Sarx

I finished reading Wayne Hoffman’s Hard: A Novel last night before bed. It was an enjoyable read - very lighthearted and, given my own history, a bit of a romp down memory lane. In the interest of full-disclosure: Wayne and I first met at a bar - Ty’s - in Greenwich Village in July of 1997, a few months before I moved to San Francisco and we have been in contact off in one for the last decade.

In the short: enjoyable read. Summer’s coming - this would be good by the pool or at Bear Pride/IML in Chicago. Or just on the Subway on the Morning commute. Like any book about people in NYC, some of it won’t mean much, some of it will mean too much and some of it will go over the head of anyone who doesn’t live there.

Wayne (hereinafter, WH) presents a fictionalised account of some really true things: what’s true and what’s not is not the point of this review nor can this reviewer document all the breakdown. But I do recognise some of the plot points as real. The story Wayne wove around them is very fun.

Basically, the story revolves around Moe, a man who, like the author, is a writer living in NYC’s Greenwich Village. In the book’s pages, Moe and his circle of friends goes through several moments of drama and day-to-day life in New York. In a lot of ways the picture WH presents is sort of a cross betwen Tales of the City and the Buddies trilogy (now a five book series). There are surprise meetings and serendipitous crossed communications. There are strange moments of connection. If such events seem strange, these are real: that’s how I met WH a week after I met his boyfriend.

Moe’s nemesis is Frank, a bereaved widower, former gay activist who now uses his power against parts of the gay community that Moe finds terribly important: sex clubs, adult theatres, etc. More on this in a moment.

Although Frank is Moe’s nemesis, WH, as author, presents Frank in a very likable light - outside the plot in one of four “insight” chapters. Each one of these chapters explores one character: Moe, his best friend, Aaron, Gene, Moe’s ex, and Frank. These “insight” chapters explain what gets each man “hard” emotionally or mentally, hence the title of the book. Each such chapter explores, without moral diversion, the background and rationales for each man’s sexual drives. These chapters - and their lack of condemnation - form the unifying theme to the whole book: sort of a psychological map of sex, at least as far as the plot goes.

They also humanise everyone equally. It would be fun to see this one as “the good guy” and that one as “the bad gay” but that won’t work. There are moments and times when each character - especially as presented in light of the “insight” chapters - is shown to have a weakness, a flaw or even a downright hateful quality. At several points each character can seem terribly shallow, terribly egotistical, terribly immoral. But each character also has redeeming qualities. Each player in this drama has qualities that make him a real friend: ie human qualities, neither too good or too bad. They each do good things. They do strong things - open an office, run a newspaper, write or stage a Broadway play, earn a degree. They do powerful things: organise political protests, suffer bereavement, deal with loss, comfrot friends in grief. I’d be happy to know all of these people, yet I’d probably what to be hanging with Moe: although as a writer, I know that all characters hold a part of the author’s personality, as I told WH, Moe is the character in whom I can most clearly hear the author’s voice.

A couple of issues rise up as important in the book - although because of the fictional context in which they are raised, they may pass the reader by. Or they may seem totally unimportant to the uninitiated - or to non-residents of Manhattan. These are two that lept up to me - although the author may have intended others to be seen. One issue is collusion: as Nemesis, Frank has some interesting supporters in his crusade to rid the world of unsafe sex. Conservative politicians and activist directors who want jobs again (Moe’s boyfriend) and prudes all gather around a gay activist because what he does is what they want. They have different goals, but their ends turn out to be the same. This comes clean in Frank’s “insight” chapter when what he wants is a return to the 70s disco era - which was great until you remember that, compared to now, those guys were politically oppressed, even if sexually libertine.

The other issue raised is sexual freedom. Assuming I understand the argument, Moe’s point is well made: The choices we make are really our own choices - issues of health, sickness, etc, do not provide a basis for the Gov’t (in this case, the NYC Gov’t) to make such choices for us. I disagree with WH on this point, especially as folks on the Left and Right sides of the Aisle seek ways to provide healthcare for all in our society. It *is* the responsibility of the Gov’t to curb ways in which public action might endanger not only human life but the public chest or even raise insurance rates. My own sexual liberation does not give me the right to act in ways which may force you to pay more taxes. But it does imply that you treat me - and I you - as adults who can make choices. I do not mean say - like Frank in the book - that public facilities need to be closed. Rather I’d suggest they be taxed after the manner of cigarettes - a vice tax that makes public sex venues, clubs and theatres so expensive as to be prohibitive. And I’d expect this tax to be passed by businesses on to the end user, no pun intended.