So, wound up rereading John Rechy's The Coming of the Night over the past week. While it's a lot less verbose than City of Night, it covers similar territory while illuminating the end of an era.
We're in Los Angeles in 1981, opening on Jesse in the morning, as he prepares to basically screw his way to a massive release in the night. (A note on structure here. We get multiple focus characters, and we follow them from morning until Night.) The Sant'Ana winds are blowing and the entire city is on edge. We meet Zha Zha, the drag queen porn director, doing a "rehearsal" in the hills for a closeted producer. We have Clint, who's come to LA to get away from some issues in NYC. We have the black cowboy who hates being fetishized for being clack, we get the muscle guy who's worried that his size isn't enough for people. We have the older queen, who sees himself as above the lowlifes out cruising the streets, even as he cruises himself. We have Paul, who's boyfriend is off screwing around in San Francisco. We have the straight hustler, doing men for money. We have Father Norris, who is asked by a woman in confession to go save her son, who has a naked crucifix tattooed on his back while he's busy hustling.And we have the leather guy, who winds up plotting the orgy for Jesse's birthday in the park at night. And lest we forget, we have the roughnecks out to go queer bashing.
It's quite funny in several spots, as almost everyone in here keeps mentioning how to avoid a hookup once you think the other person is saying no, as Zha Zha's party finds the stars switching roles randomly; but there's also some really painful moments as Clint reveals that he's running for a gay cancer that took out one of his friends in New York, as father Norris chases shadows, as the queer bashers wind up getting bashed themselves.
Ultimately, it's the portrait of the days right before AIDS, when sex and sexuality were the reward for the sheer amounts of shit society poured down upon the queers. Sadly, as we all know, it got worse.
Well worth reading.
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