Edmund White Books

Edmund White writes beautifully and this narrative is flowing, interesting, and compelling. White writes as if he is developing a 1980 memoire about the 1960s. But at the core of this novel is a dilemma that is never fully answered in the novel and is probably never really answered in the lives of gay men and women. Other reviews and reviewers do an excellent job of telling the narrative details of this novel, but underneath this narrative is a question regarding identify and identity development.

The basic question is whether gay men are born gay and thus they come out through a process of ever more intense and meaningful gay experiences and friendships and relationships with a broad cast of characters or whether gay men learn to be gay and take on a gay identity through emersion into various relationships with significant persons who teach the youth how to be gay. The brilliance of The Beautiful Room is Empty is that White is able to weave both of these concepts together into a whole cloth of experience, never fully answering whether the power of the instinctual sexual identity is paramount and is revealed in a series of vignetts and character studies with friends and lovers or whether the passion and identity are more diffuse and coagulate around core external experiences where gay identity is learned and reinforced. Both are deterministic models, whether it be a biological determinism or a social structural determinism. Internal reality is always checked against external reality in White's narrative. The drive to sexual expression is the impetus toward self discovery in much of the book, rather than a less sophisticated approach wereby sexual expression is taken as just one component of a series of relationships.

Overall the book is a very good read, shocking in some parts as public bathroom sex is described, but always about an unfolding reality that is heavily influenced by events and relationships.

White is clearly one of the finest prosaists in the last half of the 20th C. America. His mellifluous writing and lucid exposition have earned him the wide respect that he deserves.

"The Beautiful Room is Empty" is a sequel to his earlier "A Boy's Own Story," the evolving process of coming-out gay in the Sixties. The first novel scouts the adolescent years; this novel covers early adulthood. Much has changed in the way that people come-out today, versus the time when being gay was stigmatized by everybody. Curing homosexuality was seen as viable by both the queer himself and by the anti-queer establishment. Fortunately, while coming-out may still be a demanding process, it is far less traumatic than a few score ago, because of these earlier pioneers.

In an almost plotless chronicle of coming-out, the focus is on the author's first-person's introspection of dealing with himself and the gay world as it was then. The ways in which people connected were far more convoluted, clandestine, and often illegal. It wasn't much of a life, until the Stonewall riots liberated gays from their false imprisonment. It not only opened new avenues by which to meet and socialize, but it also rejected the premise that gays should be neither heard nor seen. The toll these older restrictions had on men and women must have been truly appalling, causing much externalized homophobia to turn inward.

To see how far the GLBT community has come in the past 40 years is itself a witness to these earlier pioneers. We owe it to them to hear their story, especially when it's this well-told.

A continuation of A Boy's Own Story, this book is no less well written and no less brilliant. It is no wonder that White is considered--by the worthy, literate critics, at least--the finest gay writer in America. I would modify that to say he is one of the finest writers (gay or otherwise) in the world today. This book cronicles the life of ABOS from shortly after that book leaves off through the Stonewall riots in New York in June of 1969. The narrator's growth is evident from the end of the last novel through the end of this one. This is one of the most important works by one of our most important writers; White is the nearest writer to Proust to write since, though minus the cork-lined apartment and with quite a few more social graces.

The Beautiful Room is Empty is extemely poetic, and it is deeply moving. i love this book, and cannot express how well i related to the character. granted, i would suggest that you read the first autobiographical book A Boy's Own Story first, because it will enable you to feel for the characters better.

Edmund White's 'Beautiful Room' is a moving, wonderful story, crafted around the late teens to late twenties of the narrator, known only as 'Bunny' to his friend Lou, one of the many lively, memorable characters encountered along the way, as well as Tex, a flaboyant bookstore owner, who gives 'Bunny' his earliest education in 'gay slang.'

'Bunny', at the beginning of the novel, is a prep-school student coming to terms with his homosexuality, by engaging in anonymous sexual encounter after encounter in the boy's bathrooms, where his lovers are seen only from waistline to knees. He dresses and plays the part of the dutiful prep school student by day, but once class is out, he drifts toward the bohemians, gracing the coffee shops of their 1950's and 60's lives, watching them paint, sharing their surrealist literature and poetry, and secretly lusting after the males. A child of divorced parents, his father determined to make a man out of him, his mother convinced that all he needs is a cure, the narrator carries us along on his ride, meeting many notable characters along the way, that shape and influence his gradual acceptance that he is gay.

