When I posted the next two items, about Marlon James' novel, The Disappearers, and Nicholas Bogg's biography, Baldwin: A Love Story, I didn't know that the two authors have been partners since at least 2022 and live together. It's a small world, after all! 😃
Wednesday, September 23, 2026
Tuesday, September 22, 2026
Novel of the decade?
"With this novel about gay experience and murderous homophobia in Jamaica and elsewhere during the 1980s and ’90s, [Marlon] James has written a masterpiece, the novel of the decade and possibly of the century thus far."
That is how Dwight Garner opens his rave for Marlon James' latest novel, The Disappearers, in his New York Times review. Later, he says: "This is another way of saying The Disappearers was one of the signal reading experiences of my adult life. It sank knives deep into my heart. I’m still in recovery from it."
Although they generally haven't been quite that effusive, most other critics I've read concur with Garner's praise. One exception: Adam Mars-Jones, writing for the London Review of Books: "Somehow the book’s fierce purpose has been adulterated. Its portrait of a cruel society loses authority by including a made-up bogeyman, a hate figure exempted from any attempt at understanding. This does significant damage to a book whose harshness is only bearable if it is telling the truth."
Some of you may still recall our lively discussion back in 2020 of James' previous novel, A Brief History of Seven Killings, which had similar heft and ambition. Some of us loved it, while others found it a joyless slog. I note that history because I will be nominating The Disappearers for next year's reading list, and anticipate it may elicit similarly passionate reactions. (Not that that's a bad thing! :-)
That is how Dwight Garner opens his rave for Marlon James' latest novel, The Disappearers, in his New York Times review. Later, he says: "This is another way of saying The Disappearers was one of the signal reading experiences of my adult life. It sank knives deep into my heart. I’m still in recovery from it."
Although they generally haven't been quite that effusive, most other critics I've read concur with Garner's praise. One exception: Adam Mars-Jones, writing for the London Review of Books: "Somehow the book’s fierce purpose has been adulterated. Its portrait of a cruel society loses authority by including a made-up bogeyman, a hate figure exempted from any attempt at understanding. This does significant damage to a book whose harshness is only bearable if it is telling the truth."
Some of you may still recall our lively discussion back in 2020 of James' previous novel, A Brief History of Seven Killings, which had similar heft and ambition. Some of us loved it, while others found it a joyless slog. I note that history because I will be nominating The Disappearers for next year's reading list, and anticipate it may elicit similarly passionate reactions. (Not that that's a bad thing! :-)
Fortune and Men's Eyes
Last year, I nominated Nicholas Boggs' magisterial biography of James Baldwin, Baldwin: A Love Story, for our reading list. It didn't get quite enough votes to make the cut, but I may put it forward for consideration again this year.
I'm finishing it now, and wanted to highlight a serendipitous connection between the bio and Marlon James' latest novel, The Disappearers (see the post above this one for more details about that). In the novel, a group of gay eight young black and mixed-race men in Kingston gather in private, in 1988, to rehearse a dangerous play: John Herbert’s “Fortune and Men’s Eyes” (1967), about prison life and degradation and sex acts, both desired and not. (One character refers to it as “Lord of the Flies with big people.”) Most if not all the actors are closeted gay men.
Believe it or not, James Baldwin directed a Turkish-language production of the play in Istanbul that ran from 1969 to 1970. Boggs' coverage of the episode in the biography is a tour de force.
Inspired by that coincidence, I really wanted to nominate Herbert's play for our reading list, but it's not in print and used copies are priced at $60 and up. Let us hope the Marlon James connection will spur some enterprising publisher to reissue the play. 🤞
I'm finishing it now, and wanted to highlight a serendipitous connection between the bio and Marlon James' latest novel, The Disappearers (see the post above this one for more details about that). In the novel, a group of gay eight young black and mixed-race men in Kingston gather in private, in 1988, to rehearse a dangerous play: John Herbert’s “Fortune and Men’s Eyes” (1967), about prison life and degradation and sex acts, both desired and not. (One character refers to it as “Lord of the Flies with big people.”) Most if not all the actors are closeted gay men.
Believe it or not, James Baldwin directed a Turkish-language production of the play in Istanbul that ran from 1969 to 1970. Boggs' coverage of the episode in the biography is a tour de force.
