same year, couples in Colorado found a “more obliging” court clerk and several were married before the state stopped her from issuing more licenses.

By 1980, Ronald Reagan was elected, the Moral Majority reigned, and public sentiment was definitely against same-sex marriage. Still, anti-discrimination laws were widely passed across the nation – giving proponents hope – but then AIDS took the focus off the issue.

And then came Bill Clinton …

Author Michael J. Klarman begins his book by discussing how the Supreme Court has often followed social convention. That made me afraid I was getting myself into something dryly emotionless.

I’m happy to say I was wrong.

From the Closet to the Altar is an interesting, lively look at the history of gay rights as well as that of same-sex marriage. Klarman sets the tone for every history-making milestone by explaining how it’s connected to the event that came before it, which makes it easy to understand how we got where we are now. In between, he makes some excellent, valid points as he looks at the future of the institution; including how and why it’s just a matter of time before nationwide acceptance.

Starry-eyed dreamers won’t find romance here, but historians and realists will love the facts that From the Closet to the Altar presents. If that’s you, then read this book because, really – doesn’t “We’re married” have a nice ring to it?

BOOK REVIEW

From the Closet to the Altar: Courts, Backlash, and the Struggle for Same-Sex Marriage by Michael J. Klarman

c.2012, Oxford University Press

$27.95 / $30.95 Canada

276 pages

When you wake up in the morning, there are certain things you expect to be the same.

You’ll have a brand new day, of course, but it’ll start where you ended last night. Your alarm will be the same, set at a time you probably know all too well. A surprise might await you at some point in each new day, but the familiar is your comfortable beginning.

And yet, while you slept, the world changed.

In the new book October Mourningby Lesléa Newman,you’ll see what happened on one frosty night, fourteen years ago.

He was outnumbered.

It was two against one; two local boys, placed in a bar with a pitcher of beer. One petite Matthew Shepard, sitting in the same bar, alone.

The boys’ truck knew that the situation wouldn’t turn out well when the two locals lured Shepard into its cab with promises. The road on the way out to the Wyoming vastness thought it had seen everything but when it noticed Shepard trapped in the truck, it wanted to heave.

The clothesline that was used to tie Shepard felt tangled. The fence held him up all night, though he was “heavy as a broken heart.” The fence held on, through wind and prairie alone. It cradled him, as his mother would.

There are many things you can do in eighteen hours.

You can cram for a test. You can drive cross-country, read a thick book, watch day turn into night and back again. Or you can wait to be discovered, tied to a fence, with wind and deer as companions.

After Shepard was found, the patrolman thought he’d been crying. The doctor cried when he saw what was left of the boy. The candle at Shepard’s vigil grieved and armbands stood as one. The fence that held him didn’t mind becoming a shrine.

In the days to follow, as news of Shepard’s death raced around the world, it changed some lives: a drag queen went further into the closet. A police commander removed gay slurs from his vocabulary. The bartender who served the local boys felt regrets. Countless students realized that Shepard’s story could have been their own …

Other drivers on the road must think I’m crazy.

There I was, cruising down the highway with tears coating my cheeks, my hand to my mouth. That doesn’t happen often; in fact, few audiobooks move me as much as did October Mourning.

Through a series of freestyle verses, author and poet Lesléa Newman imagines in this book the many points of view from people and objects that were witness to Matthew Shepard’s last moments. Newman’s sparse words, performed by several different actors in varied voices and timbres, bring incredible emotion to her scenarios, making this a book with beauty on one side, horror on the other.

Though grown-ups can – and will – certainly enjoy this audiobook, I think its best audience is young adults who are too young to remember that one night and its aftermath. For them, October Mourning may wake them up.

BOOK REVIEW

October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard by Lesléa Newman

© 2012, Candlewick Press

$15.99 / $19.00 Canada; 128 pages

© 2012, Brilliance Audio

$22.99 U.S. and Canada; two CDs/1:20

Change is good.

It might be uncomfortable, especially if you like the status quo, but it’s good. Without change, we’d still be traveling on horseback, wearing crinolines and communicating via letters. No change, no out-of-season vegetables or sushi restaurants. We’d live without TV and Internet, and die of diseases that are now curable.