Following his school years, when he enters the work force and the real world, the words of a school-friend come back to haunt him, that 'some day he will have too much freedom,' freedom to choose where he goes, what he does, and who he is. He drifts along from job to job, from lover to lover, Lou, Fred, and the frequent pick-ups from Christoper Street, until he meets Sean, a closeted young man who leads 'Bunny' to question his own identity as they both enter group therapy to try and overcome their 'illness' and go straight, with very different results.

Culminating at the famous Stonewall site, Edmund White provides readers with a grand tour-de-force of growing up gay in the 50's and 60's in Chicago and New York.

Sometimes poignant, sometimes emotional, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, 'Beautiful Room' is a beautiful book, with a beautiful story to tell. The narrator, presumably White himself, as the book is supposed to be autobiographical, slips from identity to identity as he tries to find his own. Young and unsure of himself, he tries to be what everyone else wants him to be until he finds himself.

Although this story centers on a gay man, the book speaks volumes to anyone struggling to find their own identity, and the choices and mistakes we all make along the way.

Jean Genet wrote masterpieces...this autobiography is a masterpiece too !!!

Jean Genet wrote masterpieces,this autobiography is a masterpiece in itself !

This is the most detailed study of Genet ever written - and it deffinately sheds some light on his character both in writing and in life. I refer to it constantly when I am reading his books. I wish there were biographies like this of some of my other favorite authors - without a doubt I am excited to read White's book about Proust.

Edmund White is perhaps best known as a novelist but this biography of Jean Genet may well be his magnum opus. (And I find it astonishing that it seems to be out of print as of May 2007, since there is no other decent English biography of Genet available.) It's a monster of a book, but it's one of the more readable literary biographies that I've come across--not least because "literary" in Genet's case also means social and political and scandalous. Readers who have never read a word of Genet may question the need for perusing this book, but it was my introduction to the work and, as I work my way through Genet's prose, I appreciate difficult or seemingly unfathomable passages all the more because of White's memorable explication (although I can't share White's enthusiasm for the plays).

Genet's "rebellious" worldview--which often comes across as much a stage-managed affectation as a genuine philosophy--may be unattractive to those of a more traditional ethic (and I include myself among that group), but it's never boring. Much of Genet's writing depicts, glorifies, and justifies his careers as a thief, as an outsider, as an anarchist; he was also a notorious freeloader who forsook the attractions of materialism yet siphoned the wealth of others--and who sapped the remarkably patient generosity of his publishers).

Genet idealizes his years at Mettray (a colony for adolescent delinquents), his life as a thief (which ended in 1944, after he had completed two books and earned the approbation and support of Cocteau), and "the erotic charm of prison" (his many convictions for petty theft earned him sentences totaled nearly four years). And it's a good thing his writing is so remarkable: as White never tires of pointing out, Genet was a famously bad thief who spent so much time in prison because he was most adept at getting caught.

White covers far more than Genet's own life and work and lovers, however; this biography is also a decent introduction to the Parisian literary set that included such luminaries as Cocteau, Beauvoir, Duras, Giacometti, and Sartre. Since I was more interested in the literature, I had feared that the appeal of the biography would flag once I reached Genet's later years, after he had stopped writing and spent his time supporting various political causes (Algerian independence, pro-Palestinian movement, Black Panthers). But these chapters, too, were riveting and essential for an understanding both of his life's ethic and of his posthumously published "Prisoner of Love."

Overall, White makes a convincing case for Genet's importance, arguing "Genet and Celine are the most discussed twentieth-century French writers after Proust." I'm not sure I would go that far (Camus? Sartre? Beauvoir? Ionesco? Beckett? Gide?), although I suppose it depends on who's doing the "discussing." Nevertheless, White has certainly presented a solid case that Genet belongs in the top tier.

Following the rags to riches life of Jean Genet is an interesting reliving of French literature and history. Edmund White is certainly capable of empathy and psychological understanding for Genet, unlike in his biographies if William Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg. Though White makes the mistake of trying to incorporate some Michel Foucault, the homoseuxal philosopher, into his own penal insights into Jean Genet, the works and the man. Other than that fact, this handsome book is one long guitar solo at the altar of Genet.

Most of Genet's life is well-known, and partly used as the subjects for his novels. Genet was an orphan, had foster parents, and went to reform school. He had a bunch of early gay relationships, and he stole a lot of books. In prison Genet wrote Our Lady of The Flowers, and later shows it to Jean Cocteau, who is pissed off because he didn't write a similiar work first.

Genet wrote five novels and a few plays around and during World War II. They books are originally published anonymously. The books become an overnight sensation. As Genet becomes old and bald, and when the flamboyant Cocteau becomes bored with him, heterosexual Sartre and multisexual Simone de Beauvoir, both sort of yuppies of their time, become enamoured with the idea of hanging out and slumming it with Genet, a real thief.