Inspired by that coincidence, I really wanted to nominate Herbert's play for our reading list, but it's not in print and used copies are priced at $60 and up. Let us hope the Marlon James connection will spur some enterprising publisher to reissue the play. 🤞
Tuesday, September 15, 2026
Good news, BookMen shoppers!
As those of you who read Paul Rudnick's I'll Take It (which we discussed on July 1) know, the novel ends with the protagonist's family sticking up the L.L. Bean flagship store.
In real life, that location later closed for two years to undergo a $50 million upgrade. But Ted Coltman was kind enough to share this announcement that it is once again open. Thanks, Ted!
Let us all hope that the two-year closure of the Kennedy Center that its board just voted to undertake will be equally successful.
In real life, that location later closed for two years to undergo a $50 million upgrade. But Ted Coltman was kind enough to share this announcement that it is once again open. Thanks, Ted!
Let us all hope that the two-year closure of the Kennedy Center that its board just voted to undertake will be equally successful.
Tuesday, September 8, 2026
Rest in poetry, Edward Field
The Sept. 7 New York Times reports the passing of poet Edward Field at the age of 102.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I'd never heard of Mr. Field, something reading his obituary quickly made me regret. So I reached out to our friend Philip Clark to ask whether he knew him, and Philip has kindly authorized me to share his response to the news with you all here:
"Gosh, Steve, I'm so sorry to hear this, and thanks for letting me know. I knew Ed, superficially: I asked him to submit poetry and published a piece of his in The William and Mary Review when I was its poetry editor as an undergraduate. I also did a small feature on him in Velvet Mafia later on, and we exchanged a few e-mails over the years about this and that. He gave a wonderful reading years ago at Westbeth, the artists' building in NYC where he lived, at the time with his longtime partner and collaborator Neil Derrick. I mean, everyone knew how old he was, so this isn't unexpected, but at times, it seemed like Ed would outlive everyone.
"I lost track of him a couple of years ago, and he didn't reply to my last e-mail (inquiring about something related to either the writer Alfred Chester or poet Ralph Pomeroy, if I recall correctly), but he was vibrant and productive until then. His last book that I'm aware of--Voyage to Destruction: The Moroccan Letters of Alfred Chester--which he edited, and which is another fascinating contribution—was published in 2022, and when I contacted him about it, he was still feisty.
"His poetry is very accessible, so he'd be a good choice for infrequent poetry readers. Frequent pop culture references; he's credited as one of the first, if not the first, to do this. Take a look at his poem "Mae West," for example, which must be online somewhere and is my favorite of his. If his memoir, The Man Who Would Marry Susan Sontag (which isn't him—that's a reference to Chester), is in print, it would also be a great choice."
And here, in Mr. Field's honor, is that poem (first published in the July 15, 1974, issue of The New Yorker):
Mae West
She comes on drenched in a perfume called Self Satisfaction
from feather boa to silver pumps.
She does not need to be loved by you
though she’ll give you credit for good taste.
Just because you say you love her
she’s not throwing herself at your feet in gratitude.
Every other star reveals how worthless she feels
by crying when the hero says he loves her,
or how unhoped-for the approval is
when the audience applauds her big number —
but Mae West takes it as her due.
She knows she’s good.
She expects the best for herself
And knows she’s worth what she costs,
and she costs plenty.
She’s not giving anything away.
She enjoys her admirers, fat daddy or muscleman,
and doesn’t confuse vanity and sex,
though she never turns down pleasure,
lapping it up.
Above all she enjoys her Self,
swinging her body that says, Me me me me.
Why not have a good time?
As long as you amuse me, go on,
I like you slobbering over my hand, big boy.
I have a right to.
Most convincing, we know all this
not by her preaching it
but by her presence — it’s no act.
Every word and look and movement
spells independence:
She likes being herself.
And we who don’t
can only look on, astonished.
Octavio Roca, who also noted the news, drew my attention to this passage in the NYT obituary:
"Then, in the mid-1950s, Mr. Field met the poet Frank O’Hara. Their brief love affair altered the course of Mr. Field’s life and work. 'Frank O’Hara showed me the way,' Mr. Field wrote for outhistory.org. Mr. O’Hara’s ability to write easily and unselfconsciously as a gay man gave Mr. Field the courage to follow his instincts and loosen up with his own writing. The result was a breakthrough in his poetry."