Change is good but sometimes, you have to know where you came from to appreciate where you are. In the new book My Husband and My Wives: A Gay Man’s Odysseyby Charles Rowan Beye, you’ll see why.

Growing up in Iowa City, Iowa, in pre-World War II years, Charles Rowan Beye was taught to maintain a genteel deportment.

His widowed mother insisted that all six of her offspring dress for dinner, and conversation was never provocative. Servants were to be ignored and children weren’t allowed in certain parts of their house.

Despite that his family was well-off, Beye went to public school and remembers feeling different than his peers, in part because of his mannerisms and demeanor. Still, other boys readily accepted him.

It was with one of them that Beye had his first sexual experience.

Though he’d kissed girls and paired up like other adolescents his age, Beye was definitely more attracted to boys than he was to girls. He dated girls and they loved him for his gentlemanly ways. Young men liked him because he was willing to do anything they wanted, on the spot, no questions asked.

But then, in the middle of going to college and becoming a teacher, Beye fell in love – with a woman.

He met her nine days after his 21st birthday and they were married four months later. She knew he was attracted to men and she accepted it until her death four years after their wedding. Not quite a year later, Beye married another woman, and then became a father four times over while continuing to sleep with men. His wife also had flings of her own, until she divorced Beye in about 1976.

“… I always say to myself, I just can’t do gay,” says Beye. But he finally did – and in 2008, he married the man he hopes to spend the rest of his life with.

As a look back at small-town gay America, pre-World War II and pre-AIDS, My Husband and My Wives is a delightful (albeit sometimes wordy) surprise.

With droll wit and the teensiest bit of self-depreciation, author Charles Rowan Beye writes about a time when homosexuality was a subject left on the highest shelf of the deepest closet. Still, despite any former furtiveness, Beye is unrestrained and unafraid to tell tales; in fact, he admits that his graphic remembrances could make readers uncomfortable.

He’s not far off in that warning and yet – this book is such a perfect look into gay life gone by, that you almost can’t help but enjoy it. For anyone who craves that step back in time, if just for a peek, My Husband and My Wives is something different for a change.

My Husband and My Wives: A Gay Man’s Odyssey by Charles Rowan Beye

© 2012, FSG

$26/$28.95 Canada

257 pages

The shower has always been a great place to do it.

In the privacy of your car is good, too. Nobody can hear you sing there, so you can belt out a tune as loud as you want and the radio is always there as a guide.

At church, at the bar with friends, in the kitchen, or on the phone with especially great on-hold music, singing is irresistible. And in the new book Do You Dream in Color? author Laurie Rubin says she has a lot to sing about.

Within months of her birth, Laurie Rubin’s parents knew there was something unusual about their daughter. Baby Laurie didn’t look at people the way other infants did, and it took several doctor visits to learn why: her retinas never developed. She could see light, but nothing more.

And yet, that was never an obstacle for Laurie.

“Can’t” wasn’t an option. When she expressed frustration at not being able to read, her parents found someone to teach her Braille. She camped, skied and, after being taught some basics in mobility, was eventually mainstreamed into public school. She learned that she loved to sing, and was very good at it – even landing a small gig on an album with her friend and mentor, Kenny Loggins.

High school changed a lot of things, though. Laurie struggled with math and with friendship. Mean girls lived up to their sobriquet and Laurie was often left out of conversations and cliques. Boys didn’t avoid her, but they didn’t interest her much, either.

For Laurie, music was solace.

She took voice lessons and entered contests. She practiced and performed in front of peers. When it came time to go to college, she chose Oberlin in Ohio, aiming at a career in opera. Later, she was accepted for graduate school at Yale Opera.

It was there that she gained a furry guide and met the love of her life, Jenny.

Today, Laurie Rubin lives in New York with Jenny and their dogs. Rubin, a mezzo-soprano, performs as often as possible and her dreams, she says, are like those of anybody else’s. It’s the daydreams that are most important.

Do You Dream in Color? has a wonderful message in it. There’s empowerment here, and perseverance. It’s inspiring … but it’s also very clunky.

