Reflecting on gay life between the pages

By SANDRA THOMPSON

© St. Petersburg Times, published July 15, 2000

Not everyone is reading Harry Potter.

On Monday night at the Peninsular library branch in South Tampa a group of 18 men and one woman met to talk about the work of Andrew Holleran, a pre-eminent chronicler of gay life who lives outside Gainesville. A banner proclaiming the group's name, Rainbow Readers, was tacked up on the brick wall, and an American flag stood in a corner.

Chairs were arranged in a circle in the less-than-cozy room. This was the first meeting at the library for what Ric Sullivan, the group's founder, calls Tampa Bay's only gay and lesbian book club -- though he points out, with a few exceptions, women just don't attend. It's been meeting each month for more than two years -- formerly at The Center, a storefront on Henderson Boulevard serving the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community that closed in June and left its support and social groups scrambling to find new homes.

Most of the men were dressed in casual clothes -- shorts and T-shirts, athletic shoes; others, in slacks and ties, looked like they'd come straight from work. Ages ranged from the 20s or early 30s to the 50s, a significant spread in terms of gay life -- and the reaction to Holleran's books. The first, Dancer from the Dance, published in 1978, is a groundbreaking novel of gays in pre-AIDS New York City. The most recent, a collection of stories published last year, reflects the passage of time in its title, In September the Light Changes.

Sullivan opened with a comment on that book.

"If this book is autobiographical, I found it very depressing," he said. He then read a sentence: "The worst thing about getting old is becoming invisible."

Sullivan paused. "It was just incredibly depressing."

One of the men held up a book signed by Holleran when he appeared at the Times Festival of Reading in St. Petersburg a few years ago. He wrote: "For Gary. Why can't I get laid?"

Everyone laughed.

"The aloneness of gay life is a theme running through all of Holleran's work," commented one young man who'd urged the group to read this author. "You can have a large group of friends, but eventually you go home alone."

Another of the younger men said one reason is the characters in Holleran's books focus on superficial emotional highs like drugs and too much sex.

"Too much sex?" one of the older men asked.

"There is such a thing as too much sex," the younger man countered. "There are other ways to live. You can just rent a video and go to bed."

Sullivan wondered how they reacted to Dancer from the Dance when it was first published 22 years ago. Not much was out there for gays; John Rechy had written about anonymous, emotionless sex. Larry Kramer had just brought out Faggot, the title splashed across a bright cover that made it too embarrassing to pick up. There were no gay and lesbian sections in bookstores.

"I was young, growing up in a tract house," said the man who'd recommended the books, "it made me just want to run through the streets screaming, "This is what I want!' "

A few years later AIDS decimated New York City's gay scene, and Holleran moved to Florida to care for his invalid mother.

One of the men said he's grateful Holleran writes about that aspect of gay life. "Gays care for parents, because they don't have children. It's a real big thing -- especially in Florida. In this room, many of us will find ourselves in that situation."

Everyone agreed on the beauty of Holleran's writing. On the life-affirming quotient of the work they did not. The two most vocal young men found his books fascinating, often funny -- "It's like Ab Fab!" -- and, ultimately, hopeful.

On the other hand, one of the older men asked, "Why does he write books that make you want to take a long bath with a toaster?"

The writer is a loner, said a man who had not yet spoken. "Even in Dancer he's one step behind the crowd."

"Isn't everyone like that?" another man said. "No one thinks he's really in part of the crowd.

-- Sandra Thompson is a writer living in Tampa. Her column appears occasionally.

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