Life Drawing Loth

there's lots of nice things about the state of contemporary gay literature, but a book like "Life Drawing" brings home just how thoroughly the HIV/AIDS epidemic decimated queer literary life. this beautiful, gentle novel is not about the agony and loneliness of gay life, or the agony and loneliness of coming out, or any of the cliches that have come to dominate so much of queer fiction. it's sad and it's moving and it's quiet, and the tragedy is not just that michael grumley died - not just that this marvelous novel is out of print - not just that so many of the editors and agents and audiences who nourished and supported a vibrant queer literary life are gone - but also the fact that we've learned so little from books like Life Drawing.

Adolescent Michael McGinnis has grown up in the 1950s in a small town on the banks of the Mississippi in Iowa, leading a fairly normal life: a steady girl, working as a caddy in his school holidays, pursuing his interest in art. But he recognises his relationship with his girlfriend is lacking, then he meets a young guy who drives him to a disused quarry, and so he discovers his real self. He then takes off, securing passage on a Mississippi barge heading for New Orleans, meets and falls in love with an eighteen year old affectionate black man James; just a year older than himself but considerably more worldly-wise. They set up together until an indiscretion on Michael's part brings it to an abrupt end, whereupon Michael escapes to California with hopes of becoming an actor. Whatever else he achieves through his travels, his experiences make him a man as he realises and regrets his errors, and he begins to retrace his steps. This is a well written and warm story, evocative of its period and its locations. As Michael McGinnis relates events there is very little in the way of dialogue, and as he shares his thoughts and observations we really get into his mind, understanding how he thinks. The book includes an informative foreword by Edmund White and afterword by George Stambolian about Michael Grumley and Robert Ferro.

& #65279;Being true to yourself is almost impossible without being true to others. This is one lesson the hero of "Life Drawing" almost learns. At its heart, this book is about relationships. Mickey is looking for a place to fit in. He loses his chance with James because he is blind to the fact that his place is already secure. As the innocence of Youth drowns in possibilities, this journey of discovery stretches down to New Orleans and extends to the West Coast. The journey is areflection of the one we all must take and the opportunities we recognize or ignore.

There are two "losses" here: the author's loss of his first love, a kind man named James, to impulsive infidelity (the author's); and the world's loss, that of author Michael Grumley, to AIDS, ten years ago. This autobiographical novel is many things: well-written, simply told, generous to his quite wonderful family and the place he grew up in. It's also heartbreaking because the reader knows from the outset that Grumley has died of AIDS; the introduction is a beautiful one, a eulogy really, by Edmund White. A good book for gay teenagers -- the observant and comforting portrayal of childhood, adolescence, and (blissfuly untormented) emerging sexuality amidst the comfort of a good family is refreshing and heart-warming. The descriptions of nature, people, and New Orleans are precise and seem effortlessly well-wrought. The requisite trip to early- 1960's California is (sanely) made brief, and Grumley returns home to Iowa none the worse for wear -- and ready to take on his future. I really liked this man and the story he tells, and it breaks my heart to know that's he's gone.