Book Review: The Beauty of Men (Andrew Holleran)

As I’ve read The Beauty of Men over the past several months, I’ve been reading sections at our South Bay Writers Open Mic and commenting that “this book ought to be horribly depressing; but it’s so beautifully written that I keep reading.”
 

True—although it did take me awhile to finish.  I realized, after I got about halfway, that “nothing was happening.”  That’s a cliché, of course.  Peeved readers love to complain about how “nothing happens” in books like Kerouac’s On The Road.  But it seems to me, if writers are supposed to “show not tell,” then it isn’t a question of whether something “happens” or not.  It’s a question of whether the reader is being given an experience.  

I felt I was experiencing something in Holleran’s book.  With him, I always feel I’m experiencing something.  I may or may not like it—but that’s a separate question.

Lark, the protagonist in The Beauty of Men, has moved to Florida to care for his quadriplegic mother.  Behind him lies New York and the gay life of the late 1970s (portrayed in Holleran’s book Dancer from the Dance).

We share the experience of visiting the nursing home, and imagine what it must be like for his mother to have spent the last twelve years there.  And we experience what it is like for Lark to make his regular visits and to live now in Florida, after his endless partying in New York and the onset of the AIDS epidemic.  We’re carried back to those earlier times and we experience the deepening epidemic, which leads one to believe that “everyone is dying.”

Yet life goes on.  Lark hangs out by a boat ramp at an out-of-the-way lake, hoping to pick up men.  He does—and falls in love with a man who after one night refuses to have anything more to do with him.  Lark pines, Lark drives past the man’s home.  This goes on for a year.  Finally—around page 200 (spoiler!)—the man confronts him.

I love Holleran’s writing style.  This is what keeps me reading.  If you can read this without becoming depressed—and without insisting that something “happens,” this might be a good book for you.

Polyamory: The Beauty, The Pain, The Commitment, The Challenge

I was still rather depressed when I woke up Saturday morning.  How, I wondered, will I ever market my poly-pagan novel when my friend who wrote the gay novel says there’s no market for that?

But I get up and head for the local park for another friend’s Ceremony of Commitment.  She and her lover are committing to a life together.  Not a simple wedding, since they are each married to someone else.  But the spouses are there and fully participating in the ceremony, conducted by a man who looks the part of a Rabbi (I don’t know whether he actually is or not).  Family members are also present.  I hear friends speaking of their own poly experiences, or of their newness to the poly concept.  It is moving to hear people speak of opening their lives to include their spouses’ lovers.

Then I’m off to a Pagan Beltane ritual, which begins with a May Pole dance.  Then comes the actual ritual, with much talk of flirtation and merriment and rutting, the season of the Lady and the Goat.  And in fact the weather has turned warm and inviting.

Nevertheless, I’m still absorbing the news of the Cleveland women imprisoned for ten years, and other people’s stories of rape and abuse.  I’m still thinking about the Pantheacon workshop on Sex Positivity.  How do we promote sexual health and sanity in a world where sexuality is so often and easily turned to abuse?

And that evening I watch the film Pariah with my girlfriend.  It’s the story of an African-American woman coming to terms with her attraction to other women, and society’s reaction to it.

Well—we must find our way forward, together.

Anthems (6) – Interlude “Down Under” (New Zealand, Australia)

I’d never heard the anthem of New Zealand or Australia, so I went on YouTube to see what they sounded like.
 

I have to admit, I started out fairly non-committal.  But anthems can be sung at all sorts of tempos and in all sorts of styles; I reserve judgment.  Both anthems, at first, seemed okay but not terribly inspiring.  Both now are growing on me.

As I’ve said, national anthems are meant for the people of the nations in question; an outsider will never react the same way as a native.

I was intrigued by some of the comments I noticed on YouTube.  One person called one of the anthems a dirge.  This was understandably met with some indignation from a loyal citizen.

I began with the intention of avoiding the confusing of these two countries.  People here, in the U.S., forever connect them, I think; and they do both share British heritage; yet they are quite different, both in history and geography—and I always stress this to my friends here.  Yet the more I listen to the two anthems, the more I seem to confuse them.  I’m going to have to work on this!  Perhaps—again—because the recordings I’m listening to are sung in a similar, rather “pop” style.  But also, perhaps, because I sense they both have something, again, of the Anglican-style hymn in them.

The sense of the Australian anthem is that Australia is blessed with many riches, let’s do good things with them.  I’ve always felt this was a good approach for a national anthem.

The New Zealand anthem has verses in English, but also in Maori.  The Maori, apparently, is now sung first.  This reflects, in multiple ways, differences between New Zealand and Australia.  At first I found the English lyrics a bit expansive—asking God to defend the country; speaking in the following verses of the desire for peace but expressing the willingness to fight for the land if it is threatened.  By comparison, the Maori lyrics seemed simple and straight-forward:  Bless us, God; may Good flourish.  Defend the Land.

But I only have the translation for the first Maori verse, so I’m at a disadvantage here.

I’ll be listening to both of the anthems more.  They are little-known in the U.S.  Check them out on YouTube.

What intrigues me most, at this point, is how I am mixing the two melodies up, in spite of my determination not to.  Is it me, or the music?

Anthems (5) – Russia (finale), Canada, and Israel

One last thing about the current Russian national anthem that I like very much—and which also bothers me, although it also challenges me.

 

The chorus ends with the phrase, “We are proud of you!”

Part of me says that this is the whole point:  To be proud of your country.  And how wonderful it is to have a country you can be proud of!

Still, another part of me asks whether this isn’t impossible.  Can anyone be proud of their country?  What does it mean, “to be proud,” anyway?  In what sense are you proud of a country that may have committed great crimes in the past, and may still be unjust—or at least imperfect?  Your country may have done great things, may be great, but—I’m just not sure.

That goes for all countries.  Can anyone be proud?  Still—If it is possible, how wonderful it would be:  To have a country you can be proud of, and to be proud of it!

Now, concerning national anthems, many people criticize the anthem of my own country, the United States, and wish we could have an anthem that is more beautiful, more singable, more like…one of those other countries; more like, say, Canada.

And “O Canada” is a lovely anthem—beautiful.  I’ve known the music for a long time; ever since I spent a month in Canada with my fiancée back around 1974 (her family was Canadian).  As far as the words, mostly I remembered “the cold north bold and free.”  Which turns out to be wrong.  It’s “the True North strong and free!”  I remember that “we stand on guard for thee.”

On the whole, I like the music (although I realize now that I think it sounds like an Anglican hymn); but to me the words seem only “adequate” (sorry!).  We love our country and guard her.  That makes sense, after all.  But….well…I…um…

And, curiously, the French version is rather different.  Roughly:  Ready to fight or be at peace, valor and faith will protect the land.

So I have fond memories of “O Canada,” but…I wish I felt more inspired.

As also with “HaTikvah,” the Zionist and Israeli anthem.  I found the music and words back when I was studying Biblical Hebrew in college.   The music may or may not be related to the main theme of Smetana’s “The Moldau” (“Vltava”)—the theme seems to be related to several different songs from several different countries.  Because I first heard this theme when I was nine or so, I’m biased in its favor.  Someone asked why I hadn’t included “HaTikvah” in my catalog of anthems.  Well—again—as with “O Canada”…I like the music, but I’m ambiguous about the words.  They speak of the two-thousand-year longing of Jews to return to the Land of Israel.  I’m not Jewish.  I can understand the longing intellectually—but I don’t feel it in my gut.  Perhaps you have to be Jewish.  Pretty—and haunting—the melody, though—a fine song.