Part of the problem, I think, is that much of this book consists of quoted conversation, which felt inauthentic. It moves author Laurie Rubin’s story along, but not very well. I also noticed times when a name occurred in the narrative without prelude, making me guess at who the individual was and how (s)he was relevant. The mystery was usually solved, but not always quickly. Add the fact that Rubin’s story jumps around and, well, I had a hard time here.

Overall, the message in this book is great but the delivery method, not so much. You might like it more if you’re an opera fan, but for most readers, Do You Dream in Color? is slightly out of tune.

BOOK REVIEW

Do You Dream in Color? Insights from a Girl Without Sight by Laurie Rubin

© 2012, Seven Stories Press

$18.95 U.S. and Canada

400 pages

A lot of the things you’ve done in your life, you’ve done just for kicks.

You’ve taken dares to alleviate boredom. Taken risks on what-the-heck whims. You’ve done things legal and illegal for no other reason than that they were there, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. You did them just for kicks.

But when it comes to having a family, the only kicks you want are the ones from your unborn child. In the new book The Paternity Test by Michael Lowenthal, getting to that point, for two prospective fathers, almost gives their relationship the boot.

Patrick Faunce met Stuart Nadler at a charity event.

Stu, an airline pilot, once had boyfriends near every major airport. It was something that Pat learned not to question so he just stayed at home, working and worrying, never knowing if he was good enough, always overthinking. Pat had been in love with both boys and girls before, but he was afraid of losing Stu.

So when the Faunce family vacation house on Cape Cod fell into Pat’s ownership, he convinced Stu to move. It was a perfect place for a start-over, which made things better but still bumpy.

This time, though, it wasn’t all Stu’s fault: Patrick realized that he wanted a baby.

His childhood had been marked by a largely-absent father and hints of infidelity from his mother, and Pat wanted a family like the one he never had. He knew about surrogacy and he researched more, which is how he and Stu ended up meeting Debora and Danny Neuman.

Debora was sassy and beautiful, a Brazilian Jew with a charming grasp on the English language. Danny was reticent but friendly, if not a little nervous. They had an adorable 4-year-old daughter, they said their family was complete, and they only wanted to be able to help someone else have a family.

Agreements were made. Papers were signed.

But when month after month passed with no pregnancy, Patrick and Stu began to unravel. Debora and Danny’s relationship began to fray, too, so Debora started to rely on Pat’s friendship. Could a baby – maybe – put everything back the way it was before?

You have to love a story that makes you a little scared to move on to the next chapter because you’ve come to care about the characters so much. Fortunately, that’s what will happen when you read The Paternity Test.

Told from the perspective of one almost-parent, this novel is rich with angst and eagerness, laced with past-inflicted pain, and yet … still hopeful. Author Michael Lowenthal perfectly depicts the emotions of trying to start a family. Beginning slow in his storytelling, he just as slowly builds to an almost-see-it-coming, tense-but-can’t-look-away ending that will leave readers feeling strangely, breathlessly pensive.

You can expect a lot from this story of expectations met and dashed, and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed because it’s one of those novels that will stick in your mind. If you miss The Paternity Test, in fact, you’ll kick yourself.

BOOK REVIEW

The Paternity Test by Michael Lowenthal

© 2012, University of Wisconsin Press

$26.95 U.S. and Canada

288 pages

bookwatch

BY TERRI SCHLICHENMEYER

BOOK REVIEW

Return to The Big Fancy by Freeman Hall

012, Adams Media

$22.95 / $23.99 Canada

272 pages

Return to the Big Fancy

The holidays are coming. That means you’ll need a little extra.

Extra time to go gift-shopping, for sure, and extra closet space in which to hide packages. More importantly, you’ll need extra money for all that buying, which means you’re looking for an extra job.

There are a lot of openings at the mall, but be careful what you ask for. According to Freeman Hall in his new book Return to The Big Fancy, that part-time gig you’ll grab might just be extra irritation.

Freeman Hall figured he’d done his time at The Big Fancy, an upscale department store chain with a Burbank location. Hall worked the “Handbag Jungle,” where he dealt with nasty “custys,” greedy co-workers and a store manager he called Suzy Satan. He put up with them all while bringing home an insultingly small paycheck so, when he got the chance, he escaped to pursue his dream of being a screenwriter.