Sartre saw him as a good example of his existential philosophy, and wrote Saint Genet. This book of his life came out when Genet was in his mid-forties. Genet doesn't write very much during the last years of his life. He does become involved with the Black Panthers and Palestinians.

Genet lived in Tangiers with his young Kiki. He wrote a final book that was banned before his death in 1986.

Genet's life was one long homosexual rollercoster ride. Genet's long life is an achievement which White gives a literary form in this tribute and gentle biography. As far as literary biographies go, this one is up there with the biographies of Oscar Wilde, Sade, and Frank O'Hara.

Tondelli descrive, con la forza evocativa delle sue parole, un viaggio al centro del nostro tempo. In Leo ritroviamo l'egoismo e la generosità, la ricerca del divino e il compiacimento nel degrado morale, lo slancio verso la frenesia delle metropoli e l'ansia di ritrovare le proprie radici culturali nelle tradizioni della campagna emiliana. Parlando di se, Tondelli parla di noi, di quanto sia faticoso assecondare ogni giorno la mutevole direzione dei nostri desideri e della nostra missione.

grande capacità evocativa associata alle parole. Un romanzo incredibile per la sua compattezza, la sua forza e fragilità. Si rimane sempre con la voglia di andare avanti, non tanto per scoprire qualcosa, quanto per godere delle immagini che riga dopo riga, magicamente si formano nella mente. Leggi la parte quando Leo torna al paese e passeggia per le vie del centro, guardando dentro le case attraverso i vetri delle finestre....uno tra i libri migliori.

Tondelli is able to touch us deeply with this awesome book in which the boundary between auto-biography and fiction seems to collapse in the telling of a wonderful love story. The crisis of the lost love and of the lost of youth are the main themes. The words flow constantly, without pausing and reaching the perfection of a masterpiece.

I picked up this little book completely by chance at the local bookstore the other day. This is the time of year when few new books are out and I have to dig a bit to find anything interesting to read.

I'd never heard of either the author or the book, but it was short enough so I bought it.

I was stunned. Tondelli pulls off, in 186 pages what some authors have been trying in several books to examine: Why do men stay together? (It was a complete coincidence that I read this book after reading "Comfort and Joy." The two books couldn't be more dissimilar.

Where "Comfort and Joy" is, in the end, optimistic about two men finding ways to love each other and live together, "Separate Rooms" is not.

Highly autobiographical, "Separate Rooms" tells the story of Leo, an Italian writer, and his lover Thomas. By the time the story begins, Thomas is already dead, and Leo is reflecting on their relationship and why it didn't work.

From the book:

"Now he had to give serious thought to the notion of living together with another man. But he had no models to follow, no experience to recycle and fall back on in this stage of their relationship. He knew that the love he still felt for Thomas would not be enough on its own. They would tear each other to pieces and that was the last thing he wanted... Living together meant believing in values that neither of them was capable of recognizing. How would their love end? Would they have no option but to normalize a relationship that society was in fact incapable of accepting as something normal? Would they not turn into the mirror image of those groteque homosexual couples where one does all the cooking and the other always goes to the market to do the shopping? Where the two lovers resemble each other in their attitudes, in their way of doing things, even in their facial expressions, to the point where they become two pathetic replicas of one and the same unbearable imaginary male, emasculated and effeminate?"

I haven't yet talked to anyone else who has ever read this book, which is a shame. It should be widely read.

Beautiful book! Simply heart-wrenchingly beautiful! What a precious little gem! I keep returning to search for another book by the author, even though I know he's dead... I get angry at him that he died before writing another... I guess it is one of those unique masterpieces where the write has written but one work.. but one. And the passion of a human facing his mortality exudes on every page: loss, love, memory, death, and all the other ghosts that haunt us... I will read it again and again and again!

Thoughts Etched In Jade is simply a joy! Mr. Delezen makes you feel as though you are walking beside him on his journeys. In the midst of chaos, I pick up this book and find myself wandering on a quiet path in Asia. I do not have adequate words of praise - I have just thoroughly enjoyed the book.

"Thoughts Etched in Jade," by John Edmund Delezen is an attractive collection of poems and photographs. This slim (44 pages) beautifully designed & laid out book includes 18 poems filled with words & thoughts that are meant to, "say little...and suggest much."

Delezen is too modest. He should have included a short "Introduction," to inform the reader of his love affair with the Vietnamese people, language & culture. Moreover, I think readers would be delighted to know of his long dedication to understanding the written and oral history of Vietnam. In many ways Delezen is a poet/scholar with a rare viewpoint and a gift for writing.

