ManLoveMonday: Not a Review

10 September 2008

I have a hard time reviewing my favorite books. I've never actually done a full review of Meljean's Demon Moon because I knew I could never accurately explain my top notch level of high pitched squee. I loved so much about it and it filled me with such a reader high (you KNOW what I'm talking about. It's why we read...finding that perfect book... again...) that I realized I couldn't explain, to my satisfaction, what I felt while reading.

I couldn't do it justice..therefore, I just pimped the eff out of it.

So: Black Rook in Rainy Weather, right? I mean, sometimes, something just happens to alter your experience, maybe it's the external, or the internal, or some strange combination...and that book is rendered luminous. Gorgeous. And maybe it doesn't make sense to everyone...they'll say, damn that book was good, but, uh, luminous. lb? Okaaaaayyy.

Well, yes. I have very few of these beacons of perfection (I mean, MY notion of perfection) on my keeper shelf including (but not limited to): Demon Moon, Dreaming of You (Kleypas), To Kill a Mockingbird, 50 poems by ee cummings, and if you laugh at this I'll cry, Now We Are Six (A.A. Milne), and now Death of a Pirate King.

Which is such fucking drama for me to say. BUT hear me out. This thing is like a master class in how to write m/m romance. It's an epic love story on par with North and South. It's a skillfully planned marriage of romance/mystery and my pal Josh? He brilliantly embeds Jake's coming out within the mystery. It's dark and painful and yet...the moments that you need, the hope and the sweetness that is Adrien, are just below the surface.

It's an agonizing journey for my much beloved Adrien. Adrien, who has now...lost his youth. Not his beauty, or his charm. Not age, really, but his laughter. His sarcasm has turned to jaundice and he's dark, bordering on bleak, and still you love him, because he is, no lie, the best guy you know. But he's hurt. Each revelation for Adrien, each heartbreak, is masterfully crafted. And while Adrien makes hard, and desperate decisions in his personal life, he's still unmatched in my eye for likability, determination, and strength of character.

And Josh Lanyon delivers all this in that spare, stark, exquisite style for which he's known with such breath taking ease. Emotion rips through the text without....bullshit. He always shows without telling...always lets those small moments shine. Always waits to play his hand until it counts....

Yeah. See. It's a gushy, gooshie love fest.

21 September 2008


Given that I read this book, as a gift, during a very bleak evening, I guess it's fair to say that I view it through a film of gratitude. It was a dark time. It's been a dark time. I tried to review it early, tried to find a happy place to review it from, tried to wave my wee pirate flag with my friends, as you know. Initially it was much like Demon Moon...I just liked it too much. I wrote all that earlier stuff a while ago...And then...things unraveled in my personal life and I now find that I can't even open the book without my heart grieving a little too much. I think, lately, my heart is as broken as Adrien's.

However, I do want to wave my tattered flag, although perhaps with less enthusiasm than I am noted for.

::cough::

I can't say two thumbs up or A+...what does that even mean for a favorite book? That it is on par with a sip you loved? Or a well written Harlequin? No. A keeper, a desert island keeper, should be more than that. It should be luminous. It should bring you someplace new and special and rekindle that joy of reading that hooked you to begin with. It should transcend the ordinary.

I realize that all this is tangled up with grief and grace and this dreadful last few weeks and that, clearly, I've lost my objectivity. I am unable to separate all these experiences. Adrien's story, Josh's gift, have become my black rook during this terrible time.

So. Whatever...there it is. A tribute, I guess.


Anyway: I'm sorry there is no interpretive dance...And to Mr. Lanyon: I believe you did all the things you set out to do. More than satisfactorily. *G*

Selections

A few selections from Adrien. He's still my hot bff.

“I realize that duck confit never goes out of fashion,” my mother said, discarding the elegant foldout brochure she had been browsing, “but I was hoping for something with a little more…verve.”

Verve. Yes, because what’s the point of eating food that just tastes good? Not that duck confit with pomegranate molasses on crispy rice paper exactly fell into my “just tastes good” category. I’d have gone with crab puffs if it had been left to me.

But apparently Lisa was speaking Nina Hawthorne’s language. “Of course,” Nina said, very businesslike. “I know the exact thing.” She opened a binder stuffed with gorgeous photos of comestibles -- I mean, you couldn’t call that stuff anything as plebeian as food. “Grilled New Zealand lamb lollipops with a blueberry port wine sauce.”

“Oh my,” Lisa murmured, gazing at the sumptuous photograph. She glanced sideways at me. “Adrien?”

Yep, she was enjoying this way too much.

“Lamb for an SPCA banquet?” I said doubtfully.

Lisa made a little exasperated sound. Another woman would have smacked her forehead. “He does have a point,” she said regretfully.

But he's also at that dark place. And trying desperately not to succumb.

The shop was quiet and warm. I went upstairs to my flat, let myself in. It was too warm up there as well. And too quiet.

There were no messages on the answering machine.

I changed into a soft gray T-shirt and faded, comfortable Levi’s and tried to figure out what to eat. I knew I needed to eat something, but I couldn’t think of anything that sounded appetizing. I wasn’t sure there was anything in the cupboards; I’d got into the habit of relying on Guy to bring home takeout.

I opened doors, examined shelves, but I just couldn’t work up enthusiasm for ramen or oatmeal -- and the cornflakes were stale. I could run out and get something, but I didn’t have energy for that either.

Giving it up, I went into the front room and poured a brandy. I sat down in one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs and…suddenly I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do.

Ever again.

I closed my eyes. Everything seemed like too much effort. The silence seemed complete and final. I could just about hear the dust settling around me. What did I used to do before Guy?

Sit around wishing Jake would call?

No. Because it was Wednesday, and Mondays and Wednesdays had been “our” nights together. Work and his straight life permitting, Jake had turned up like clockwork on my doorstep and in my bed. In fact, by the end he was turning up more and more frequently and less scheduled, and ironically I had thought that was a good sign, that we were moving closer to each other.

What the hell was the matter with me? Sitting here feeling sorry for myself, drinking brandy -- which was definitely a no-no for now. I’d been fine. For two years I’d been perfectly fine. This was silly. This was sad.

I got up and spilled the brandy down the kitchen sink, opened a can of salmon, and dumped it on a plate.

I just adore that Adrien English. He's got grit.

Finally, what so many strive to do, Lanyon nails with gorgeous precision.

Little bright lights flashed behind my eyes and once again I had that sensation of flying…like I was floating through the air in a pirate galleon, sailing dizzily through the stars and clouds and swooping over the sparkling seas like the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland -- flying away to Never Never Land. And I probably never should have -- I could hear the too-hard thump of my heart in my ears -- too big for my chest -- but it was done now and no regrets.

My lips are sealed

I can't tell you what happens in this book..how it concludes, what it's secrets are because it would ruin the story for you. All I can tell you is that it's a dark walk through a difficult landscape and, unlike so many m/m authors who spoon feed us a preposterously unbelievable HEA, Josh Lanyon make us work to get to where we need to be. He makes us believe this journey because we take it with Adrien. It's real.

And it really spoke to me.

Also: YES that's Brandon Boyd. Pfffft.