A book that is/is not a book

A tip of the beret to Octavio Roca for flagging this fascinating article from Hyperallergic.com about the first English translation (by Sylvia Gorelick) of Stephane Mallarme's La Livre (The Book), a long poem that Octavio notes is not in the Pleiade edition of the poet's works. Mallarme (1842-1898) famously declared that "Everything in the world exists in order to end up as a book," and he spent 30 years compiling this sprawling, unfinished visual poem to prove that point.

Viewing "Every Act of Life"

The PBS "American Masters" program linked in Steve's "Remembering Terrence McNally" post below is for a short time easily viewable! I heartily recommend it for anyone interested in theater or gay life or American culture in general.

Remembering Terrence McNally

The Washington Post and New York Times are reporting the death of playwright Terrence McNally at the age of 81, due to complications from coronavirus. The winner of four Tonys, McNally was a prolific dramatist throughout his long career, but is probably best known for his plays, Love! Valor! Compassion! (1995) and Master Class (1996), and his books for the musicals Kiss of the Spider Woman (1993) and Ragtime (1998).

I'm chagrinned to see that the list of 300+ books we've read (faithfully updated by our blogmaster, Tim Walton) does not include any of McNally's works. Perhaps that's an omission we might wish to rectify when we conduct our next nomination/voting process? I was planning to do that this spring, by the way, but since we still have plenty of titles from our last balloting left to schedule, and Lord only knows when we'll be able to resume meeting, I'm inclined to wait until the fall.

Our friend Ken Jost notes that "Terrence McNally: Every Act of Life," a documentary about the playwright's life and career, aired on PBS on June 14, 2019, as part of the network's "American Masters" series. And here are Post theater critic Peter Marks' lovely tribute, and a roundup of some
Times reviews of McNally's creations over the years.

None but the Lonely...

Several of you have told me you've finished, or at least started, the selection we were scheduled to discuss on April 1: Olivia Laing's Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone.  

If you haven't checked out that book yet, here's an op-ed by Ms. Laing from today's New York Times to whet your appetite: "How to Be Lonely." 

Bookmen DC will not meet in April

Mayor Bowser has extended the current state of emergency through April 27, so that knocks out both our meetings next month.  I'll revise the schedule once there is a firm date for reopening D.C. government facilities.

A Coronavirus Reading List

I'm not sure whether it's the imp of the perverse that put the idea into my head, but I've ordered four books that I hope will give me some perspectives on the current crisis:

The Decameron  by Giovanni Boccaccio

A Journal of the Plague Year  by Daniel Defoe

The Plague  by Albert Camus

The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Epidemic in History
by John M. Barry

I welcome other suggestions.

Learning from History?

Politico has published a fascinating roundup of 30 short (1-2 paragraphs) responses by experts to the question, "How will the coronavirus change the world permanently?" They're all worth reading (IMHO), if not equally compelling. But Jonathan Rauch's take, harkening back to our recent discussion of Randy Shilts' And the Band Played On, stands out for me:

"One group of Americans has lived through a transformational epidemic in recent memory: gay men. Of course, HIV/AIDS was (and is) different in all kinds of ways from coronavirus, but one lesson is likely to apply: Plagues drive change. Partly because our government failed us, gay Americans mobilized to build organizations, networks and know-how that changed our place in society and have enduring legacies today. The epidemic also revealed deadly flaws in the health care system, and it awakened us to the need for the protection of marriage--revelations which led to landmark reforms. I wouldn't be surprised to see some analogous changes in the wake of coronavirus. People are finding new ways to connect and support each other in adversity; they are sure to demand major changes in the health care system and maybe also the government; and they'll become newly conscious of interdependency and community. I can't predict the precise effects, but I'm sure we'll be seeing them for years."

Bookmen DC will NOT meet on Wed., March 18

The DC Center just notified us that it has closed until further notice, so the discussion of the Joe Brainard anthology scheduled for this Wednesday will now take place on June 17. (I've sent an email to those of you on the mailing list.)

The D.C. library system is tentatively set to reopen on April 1, the date of our next meeting. Keep your fingers (and toes and eyes) crossed that happens, and stay tuned.

Boys in the (Heavenly) Band

Mart Crowley (full name: Edward Martino Crowley), best known for his 1968 play, The Boys in the Band, died on March 7 at 84. Here are obituaries from the Washington Post and New York Times, along with Clive Barnes' review of the original production. Barnes praised the production lavishly, though his wording (e.g., references to "queers" and "fag") and insistence that he himself is not a homosexual definitely reflect the era. But I think the review's final paragraph is a fitting epigram for the playwright:

A couple of years ago, my colleague Stanley Kauffmann, in a perceptive but widely misunderstood essay, pleaded for a more honest homosexual drama, one where homosexual experience was not translated into false, pseudoheterosexual terms. This, I think, "The Boys in the Band," with all its faults, achieves. It is quite an achievement.

O Lammies of God (sorry)

Octavio Roca was kind enough to share the list of nominees for this year's Lambda Literary Awards, which Oprah Magazine just announced. They include Ocean Vuong, whose On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous we'll discuss on May 6. Check it out!

Going Gothic

In his March 5 Book World column in the Washington Post, reviewing two reference works surveying science fiction and horror fiction, respectively, Michael Dirda references a book I'd never heard of: Vincent Virga's Gaywyck (1980), the first openly gay modern Gothic novel.

Armistead Maupin (whose first name the Amazon page misspells, aargh) urged: "Read the son of a bitch! You'll love it!" And The Advocate declared it "an extraordinary tour de force that merits special praise." It's still in print, and I intend to check it out as a candidate for our next reading list.

Felice Picano reflects on "The Lure," 40 years later

As a follow-up to last night's discussion of Felice Picano's The Lure, here is an interview the author did with The Guardian  back in December. (Since it's Lent, I may as well confess that I'd intended to post this as soon as I read it, but got sidetracked.) Anyway, it's still a lively read, as is the novel.