But screenwriting didn’t pay the bills. Working at The Big Fancy did. Shortly after leaving, it was back to retail hell for Hall.

The new department manager of Handbag (never “purse”) Jungle was a wonderful woman Hall calls Maude and, since she knew about his past at The Big Fancy, she was happy to hire him. As a former handbag manager, Hall brought experience to the Jungle. He also brought back his best customers.

As for Hall, everything was familiar, and depressing from the start.

Forbidden to use an elevator or mall entrance, employees were forced to climb several flights of stairs to get to work. Every day began with ear-splitting announcements and admonishments over the PA system from Suzy Satan to rally (or annoy) the troops. Since The Big Fancy paid its sales associates in commissions, “sharking” (stealing customers) was common and destroyed any sense of teamwork. Rules were loose (unless you broke them) and commissions could be retroactively withdrawn, even years later. The pressure on managers and associates was intense. Adding to it was that customers were always right – even when they weren’t – and discount rats always got their way.

It was frustrating. It was irritating. And it might’ve meant a completely horrible year for Hall, if it wasn’t for The Big Fancy Christmas Miracle …

So you plan on picking up some hours at the mall this fall. You might want to pick up Return to The Big Fancy first, while there’s still time to run.

Author Freeman Hall is both profound and profane in this book (although not as much of the latter as he was in his first book). His observations and his propensity for nickname-giving are both hilarious, but such snarkiness isn’t all you’ll find here: there were a few genuinely wonderful moments at the BF, and Hall shares them, too.

While retail-working readers will surely identify with this book, I also think it’ll give non-retailers a taste of what’s behind the counter. Either way, if you’re getting malled this Holiday season, you’ll need a laugh and Return to The Big Fancy packs a lot of extras.

The Velvet Rage

To out or not to out?

At this point in your life, you’ve made your decision but sometimes, you get a little angry that it’s even an issue. Sometimes that anger really gets you down, enough to make you want to just sit and think – or sit and drink, and that’s not good, either.

In the completely revised, updated edition of The Velvet Rage by Alan Downs, Ph.D, you’ll find a road map for the journey.

Is self-destruction inherent in gay men?

Alan Downs believes so, and he thinks he knows why: shame.

Shame, he says, is the “fear of being unlovable.” It’s “not embarrassment over being gay; it is the belief that being gay is a … symptom of your own mortally flawed psyche.” And perhaps because it’s a “secret [a man] cannot reveal,” it often leads to self-destructive habits including suicide.

Shame starts in childhood.

The first man you loved, says Downs, was your father. If he withheld acceptance, you turned to your mother and were “drawn to the feminine …” This all led to a change in family dynamics, which might have taught you to hide “ugly realities” as a means of survival and avoidance, resulting in shame’s accompanying rage.

To live a life of happiness, Downs says, there are three stages that gay men must endure. The first is characterized by being overwhelmed by shame, coping with it by “splitting,” or leading two discordant lives. Splitting helps to avoid shame, but it leads to a breakdown in relationships and a crisis in identity.

Stage two is marked by compensation for shame and a “belief that there is something fundamentally flawed,” internally. This is where addiction and depression often appear, especially when former validation is no longer enough to “soothe the gay man’s distress.”

In stage three, a gay man “seeks a better life for himself.” Old self-destructive behaviors no longer hold interest. Relationship trauma (betrayal, abuse, abandonment, and relationship ambivalence) is healed. Joy becomes possible.

Aside from the overgeneralizations, The Velvet Rage is pretty good.

The beginning chapters of this book may make readers feel like a bobblehead doll, nodding, nodding, nodding. That’s eerie, because it may be very hard not to see yourself in at least some of what author Alan Downs portrays, in fact.

What was most appealing about this book, though, were the last chapters. There, Downs helps readers along with his “Skills for Leading an Authentic Life,” which are good strengths to cultivate, no matter where you are (or are not) on Downs’ continuum.

Meant, perhaps, for a younger man who’s just starting this journey, I also think this book has words of wisdom for older gay men, too. If you’re in search for comfort and a more peaceful life, The Velvet Rage is a book to check out.