Remembering the "Godfather of Queer Comics"

The Dec. 6 Washington Post ran an obituary for Howard Cruse, who had passed away on Nov. 26 in a Massachusetts hospital at the age of 75. Among many other distinctions, Cruse served as founding editor of Gay Comix, one of the first series to feature work by and for openly gay men and women.

Reading Harrison Smith's excellent overview of Cruse's life and career, I am chagrined that I'd never even heard of him—or his acclaimed 1995 graphic novel, Stuck Rubber Baby, which recounts his experiences growing up and coming out in Jim Crow-era Alabama.

Fortuitously, that book will be reissued in May 2020 in a 25th-anniversary edition with an introduction by Alison Bechdel. I've already preordered it and anticipate it could be a good candidate for our 2020-2021 reading list.

The continuing allure of "The Lure"

The Dec. 19 issue of The Guardian features an interview with Felice Picano, whose 1979 novel, The Lure, has just been reissued by U.K.-based Muswell Press with a new introduction by the author. (It has never been out of print in the United States.)

The Lure was the first gay-themed book to be picked up by the Book of the Month Club, and was an instant hit. In the Guardian interview, Picano notes that his publisher did him "a wonderful favor, writing 'Warning: Sex and Violence' on the cover". Stephen King's blurb deeming Picano "one hell of a writer" probably helped, too.

At the same time, Picano received heavy criticism for the thriller not only from the usual suspects among homophobes, but from gay activists for exposing "the dirty laundry of gay life, the whole night-time scene. In order to get mainstream acceptance, a lot of organizations said we should never show that side. My feeling was, I'm a modern author, I need to show what life is like, the good side and the shady side. I absolutely stand by that."

Picano was even shot at in his apartment while working, by an unknown assailant. "My windows were open to the street. I heard the bullets and dropped down from my desk. We found the marks on the wall."

The author speaks (our language...:-)

Thought you all might appreciate the following message I received from Torsten Hojer, the author of Speak My Language, the anthology we'll begin discussing on Dec. 17:

Dear Steve,

I trust this email finds you well and fabulous...

I thought I'd drop you a quick note to say how happy I am to discover that Bookmen DC is discussing my anthology, Speak My Language, this week. A lovely surprise! I hope you, and your members, enjoy the stories. I would love to hear of favorites and other feedback, if you have time. Maybe even a photo!

Kind regards from a very cold, rainy but festive Brighton, U.K.—and Merry Christmas.

Torsten Højer

Another book group bites the dust...:-(

Our friend Ken Jost passes on the following news:

For most of 2019, he has been attending meetings of a non-LGBTQ book group near American University with the clever name of The Book Lobby. The group, numbering half a dozen or so, operated for 20 years (about the same span as Bookmen), but has just disbanded for lack of interest in the titles suggested for the coming year.

As Ken says, "Hats off to Potomac Gay Men's Book Group [the original name of our merry band] for lasting beyond life expectancy in this area."

it's easier to hump than to dump

My favorite factoid of the year or indeed of our dying decade (or our still adolescent century) has made me second-guess my wish to be re-incarnated as an octopus—

to wit:

Flying foxes gather in all-male clusters to lick each other's … penises.

I generally despise desperate searches for validating genes ("gay") or just-so theories of domestic evolution (like the nanny uncle) but this is so camp (i.e. inverted) that my objections in brief have fallen to my ankles. The article's subtitle ("Unless it is essential to know a partner’s sex [as e.g. in creatures committed to monogamy], why bother?") pretty much gives it all away. But in case it's hidden behind a paywall, consult The Economist, Nov 28th 2019, pp 68-69. (Lagniappe: an unomitted descriptor for the flying foxes' penises!)