A New Generation Has Arrived

For gay & lesbian titles, an evolving marketplace and a new—and younger—readership

By Charles Hix -- Publishers Weekly, 4/23/2001

At the April 19, 1945, opening of the legendary Broadway musical Carousel, the audience thrilled to the number "June Is Bustin' Out All Over." Since then, being "out" has acquired a new meaning, and so has the sixth month, which is now designated National Lesbian and Gay Book Month. The commemoration was initiated in 1992 by the Publishing Triangle to coincide with Gay Pride Month.

Assessing the LGBT (lesbian/gay/bisexual/transgendered) book scene in 2001, Triangle chair Charles Flowers opines, "The publishing landscape is steady. Distribution remains a challenge. That's why InsightOutBooks.com is the most exciting thing to happen in the last year. Book clubs are a sure way to develop a niche. The net is developing into a major force in selling gay books."

Co-editor of the online book club launched last summer, David Rosen reports that InsightOutBooks now boasts 11,000 members. He reveals that literary gay fiction is the topselling category at the club, with humor second. "The real new story is the emergence of what I call 'hijinks in high school' books dealing with sexuality in high school. When I went to the march on Washington last year, it was an eye-opener that so many young folk were there. The next generation of gay folk are coming out earlier."

This phenomenon is reflected in the fact that two mainstream houses are openly addressing the issue of same-sex teen experience in novels directed to an ages 12-and-up readership. Due from Viking in August, Empress of the World by Sara Ryan focuses on two gifted high school girls who become more than friends. From Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing in October, Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez features a high school jock who dreams of having sex with guys and finds the courage to attend a meeting for gay teens. In nonfiction in July, Beacon Press sends forth When the Drama Club Is Not Enough: Lessons for the Safe Schools Program for Gay and Lesbian Students by Jeff Perrotti and Kim Westheimer, who contend that issues of gay and lesbian identity and self-esteem need to be addressed at the middle and elementary school levels.

It is noteworthy that a brand-new house, Two Lives Publishing, has chosen to focus on books with LGBT themes targeted at children in gay and lesbian families. Two Lives also has a Web site—TwoLives.com—to serve as a resource for alternative families. Nonetheless, familial conflicts between gay children and straight parents remain a constant theme in much LGBT fiction.

But some straight parents are coming out emphatically in support of LGBT offspring. Keep Singing: Two Mothers, Two Sons and Their Fight Against Jesse Helms (Alyson, May) by Patsy Clarke and Eloise Vaughn, with Nicole Brodeur, recounts the struggles of two North Carolina grandmothers, each having lost a son to AIDS, to persuade their senator to stop his homophobic rhetoric and policies. Rebuffed, the women formed MAJIC (Mothers Against Jesse In Congress). They failed to drive Helms from office but became heroines at the 1996 Democratic Convention in Chicago.

Kim Brinster, manager of the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookstore in Manhattan, comments, "Just the other day a straight man telephoned to say that his 15-year-old boy had just come out, and the father wanted a recommendation for a book to give his son. The father knew he wouldn't get the same attention at Barnes & Noble. I found that affirming."

Grousing about the chains is hardly new, but this year, given the demise of two high-profile gay bookstores, Glad Days in Boston and A Different Light in New York, the grousing is even more vociferous. Ed Hermance, owner of Giovanni's Room in Philadelphia, says, "The biggest danger is the destruction of outlets. The chains by their nature are only interested in the 15 topselling gay and lesbian titles. They're not interested in the top 15,000 books the way we are. Our sales in November were the worst since before 1988, when we were half our present size. I'm sure it's because our customers were depressed by the election. One gets the feeling the Bush administration is not going to be fighting for us. I have the ghastly idea that George Bush and Congress aren't interested in AIDS. We're going to have people dying again, in higher numbers again."

Significantly, the number of books dealing primarily with AIDS is down compared to 2000, which had fewer AIDS titles than the year before. AIDS is now more likely to be treated as an incidental fact, not a focus.

Keith Kahla, general editor in charge of Stonewall Inn Editions at St. Martin's, reports "slippage" of sales in all categories of LGBT books. "In the summer of 1998 I published a humor book, Husband Hunting Made Easy by Patrick Price, that in the first six months after publication sold over 2,000 copies at the three outlets in the Different Light chain. By contrast, in sales to date the title has sold fewer than 2,000 copies in all stores of the Barnes & Noble chain. So my answer to the idea that A Different Light closed because of competition from the chains is 'Piffle!' "

When requested to comment on its commitment to servicing the gay and lesbian communities, a B&N spokesperson offered this official response: "Barnes & Noble has always had a gay and lesbian section in our stores. We host in-store events year round, including Gay Pride Month."

