I'm very grateful to Michael North for sharing these photos related to John Rechy's City of Night, which we'll be discussing next Wednesday, May 1. Michael comments: "At the Library of Congress, I looked up our first edition of City of Night, which has its original dust jacket. I thought the portrait of the 'youngman' John Rechy on the back and some of the descriptions might be of interest. ... They add some interesting color and context to its publication." That they do, Michael--thanks!
On April 17, 1969, the Mattachine Society of Washington held its first picket outside the White House. Today, on the 59th anniversary, the Rainbow History Project will re-enact the picket in honor of Dr. Lilli Vincenz, one of the organizers of the original demonstration (alongside Frank Kameny), who passed away last year at the age of 85. The event will take place on the White House sidewalk in Lafayette Park from 4:20-5:20 p.m., with RHP members carrying replicas of the 1969 signs and handing out literature explaining the purpose (both of the 1969 protest and the re-enactment). Paul Kuntzler, the last surviving participant of the original picket, will participate, carrying a replica of his original poster.
Serendipitously, tonight Bookmen will be discussing the second half of Eric Cervini's The Deviant's War: The Homosexual vs. the United States of America, whose Chapter 12 ("The Picket") is full of details about Dr. Vincenz and the White House demonstration. (We read the first half back in January.)
In the latest installment in the New York Times' "Close Read" series, critic A.O. Scott explores Frank O'Hara's poem, "Having a Coke with You." As he point out, it is one of some 50 poems inspired by Vincent Warren, a dancer O'Hara met in 1959, during their nearly two-year love affair. Scott works into his commentary comparisons to Shakespeare, Walt Whitman and Rembrandt, to name just a few writers and artists, but my favorite part comes at the very end:
O'Hara "was just 40 when he died, in July 1966, after being hit by a jeep on Fire Island. You can't really have a Coke with him. Except that, somehow, you can, which is why I'm telling you about it."
Washington Post reporter and analyst Philip Bump recently put together an article illustrating the post-2020 surge in calls for banning books throughout the United States. Most BookMen are already familiar with this disturbing phenomenon, and I have posted other items about it on this blog. But Bump's graphic depiction of the trend, using data from the American Library Association, has even more impact.
News Is Out reports on the Queer Liberation Library, which it rightly calls "a new chapter in literary LGBTQ+ access and representation." Established last fall, the QLL is a free digital collection, which currently contains about 850 ebooks and audiobooks. Amber Dierking, one of its co-founders, notes: "We emphasize purchasing books from living authors and addressing demographic imbalances inherent in publishing. Our goal is broad representation, reflecting our community's diversity."
To borrow items from the QLL, one must first apply for free membership. Members can download the Libby app or request books and audio products on the website. (The website also invites visitors to suggest books for the collection.) Digital licenses cost money, of course, and members can help by donating to the library. "That's the most direct way to support us, allowing us to expand our collection and cover operational costs," says Kieran Hickey, the QLL's other co-founder. "Engaging with public libraries for faster access to materials also supports us indirectly by demonstrating demand for queer materials, aiding their acquisition efforts.
On March 21, 1924, exactly 100 years ago today, a dinner party helped launch the Harlem Renaissance. As Veronica Chambers and Michelle May-Curry recount in this fascinating New York Times article, the attendees included several LGBTQ authors whose books we've read or read about over the years: Langston Hughes, Alain Locke and Carl Van Vechten. Though the gathering was barely covered at the time, requiring Chambers and May-Curry to reconstruct that glittering night, they point out that "In the decade after the dinner, the writers who were associated with the Renaissance published more than 40 volumes of fiction, nonfiction and poetry. That body of work transformed a community as well as the landscape of American literature."
I can still recall when nearly every newspaper and magazine would periodically publish a list of "Great American Novels." Indeed, if you go back through the years of this blog, you'll find many such compilations. But such roundups seem rarer and rarer these days, so I was interested in The Atlantic's list, totaling 136 novels. I'm pleased to say that I've heard of nearly all of them, though I've read fewer than a quarter of them. But I was surprised that only 12 of the titles are by LGBTQ authors and/or have prominent gay/queer themes (under 10%). That said, James Baldwin is one of the few authors to have two titles on the list: Giovanni's Room (which BookMen has discussed) and Another Country (which we have not gotten to yet). Check it out!