Based on all that, I'm inclined to nominate something by Field for our 2027 reading list. Both Amazon and Alibris sell used copies of several of Field's books, so I've ordered a couple of them to check out his work for myself. Stay tuned!
I'm embarrassed to admit that I'd never heard of Mr. Field, something reading his obituary quickly made me regret. So I reached out to our friend Philip Clark to ask whether he knew him, and Philip has kindly authorized me to share his response to the news with you all here:
"Gosh, Steve, I'm so sorry to hear this, and thanks for letting me know. I knew Ed, superficially: I asked him to submit poetry and published a piece of his in The William and Mary Review when I was its poetry editor as an undergraduate. I also did a small feature on him in Velvet Mafia later on, and we exchanged a few e-mails over the years about this and that. He gave a wonderful reading years ago at Westbeth, the artists' building in NYC where he lived, at the time with his longtime partner and collaborator Neil Derrick. I mean, everyone knew how old he was, so this isn't unexpected, but at times, it seemed like Ed would outlive everyone.
"I lost track of him a couple of years ago, and he didn't reply to my last e-mail (inquiring about something related to either the writer Alfred Chester or poet Ralph Pomeroy, if I recall correctly), but he was vibrant and productive until then. His last book that I'm aware of--Voyage to Destruction: The Moroccan Letters of Alfred Chester--which he edited, and which is another fascinating contribution—was published in 2022, and when I contacted him about it, he was still feisty.
"His poetry is very accessible, so he'd be a good choice for infrequent poetry readers. Frequent pop culture references; he's credited as one of the first, if not the first, to do this. Take a look at his poem "Mae West," for example, which must be online somewhere and is my favorite of his. If his memoir, The Man Who Would Marry Susan Sontag (which isn't him—that's a reference to Chester), is in print, it would also be a great choice."
And here, in Mr. Field's honor, is that poem (first published in the July 15, 1974, issue of The New Yorker):
Mae West
She comes on drenched in a perfume called Self Satisfaction
from feather boa to silver pumps.
She does not need to be loved by you
though she’ll give you credit for good taste.
Just because you say you love her
she’s not throwing herself at your feet in gratitude.
Every other star reveals how worthless she feels
by crying when the hero says he loves her,
or how unhoped-for the approval is
when the audience applauds her big number —
but Mae West takes it as her due.
She knows she’s good.
She expects the best for herself
And knows she’s worth what she costs,
and she costs plenty.
She’s not giving anything away.
She enjoys her admirers, fat daddy or muscleman,
and doesn’t confuse vanity and sex,
though she never turns down pleasure,
lapping it up.
Above all she enjoys her Self,
swinging her body that says, Me me me me.
Why not have a good time?
As long as you amuse me, go on,
I like you slobbering over my hand, big boy.
I have a right to.
Most convincing, we know all this
not by her preaching it
but by her presence — it’s no act.
Every word and look and movement
spells independence:
She likes being herself.
And we who don’t
can only look on, astonished.
Octavio Roca, who also noted the news, drew my attention to this passage in the NYT obituary:
"Then, in the mid-1950s, Mr. Field met the poet Frank O’Hara. Their brief love affair altered the course of Mr. Field’s life and work. 'Frank O’Hara showed me the way,' Mr. Field wrote for outhistory.org. Mr. O’Hara’s ability to write easily and unselfconsciously as a gay man gave Mr. Field the courage to follow his instincts and loosen up with his own writing. The result was a breakthrough in his poetry."
Based on all that, I'm inclined to nominate something by Field for our 2027 reading list. Both Amazon and Alibris sell used copies of several of Field's books, so I've ordered a couple of them to check out his work for myself. Stay tuned!
Thursday, September 3, 2026
Additional reading re: Albee & Chabon
All modesty aside (LOL), I believe we maintain a high standard for all our literary discussions. But last night's session, on Edward Albee's play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," felt particularly lively, and worthy of the source.
In that connection, Mike Mazza recommends Michael Y. Bennett's book about the play, which is part of Routledge Publishing's Fourth Wall series, which it bills as "short, accessible accounts of some of modern theater’s best loved works."