But not everybody is singing the blues. Felice Newman, a publisher at Cleis Press, enthuses, "This is our best year yet. Gay Pride and the book industry's focus on it, it's a mini-Christmas for us. Sales have a nice little bump in May, when the orders are made, and in June. The visibility of displays at chain stores and at independents is very valuable. At BEA, booksellers tell us about setting up displays and the results they bring. Straight booksellers find how many gay people they have in their clientele. The seasonal bump is great, but, more importantly, booksellers become aware of who their communities are."

Also on the positive side is the diversity of LGBT titles that keep springing forth from all manner of publishers. Continuing a trend noted last year, poetry is a surprisingly hefty subcategory, with no fewer than 10 new collections scheduled for 2001.

Sidebar

Final Chapter

The first sentence on the acknowledgments page of Michael Nava's Rag and Bone (Putnam, Mar.) imparts this stunning news: "This book brings to an end this series of mysteries and my career as a mystery writer." The revelation will leave many fans bereft. Since 1986, when the series began with The Little Death (Alyson), loyal readers have followed the fortunes and misfortunes of California-based gay Mexican-American attorney Henry Rios, defender of the defenseless. Four of the first six books have won Lambda Literary Awards. Nava's heartbreaking fifth installment, The Death of Friends (1996), concluded with the AIDS-related death of the protagonist's beloved Josh.

In the seventh and final mystery, Henry, after suffering a heart attack, is reunited with his estranged lesbian sister and learns that she has an illegitimate daughter, now grown, with a 10-year-old son. When his niece confesses to murdering her husband, Henry takes on her defense, uncovers secrets and, along the way, rediscovers love. Of Rag and Bone, Nava says, "It's a happy book." Of himself, he says, "The last three or four years have been the happiest of my life." Even so, he insists, "I'm going to take a long rest from writing."

What prompted this decision to end the series? "I'm not interested in writing about being a homosexual any more," Nava replies. Does he know why? "Yes," he answers instantly. "I'm older. I'm now 46. There are other more meaningful things to think about. I've returned to the Catholic Church. I'm a practicing Catholic again." He relates, "From 1986 to 1992 was really a high point for our generation in terms of writing and readership. That period coincided with AIDS activism. It was exciting to be a writer then, despite the horror. Now the belief that AIDS is a containable disease (which I'm not sure is true) has made it a less compelling topic."

Nava currently lives in San Francisco, where he is an attorney for the California Supreme Court. Like his fictional alter ego, he is a third-generation Mexican-American who was raised in the Sacramento barrio of Gardenland. In the past, Nava described himself as a writer who also practices law, not as a lawyer who writes. He now says that when he began writing fiction, mysteries seemed the appropriate vehicle because, "In the American tradition of crime writing, the protagonist is an outsider looking in, which describes the experience of most homosexual men and women. The mystery lends itself to a writer who comes from an outsider group, because the protagonist of the American mystery from the beginning has been an outsider who embodies the virtues society purports to value—decency, courage, loyalty, a sense of justice tempered by mercy—but rarely exhibits. My protagonist, Henry Rios, certainly fits this mold."

Nava believes gay fiction is losing resonance with its audience. "Gay and lesbian young people, like their Generation X straight counterparts, don't read much. They don't look for images of themselves in books anymore the way our generation did. Young people can see themselves on TV and in movies, in the mainstream media." In consequence, he sees a cultural and political diminishment in the importance of gay bookstores. "With the greater acceptance of homosexuality today, there is not a need for the safe houses that gay bookstores used to represent. The missionary age is over. The bookstores did their job. Time moves on."

Unlike many gay writers who wear the mantle of defenders of gay community and identity, Nava declines to assume such a pose. He contends, "The notion of a gay community is a demographic invention to sell political candidates and vodka, as far as I can tell. Homosexuality is not a sufficient basis upon which to establish even a personal identity, much less a communal one. What gay people share is a subculture, not a community. Homosexuality is part of who I am that has diminished in importance as I've grown older, and I am certainly not prepared to be lumped in with a lot of other people with whom I have only this relatively minor attribute in common." He adds, "I realize people think I'm a crank, but so be it."

If and when he returns to writing, what subject might attract him? "I'd like to write about baseball. I love baseball." Tellingly, Henry's romantic interest in Rag and Bone is a bisexual former professional baseball player.

In the final sentence of his final mystery's acknowledgments, Nava writes: "It also seems appropriate to give thanks to my readers, who, by your support, have created a place for these books in the tumultuous literary marketplace."

Adios, Henry Rios. Au revoir, Michael Nava.