A Short Visit with an "Old Friend": James Baldwin

Ever since I read Giovanni's Room in high school, I've always thought of James Baldwin as my friend. I know this is kind of wierd, because I never had the honor of meeting Mr. Baldwin and I've often wondered if we would even get along. As a child of privilege in almost all-white Winnetka, Illinois, I had almost nothing in common with James Baldwin. As a teenager I actually found myself wondering if we would be sexually compatible. I suspected we would not and this simple realization made me conclude that a relationship probably have been impossible. (Congreve was onto something when he wrote that "Hell hath no fury..." line, but he could have easily ended it with "...like a gay man scorned.") None of this, however, could change my original opinion. In my mind, James Baldwin forever remained my friend.

And so it was with much anticipation that I picked up the latest Baldwin biography. As the title suggests, Baldwin's Harlem: A Biography of James Baldwin deals as much with Mr. Baldwin's historical context as it does with his personal life. The author does not dwell on James Baldwin's sexuality, but neither does he skirt it. Reading this intelligent, skillfully-written biography, I grew to be the most impressed by James Baldwin's bravery. Because many of the most vicious attacks on him came from other African-Americans. And these attacks were often homophobic. None of these, of course, could stop him. Or even slow him down. He appears to have possessed inner resources the rest of us can only imagine.

Baldwin's Harlem is 272 pages long. It's a short visit with him. But nonetheless satisfying.

Herb Boyd's

Baldwin's Harlem: A Biography of James Baldwin

is published by Atria

Another Queer Memoir...

If you are looking for another book about a queer teen-ager's relationship with his eccentrically grandiose mother, Robert Leleux's The Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy may be for you. Mr. Leleux is a skillful writer; he carefully renders his fabulously be-wigged mother and the tiny Texas town he inhabits with her. His writing style is breezy and easy to read--frequently amusing, occasionally humorous. Such as when he describes his realization of his own gayness as "...kind of like those movies where a young person is suddenly told she's a member of the Russian aristocracy and in response asks: 'Is that why we have all those samovars in the garage?'"

The story isn't particularly compelling: boy meets boy. And it's a g-rated production; sex isn't described at all in the book. This is an unfortunate choice, because the reader is deprived of important information. Such as: Does the narrator have oral or anal sex with his partner? Do they use condoms? Do they get HIV tests at any point? None of these questions are answered in the book. So why the self-censorship? Afterall, this is literature, not an episode of Will and Grace. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that Mr. Leleux chose to label this as memoir. And the characters in the story are (apparently) all still alive. But the reason this is unfortunate goes beyond mere reader curiosity, because here Mr. Leleux misses a vital opportunity to illuminate his own character. For a memoir this is not a particularly introspective book. Ironically, the least developed character is the narrator. And that's part of the reason of the reason the emotional climax is ineffective.

Although I can't recommend this title, I believe Mr. Leleux is a queer writer to watch. If his next book is fiction, it might just be great.

Robert Leleux's

Memoirs of a Beautiful Boy

is published by Saint Martin's.