Then, looking ahead to our October and November discussions of Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Mike brought in an authorized comic based on the novel, Michael Chabon Presents. . .The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist, Volume 1. As the blurb explains:
"Leaping onto center stage from the wings of comics history comes that dazzling Master of Elusion, foe of tyranny, and champion of liberation: the Escapist. Operating from a secret headquarters under the boards of the Empire Theater, the Escapist and his crack team of associates roam the globe performing amazing feats of magic and coming to the aid of all those who languish in the chains of oppression. The history of the Escapist's creators Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay was recently chronicled in Michael Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Now the best of the Escapist's adventures are collected into one volume for all to enjoy."
In that connection, Mike Mazza recommends Michael Y. Bennett's book about the play, which is part of Routledge Publishing's Fourth Wall series, which it bills as "short, accessible accounts of some of modern theater’s best loved works."
Then, looking ahead to our October and November discussions of Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Mike brought in an authorized comic based on the novel, Michael Chabon Presents. . .The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist, Volume 1. As the blurb explains:
"Leaping onto center stage from the wings of comics history comes that dazzling Master of Elusion, foe of tyranny, and champion of liberation: the Escapist. Operating from a secret headquarters under the boards of the Empire Theater, the Escapist and his crack team of associates roam the globe performing amazing feats of magic and coming to the aid of all those who languish in the chains of oppression. The history of the Escapist's creators Joe Kavalier and Sam Clay was recently chronicled in Michael Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. Now the best of the Escapist's adventures are collected into one volume for all to enjoy."
Tuesday, September 1, 2026
A double play
With rare exceptions (such as a new translation of a foreign-language work), the rule we've followed with BookMen selections throughout our history is that any edition of the book is fine. The main purpose of that policy is to spare members the trouble and expense of acquiring a second copy of a book, but it also has a secondary benefit. Sometimes a different edition contains an introduction or other scholarly apparatus that resolves a question about the book that isn't addressed in the edition most of us are using.
That said, the edition of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I selected from Amazon.com for tomorrow night's discussion is different from the original: Edward Albee's own 2006 revision of his 1962 play. (Take a moment, by the way, to consider how remarkable it is that the play has remained popular enough to be revived repeatedly, and that the playwright lived long enough to revisit an early work.) So I thought it would be useful to post some additional info about that, courtesy of Wikipedia.
"The play was revived on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre, opening on 12 March 2005, in previews and closing on 4 September 2005, after 8 previews and 177 performances. Directed by Anthony Page, it starred Kathleen Turner as Martha and Bill Irwin as George, with Mireille Enos as Honey and David Harbour as Nick. Irwin won the 2005 Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Play for his role. The production transferred to London's West End at the Apollo Theatre with the entire original cast, running from 31 January to 13 May 2006. In January 2007, the production played at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, for one month. On 6 February 2007, the production began a six-week run at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles.
"Notably, it was this 2005 production that led to the publication of a revised script – one that has been used ever since – although many of its revisions were introduced in earlier productions. Among the revisions was the removal of early references to George and Martha's son, as well as the reference to the fact that George felt that he helped cause his parents' death, which was originally the subject of his failed novel. A roughly seven-page scene with George and Honey at the end of Act II has also been removed completely. These and other changes seem to be there to clarify plot points, but arguably rob the play of some of its ambiguity and tenuous relationship with realism."
And here's one more tidbit about the play from the same Wikipedia entry: "In 1970, Henry Fonda and Richard Burton attempted to recruit Warren Beatty and Jon Voight for an all-male production, but Albee refused permission." I would love to hear more about that!
That said, the edition of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I selected from Amazon.com for tomorrow night's discussion is different from the original: Edward Albee's own 2006 revision of his 1962 play. (Take a moment, by the way, to consider how remarkable it is that the play has remained popular enough to be revived repeatedly, and that the playwright lived long enough to revisit an early work.) So I thought it would be useful to post some additional info about that, courtesy of Wikipedia.
