With all the excitement over the up and coming queer authors of our time–Ocean Vuong, Lydia Conklin, Douglas Stuart, David Santos Donaldson, Nicole Dennis-Benn, Edward Cahill, to name just a few–it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that many of the pioneers of queer lit are still writing some damned good fiction. In the past two years, QueerReader has strongly recommended new fiction by Edmund White, Andrew Holleran and John Weir. And this year Armistead Maupin and Stephen McCauley published two superb new novels.
As QueerReader has pointed out before, Mr Maupin’s and Mr. McCauley’s novels have a good deal in common. Both are expertly crafted. Both are frequently funny. And both remind us that it’s okay for a plot to sometimes be dialogue-driven, as long as the dialogue is very, very well-written.
,The news that Armistead Maupin has written another Tales of the City novel must be met with a smile. For those of us who assumed that the series ended with the death of Anna Madrigal in The Days of Anna Madrigal, this news is a delightful surprise. Mr. Maupin achieves this resurrection by setting this novel in the early nineteen- nineties. In another surprise, Mr. Maupin sets this new novel in the Cotswolds–where Mona Ramsay has decamped along with her adopted son, Wilfred.. The mood is somewhat more somber than in most of the Tales of the City books. Michael Tolliver has lost some of his youthful exuberance–in large part due to a recent HIV diagnosis. Nevertheless, Anna Madrigal is here and reading this novel felt like coming home to a long-lost family. Mr. Maupin once again recycles his “biological” family versus “logical” family line. And the mood is warm–even when a Jesse Helms supporter arrives for a (paid) visit.
Reading Stephen McCauley’s novels always reminds this 
Queer Reader–ever so slightly–of Raymond Chandler’s work. Mr. Chandler made a conscious decision to put something extra on each page. And consciously or not, Mr. McCauley manages to put something clever–and frequently funny–on just about every page of his novels. But while Mr. Chandler’s “extras” are frequently heterosexist, Mr. McCauley’s are infused with a queer sensibility that is all his own. Just one example:
“Ignorance is rarely bliss, although it’s true that a certain fuzziness about the nutritional details of French pastry makes it easier to enjoy a beignet”.
You Only Call When You’re in Trouble is set in two places: Woodstock, New York and a college campus in suburban Chicago. When Cecily arrives in Woodstock it isn’t as much to see her mother Dorothy as it is to run away from the college where she teaches and the man she is married to. Cecily is in the process of being investigated for sexual misconduct. A student has wrongly accused her of kissing her. Her marriage is troubled. So it’s natural for her to wind up on the steps of an old converted barn her mother has recently, irrationally purchased.
For this QueerReader, this novel really comes to life in Woodstock. Mr McCauley perfectly renders its retro sensibility. And his depiction of Dorothy is so detailed that it’s almost impossible not to find her complex story compelling. QueerReader won’t reveal the twists and turns of the plot, except to say that once again Mr. McCauley has written a perfectly crafted novel–with just enough surprises to keep the pages turning. And oh, those extras!
Needless to say, QueerReader strongly recommends these two novels.
Armistead Maupin’s Mona of the Manor is published by Harper.
Stephen McCauley’s You Only Call Me When You’re in Trouble is published by Henry Holt.