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Quentin Crisp was 89 at Christmas, 1997, God and/or Satan willing (which s/he or they was/were). Never has such a sweet, gentle man been wrapped in a package so unappealing to right-wing morons and generally no-fun types before - and long may the queen reign.
It is difficult to summarize the man. He is British, but has lived in America since 1981. He was an art-school model, a hack writer of books on subjects he knew little or nothing about and a thorn in the side of British society for fifty years before moving to the States.
For all this, he is more of a man determined to live his life (and not necessarily to justify it) than either an apologist or a radical.
In any case, this book consists of his clever, insightful observations about gay culture; movies; books and much more from 1990 to 1993, and is just a delight to read, if clearly the product of an older man with some outmoded ideas.
I was somewhat disconcerted that a man who called cops 'excrement; and 'wallowing in darkness; in his Naked Civil Servant (1968) was more conciliatory to them now. I hope to still find the State's agents reprehensible when I am his age - but it is, despite this, an enjoyable, mildly bitchy read.
If you need escapist, cheery songs to simplistically lift your spirits and distract your mind from the tribulations of life - if you want a soothing voice (in terms of words AND sound) - LEAVE NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN! YOU HAVE JUST ENTERED DIAMANDA GALAS TERRITORY!
Diamanda Galas is a singer/musician/AIDS activist and (this I was unaware of until I read the book) former immunologist. Her work can rarely be described as sunny or cheerful, because it delves in dark areas, but there is an element of hope and righteous anger and a desire to overcome in her material that is heartening in an entirely more complex way.
I had heard of the woman for many years before I laid ears on her voice (which is powerful and frightening and majestic and loving all at once, both lyrically and sonically), but the first description I heard, 'demonic diva', suits her (bearing in midn that 'demon' used to mean any spirit, good or evil). In this respect, it is entirely appropriate that Clive Barker, the horror novelist and gay man who has doubtless lost friends to the 'plague' Ms. Galas rails against, wrote the foreword for this collection of her best lyrics from 1981 to 1996.
Some of these pieces, I do not know the music, but they stand very strongly on their own as mere words on paper - a high tribute to the average pop song lyric.
Diamanda has, ironically, been adopted by many Goths as some kind of vampire goddess - a situation she has said she finds funny at best and pathetic at worst. If anything, she is more of a Valkyrie, carrying tired warriors off to the halls of eternal cheer and battle and watching over those left behind to goad them on to a victory we must win.
The Men With The Pink Triangle and similar books suffered from the lack of concrete, primary documentation of Nazi persecution of homosexuals - largely because it would have been difficult to find the evidence until about 1969 in Germany, when anti-homosexuality laws were repealed (the Nazi internment was legal, so why would records be kept of crimes that did not occur?) - not to mention the problems with finding people willing to talk about their experiences, then (and certainly now). As to lesbian persecution, the evidence was even more lacking (to date, as far as I know, there has not been a book written by a lesbian survivor of concentration camps who was imprisoned for that reason, as there was one written by Heinz Heger for an anonymous man). Furthermore, what records there were were probably well-hidden or buried in footnotes (leaving aside for the moment the conscious omission of same due to homophobia).
Well, no more. This book compiles massive amounts of letters, documents, first-hand accounts (such as of the destruction of the early queer activist Magnus Hirschfeld's Institute, recounted from both Nazi and Institute points of view, where enormous quantities of queer rights movement material was gathered, studied and safeguarded) and legal proceedings to demonstrate what exactly happened to queers in Germany at that time.
This book also deals with the lesbian question, in a special section. There is still not much data available (in fact, because they tended to be lumped under the black triangle for anti-social behaviour (i.e. not reproducing for the Fatherland), only the fact that two records survive specifically stating that lesbianism was the reason for the imprisonment would allow us to know this ever happened), but it is more than has ever been published before.
This is certainly not exciting reading - there is very little explanatory text - it is mostly collections of primary documents - BUT it does add up to a picture of a grim moment in history. As such, it is definitely worth taking a look at, so that it is not forgotten when the last survivors die out...our memory too must be carried to the next generation of queers, so that they know to fight back against the Right while they can...
(Ed. Note: Sadly, as of March, 1999, it would appear to be out of print).
This is a collection of essays and speeches given by Harry Hay (1912- ), the founder of the Mattachine Society in 1950, an American organization dedicated to combatting homophobia.
It was nice to hear that its conciliatory, nice phase followed Hay's departure - the records I've had access to never made that clear...
He is fierce but funny. Who else would recommend that, when arrested, you should answer the statement: 'Nice day, isn't it?' from a cop with 'I'm not guilty, and I'd like to speak to a lawyer before making a statement.' Priceless...
Some of his statements over the years are enough like things I've said lately that I shiver with recognition. For example, in 1970, he said: "What have Free Peoples to do with politely masked repressions of one another?" (p. 198) and "Shame me, call me names, resolve me to a position I do not hold - vote my presence to an action against my grain - and I'm long gone" (pgs. 199-200). Far too true of our new, 'responsible' gay community...looking for scapegoats, and manufacturing common ground through deceit and identity politics...shame, shame...
These essays and speeches, particularly on the issue of how queer culture can be constructed, are insightful and well-argued, as can only be expected of a former Marxist music teacher. For historical purposes, they are crucial; as thought-provoking reading, even more so.
Skinheads/gays. The mainstream communities, queer and straight alike, tend to think of them as mutually exclusive (if 'united' in outsider status). Given incidents of Nazi skinheads beating and killing queers (among others), some hesitation is doubtless understandable (and I cannot stand on a pedestal and deny ever feeling uneasy when I see unfamiliar skins walking down the street, either).