"The play was revived on Broadway at the Longacre Theatre, opening on 12 March 2005, in previews and closing on 4 September 2005, after 8 previews and 177 performances. Directed by Anthony Page, it starred Kathleen Turner as Martha and Bill Irwin as George, with Mireille Enos as Honey and David Harbour as Nick. Irwin won the 2005 Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Play for his role. The production transferred to London's West End at the Apollo Theatre with the entire original cast, running from 31 January to 13 May 2006. In January 2007, the production played at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, for one month. On 6 February 2007, the production began a six-week run at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles.
"Notably, it was this 2005 production that led to the publication of a revised script – one that has been used ever since – although many of its revisions were introduced in earlier productions. Among the revisions was the removal of early references to George and Martha's son, as well as the reference to the fact that George felt that he helped cause his parents' death, which was originally the subject of his failed novel. A roughly seven-page scene with George and Honey at the end of Act II has also been removed completely. These and other changes seem to be there to clarify plot points, but arguably rob the play of some of its ambiguity and tenuous relationship with realism."
And here's one more tidbit about the play from the same Wikipedia entry: "In 1970, Henry Fonda and Richard Burton attempted to recruit Warren Beatty and Jon Voight for an all-male production, but Albee refused permission." I would love to hear more about that!
Tuesday, August 25, 2026
Some Albee appetizers...
Next Wednesday, Sept. 2, we'll be discussing Edward Albee's play, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. In preparation for that, Mike Mazza has compiled several short TV parodies of the play he found on YouTube:
Second City Television
Saturday Night Live
Benny Hill
Mike wonders where there are even more like these online, and says: "I suppose folks could view these either as appetizers (with possible spoiler warnings) before reading the play, or as palate cleansers post-reading!".
Second City Television
Saturday Night Live
Benny Hill
Mike wonders where there are even more like these online, and says: "I suppose folks could view these either as appetizers (with possible spoiler warnings) before reading the play, or as palate cleansers post-reading!".
A Queerty quiz
Queerty, an LGBTQ website that bills itself as "Free of an agenda (except that gay one)," recently published an article asking: "How many of these classic queer books have you actually read?"
Our group has discussed a very respectable six out of 10, and I've read two others. See how you score!
As a bonus, here's a link to another Queerty article on gay literature, "Gay guys share their favorite books by queer men." Many of these will be familiar, but there are some intriguing suggestions in the mix.
Our group has discussed a very respectable six out of 10, and I've read two others. See how you score!
As a bonus, here's a link to another Queerty article on gay literature, "Gay guys share their favorite books by queer men." Many of these will be familiar, but there are some intriguing suggestions in the mix.
Tuesday, August 18, 2026
Classic LGBTQ literature
Our friend Bruce Dunne recently shared the following info with me:
"I just came across a list of 21 LGBTQ+ books in the section of the New York Review of Books website where one can look up books by theme. It surprises me how few I am familiar with (other than J.R. Ackerly and Jan Morris), and it occurred to me that some may be of interest to the group. Cheers, Bruce."
Our merry band has read both Ackerly titles in the compilation--We Think the World of You (in 2015) and My Father and Myself (in 2013)--as well as John Horne Burns' The Gallery (in 2015) and a different book by Jean Genet than the one recommended here. As the time for our annual process of nominating books for next year's reading list approaches (stay tuned for details!), I invite you to take a look at this list to see whether any of these titles intrigue you enough to propose them.
"I just came across a list of 21 LGBTQ+ books in the section of the New York Review of Books website where one can look up books by theme. It surprises me how few I am familiar with (other than J.R. Ackerly and Jan Morris), and it occurred to me that some may be of interest to the group. Cheers, Bruce."
Our merry band has read both Ackerly titles in the compilation--We Think the World of You (in 2015) and My Father and Myself (in 2013)--as well as John Horne Burns' The Gallery (in 2015) and a different book by Jean Genet than the one recommended here. As the time for our annual process of nominating books for next year's reading list approaches (stay tuned for details!), I invite you to take a look at this list to see whether any of these titles intrigue you enough to propose them.
Encouragement, not clutter
Writing for The Conversation, a site dedicated to "analysis from scientists and medical doctors," Michelle Spear, an anatomy professor at the University of Bristol, explains "Why you keep buying books you don't read--and why it feels so good."
"Some might call this clutter," she acknowledges. But "the Japanese have a far more elegant word for it: tsundoku. The term describes the habit of acquiring books and allowing them to accumulate unread. It combines the idea of stacking things up (tsunde), leaving something for later (oku) and reading (doku). The result is a concept that captures the quiet optimism of a pile of books."
Prof. Spear elaborates on the phenomenon in her essay, and after reading it, I feel a lot better as a proud practitioner of tsundoku than a mere hoarder. Hopefully, you will, too.
"Some might call this clutter," she acknowledges. But "the Japanese have a far more elegant word for it: tsundoku. The term describes the habit of acquiring books and allowing them to accumulate unread. It combines the idea of stacking things up (tsunde), leaving something for later (oku) and reading (doku). The result is a concept that captures the quiet optimism of a pile of books."
Prof. Spear elaborates on the phenomenon in her essay, and after reading it, I feel a lot better as a proud practitioner of tsundoku than a mere hoarder. Hopefully, you will, too.
Monday, August 10, 2026
Mike M.'s Kiss for the Spider Woman
The 11 of us who attended last week's discussion of Manuel Puig's Kiss of the Spider Woman enjoyed a lively discussion of the novel. That prompted Mike Mazza to look up the review he posted on Amazon 25 years ago of Kiss of the Spider Woman and Two Other Plays.
Spoiler alert: Mike was (and is) a fan of Puig's work. Perhaps it might be worth our taking a look at the other two plays in that volume at some point?
Spoiler alert: Mike was (and is) a fan of Puig's work. Perhaps it might be worth our taking a look at the other two plays in that volume at some point?
TL;DR = DNF?
No, our blog hasn't suddenly become a conduit for mathematicians or cryptographers to pass secret messages! :-)
Many of you are probably already familiar with the term on the left side of the equation, which is shorthand for "too long; didn't read." It's most often applied to online articles and posts, and sometimes carries a whiff of disapproval about an overly indulgent author who expects readers to wade through dense writing that doesn't offer a payoff for the time spent.
Now "TL;DR" has spawned a new term for book lovers: DNF--"did not finish." This New York Times article explores the debate between completists--who insist that if you start a book, you should finish it--and readers who say life is too short to waste time on something you're not enjoying.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I'll note that I am a completist by nature. But as I grow older, and am increasingly aware of how many books I'll never get to, I'm becoming more and more sympathetic to the DNF perspective.
Many of you are probably already familiar with the term on the left side of the equation, which is shorthand for "too long; didn't read." It's most often applied to online articles and posts, and sometimes carries a whiff of disapproval about an overly indulgent author who expects readers to wade through dense writing that doesn't offer a payoff for the time spent.
Now "TL;DR" has spawned a new term for book lovers: DNF--"did not finish." This New York Times article explores the debate between completists--who insist that if you start a book, you should finish it--and readers who say life is too short to waste time on something you're not enjoying.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I'll note that I am a completist by nature. But as I grow older, and am increasingly aware of how many books I'll never get to, I'm becoming more and more sympathetic to the DNF perspective.
A Radiant Dawn at Little District Books
Little District Books, the LGBTQ bookstore now on Pennsylvania Ave. SE, is getting into the publishing game! For its first project, LDB is soliciting contributions to Radiant Dawn: A Queer Hopepunk Anthology, a short story collection it plans to publish in the spring.
Coined by author Alexandra Rowland, "Hopepunk" is defined by weaponizing kindness, community and optimism to overcome oppressive systems. It doesn’t fit neatly into any one genre, which offers authors a lot of options. Visit this site for more details on the project and submission guidelines.
Coined by author Alexandra Rowland, "Hopepunk" is defined by weaponizing kindness, community and optimism to overcome oppressive systems. It doesn’t fit neatly into any one genre, which offers authors a lot of options. Visit this site for more details on the project and submission guidelines.
Tuesday, July 21, 2026
A year after Andrea Gibson's passing...
Last year, I posted a couple of items about the late, great Andrea Gibson, who served as Poet Laureate of Colorado from 2023 until their passing on July 14, 2015. In her honor, Poets. org (which puts out the Poem-a-Day newsletter I so often reference here) recently published several of Gibson's poems:
Wellness Check
Spider
Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps
Photoshopping My Sister’s Mugshot
Wellness Check
Spider
Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps
Photoshopping My Sister’s Mugshot
Thursday, July 16, 2026
Anniversaries that should be less Secret
Last night, we discussed the final tranche of short stories in Lev Raphael's Secret Anniversaries of the Heart, published 20 years ago. I think I speak for those of us who have been discussing these stories in third-Wednesday Zoom meetings over the past year when I say that it has been one of the most satisfying anthologies in our group's history. (Thanks, Mike Mazza, for nominating it!).