Oddly, though, there is also, at least in Britain, a fetishizing of the skinhead package. If gym or military looks exemplify the clone here, the skin is the Brit icon.
This book explores the phenomena of both this worship and actual queer skinheads and examines the history of the skinhead movement (rightly pointing out its roots in anti-racist ideology, while not glossing over its perversion into hate groups and also not denying the participation of queer skins in this mindset).
The author gets a tad windy and could question the duality of "masculinity" and "queerness" being seen as both in opposition (as many believe) or even allies (the macho ideology of skinheads has not left queer brothers untouched) a bit more, as each is dangerous in its own way when hard lines set in.
All told, the book is intellectual, but not oppressively so, and rewarding reading that avoids any kind of talk-show approach.
(Ed. note: Sadly, as of March, 1999, it is still in print, BUT only in a $69.95 US
hardover edition).
Richard Hell was one of the pioneers of the NYC punk scene in the early 70s. He also had a marked tendency to leave and/or be "encouraged" to leave bands just before they became famous, if not rich (Television; Johnny Thunders' Heartbreakers), perhaps explaining why he wrote a piece entitled "You Gotta Lose".
This book is what literary types would call a roman a clef (a 'key novel' - one in which the characters are real people in disguise - you don't need to know that to enjoy it, but it helps).
The narrator, Billy Mud, is a drug-addicted, poor manipulator/musician (the Hell-prototype in the book) in NYC in 1980.
The narrator also has a French girlfriend (corresponding neatly to one of Hell's paramours).
There is little on Mud's long-suffering band, except for cameos by an unsympathetic, anal guitarist (cross of Tom Verlaine of Television and Robert Quine from Hell's the Voidoids?).
The basic plot is a road trip across America and the adventures generated by people and situations Mud and his girlfriend meet on the way. It's certainly sordid, surreal and sometimes bleak - but hardly 'vile' (as a recommendation(?) on the jacket says).
The language throughout is funny, poetic and powerful, often at once. For a 175-page novel, it's packed full of ideas and imagery. In fact, even the fashionably vague ending (that 'repeat chorus to fade' effect found in many recent books) fits...because if anyone just sort of drifts along (often into interesting corners), it's Richard Hell...and this book visits just as many fascinating stops along its way...
Bernard Jay was Divine's manager for the last nine years of the big celebrity's life.
As such, Jay was in a position to see Divine behind the screens and get to know him better than the rest of us would have, since they traveled together.
It is a story too many of us queers (and more than a few straights) can relate to. Growing up unloved and picked on; wanting to become a star to show these people you are someone special; discovering stardom doesn't make you happy; getting trapped in all the pitfalls of fame and generally finding being a star isn't much better unless you're a Star (and that has bigger price-tags attached to it).
Jay is clearly fond of his only client, but not so 'in love' as to not give a picture
of an unhappy man who wanted to lose Divine and be Glenn Milstead again. It's not well
written from a technical point of view, and Jay's relative lack of insight into the early
days of Divine/John Waters movies was disappointing, but it is still an interesting read.
Yes - another recounting of the NYC punk scene of the Seventies and Eighties - first-hand accounts by band members, their friends, their lovers, and so on.
As eye-witness views, they tend to strip some legends and create new ones.
It is not especially sordid, as the authors have tried to get all sides - but it is still not pretty, most of the time.
It is interesting to compare the perceived reality of intimates to the image generated by artists' personas. Patti Smith, for example, comes across as more of a star/diva than you would think, while Debbie Harry is a down-to-earth, almost motherly figure.
Revealing - and, unlike some books of this sort, well-organized and cumulative in its effects.
Valerie Solanas was the woman who shot Andy Warhol, and started a group called SCUM (Society for Cutting Up Men) of which she was the only member. She also wrote this manifesto about how women could take over the world and overthrow male power.
As she was evidently a somewhat troubled individual, some of this material suffers from scattered focus and questionable logic. However, the men who abused her as a child and when she became a prostitute probably had something to do with that, I think...
The material about family, capitalism and the need to destroy the system in order to liberate women is brilliant, however.
The stuff about literally killing men is a bit much for me, since I don't think that is achievable or particularly desirable (but, then, I wouldn't). It does hearten me somewhat to see that Valerie considered gay men superior to straight men (even though she shot one). All told, a thought-provoking, certainly never dull and often quite funny document.
Another book on the Velvet Underground - a composite of various articles written from 1966 to 1995, including priceless interviews with Maureen Tucker and the late Sterling Morrison excerpted from the elusive WHAT GOES ON fanzine (and an interview with Nico which proves that Lou Reed may actually be the second most difficult subject to ask questions of from that crew) and information about Angus MacLise, their drummer in 1965 only, except for a two-week stint in 1966.
There is an extensive discography, though it has not been updated since 1986, so there are a few tiny omissions and out-of-date facts.
The analysis of 'Sister Ray' was a bit intellectual. However, it does answer a question I'd always had - there is a small section of the piece on which Maureen does not play (2 beats).
I speculated she needed a break from the relentless pounding; instead, it turns out she was supposed to tap on the drum-rim, in response to the words "Who's that knocking on my door?", but the special mic did not get turned on, and the band was determined to do the song only once.
My only real complaint would be the lack of pictures in the book; however, there is a nice colour cover shot of the band with Nico, and I've never seen such a photograph before, so that's pretty neat...
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