If you have any interest in short-form fiction, you owe it to yourself to check out this book.
If you have any interest in short-form fiction, you owe it to yourself to check out this book.
Monday, July 13, 2026
Happy 100th Birthday, Allen Ginsberg!
I'm a little late to the party, but did want to note that poet and activist Allen Ginsberg was born on June 3, 1926. Back in 2011, we read a graphic novel version of his most famous novel, Howl.
For a detailed list of centennial celebrations (a fair number of them happening in the Big Apple, appropriately), visit The Allen Ginsburg Project. And if you're interested in a less hagiographic take on the poet's legacy, I recommend this recent op-ed from The Guardian: "Beat legend, ‘boy lover’: How should we reckon with Allen Ginsberg’s complex legacy?"
For a detailed list of centennial celebrations (a fair number of them happening in the Big Apple, appropriately), visit The Allen Ginsburg Project. And if you're interested in a less hagiographic take on the poet's legacy, I recommend this recent op-ed from The Guardian: "Beat legend, ‘boy lover’: How should we reckon with Allen Ginsberg’s complex legacy?"
Friday, July 10, 2026
Lavender Con is in two weeks!
Little District Books, Washington, DC's all-queer independent bookstore, will be hosting Lavender Con 2026 on July 25-26. The festival celebrates LGBTQIA+ authors and stories; tickets are available for either day or both.
Tuesday, July 7, 2026
A new Golden Age of LGBTQ lit?
Writing in the June 28 New York Times, Aaron Hicklin, a bookstore owner and former editor-in-chief of Out magazine, lays out a provocative thesis:
"It is not a stretch to call the past few years the richest period for queer fiction since 1978, when Andrew Holleran published Dancer From the Dance, Larry Kramer published Faggots and Edmund White published Nocturnes for the King of Naples." He goes on to assert that "This is not simply a story of representation getting its due. The audience for literary fiction has long skewed toward women and gay men. What has changed is the industry’s willingness to acknowledge that and the many straight women who are willing to read about gay characters."
I think Mr. Hicklin lays out a persuasive case, and Lord knows I want him to be right! Yet this paragraph, in particular, gives me pause: "According to data compiled from BookScan, sales of LGBT. fiction (excluding digital sales) were roughly $8 million in 2015, the year Hanya Yanagihara published A Little Life, heralded by Garth Greenwell as a great gay novel. By 2025, annual sales of LGBTQ. fiction had reached more than $80 million, a tenfold increase over a decade in which fiction more broadly has struggled. Over the same period, sales of literary fiction fell to around 33 million books per year from around 36 million."
Here's my question: Is being a bigger fish in a shrinking pool a sign of vitality or less competition? Or both? I encourage you to read the op-ed and decide for yourself.
"It is not a stretch to call the past few years the richest period for queer fiction since 1978, when Andrew Holleran published Dancer From the Dance, Larry Kramer published Faggots and Edmund White published Nocturnes for the King of Naples." He goes on to assert that "This is not simply a story of representation getting its due. The audience for literary fiction has long skewed toward women and gay men. What has changed is the industry’s willingness to acknowledge that and the many straight women who are willing to read about gay characters."
I think Mr. Hicklin lays out a persuasive case, and Lord knows I want him to be right! Yet this paragraph, in particular, gives me pause: "According to data compiled from BookScan, sales of LGBT. fiction (excluding digital sales) were roughly $8 million in 2015, the year Hanya Yanagihara published A Little Life, heralded by Garth Greenwell as a great gay novel. By 2025, annual sales of LGBTQ. fiction had reached more than $80 million, a tenfold increase over a decade in which fiction more broadly has struggled. Over the same period, sales of literary fiction fell to around 33 million books per year from around 36 million."
Here's my question: Is being a bigger fish in a shrinking pool a sign of vitality or less competition? Or both? I encourage you to read the op-ed and decide for yourself.
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