My favorites include, "Night Storm," followed by "Untitled," and "Con Gai." I must also add that the very first page of this book...the dedication to Dickey Chapelle, "a beautiful moth that flew too close to truth"...admirably captures the heart and eye. This compact book of poetry should be thrown into the backpack for walks into the woods in search of quiet spaces. Highly recommended.

Bert Ruiz

(Disclosure: This reviewer received an unsolicited copy from the publisher. What appears here was unaffected by that gesture.) "Thoughts Edged in Jade" is slim, attractive volume of Vietnam-oriented poetry. The same Marine veteran who wrote "Eye of the Tiger" wrote TEJ. Both are highly recommended. The soft tone of the poetry herein makes it plain Mr. Delezen has come to terms with the Vietnamese. . This reviewer liked "The Dispossessed", about those tragic humans known as "The Boat People". "Saigon Toujours" deals with the dawn of a new day in that strange place, which many of us refuse to call "Ho Chi Minh City". Other readers will nominate their favorites. One cannot conclude a review of TEJ without an acknowledgement of the highly professional production values therein. The photos are sharp and clear, the stock is heavy and firm and the typesetting is extremely eye pleasing. Issues that most ignore or suffer through are very well handled here. TEJ could almost qualify as a coffee table addition. It's that attractive. The bottom line to TEJ is that this is a Vietnam book-one more unique observation into that war which won't go away. Vets, or at least those who have traveled there, are encouraged to try TEJ.

First The Eye of the Tiger and now this wonderful volume of poems and photos. Delezan has perfect pitch for the atmosphere, the people and the emotion of Vietnam, a beautiful country filled with intriguing people, animals and views. His is a very evolved sensitivity to mood and emotion. John Edward Delezan will be recognized as one of the most perceptive western writers and observors of Vietnam.

John Edmund Delezen, an orphan,wresteled his livlihood from the horrows of the battlefield and the demands of the unforgiving sea. He combines a warriors mind, a poets heart and insight into the soul that is the province of only a very few men who have lived life on the edge. He sees a challenge in adversity, and finds hope when others despair.
A gifted writer and student of the culture of Vietnam, his "Thought Etched in Jade" is the first poetry that truly touched my soul in the seventy years I have been on this planet.Up until now I considered "Casey at the Bat" the only poem that made sense.

It always pays to look at things from another angle. You may discover they are not exactly what you took them for at the first glance. Reading this book gives you a perfect oportunity to look at literature not only from a very different angle but also through the eyes of an eminent novelist and a keen literary critic. You may quarrel with White, reject his views but one thing is certain - it is very difficult to remain indifferent. A perfect addition to White's novels and an unorthodox course in 20th century literature.

Edmund White is one of the foremost novelists of our day. He is also a literary critic and social observer of the first order.This collection of essays and reviews spans the period of the late 60's through the mid 90's and charts the changing views and mores of the gay world of which White is an important member. In addition, White's literary analysis of both well known figures such as Nabokov and lesser known poets and authors from all over is acute and thoughtful. White's discussion of his own work is invaluable to those of us, like myself, who are devotés and places it within the greater context of literature. Reading these essays and reviews made me want to explore further the authors and poets favored by the author, and that is what literary criticism is all about.

As a struggling writer I find it difficult to consult my creativity in a nurturing yet properly instructive way. One of the main difficulties is finding the right literary setting to allow my ideas to flourish (or at least a place to plant them). Until I read The Burning Library I was only familiar with White's fiction. I was apprehensive about his essays; that the power of his imaginary voice would be subdued in the realm of non fiction. It is subdued but it is no less brilliant, no less insightful, and no less stimulating. White rules his world with a brutal and sensitive brain; he debunks "myth" as he creates it. When the essays turn to biography it helps to be familiar with who he's talking about (I reccomend a class in contemporary French Literary Criticism) but it isn't necessary. White is accessible, provocative and entertaining. After reading these essays it took me a long time to return to fiction--both reading and writing it. These are inspiring articles; intellectual, risque, humorous, and most importantly... still chic. I am--as with all White's writing--inspired to create but usually disappointed with how short I fall in my attempts to be similar. I highly reccomend this book to anyone interested in gay history or the contemporary gay culture.

Of Edmund White1s novels, Caracole may be the most accessible to the reading public at large. It has a clear and impressive plot and a set of characters as arresting as Dickens. But as in every White novel, the words and the images they create are foremost. I cannot do better than to quote Cynthia Ozick in calling his technique "seduction through language." It has taken me two months to read Caracole. It deserves every minute. The author deserves the reader's closest attention. White is the consummate master of language. Much of the imagery is exotic, dreamlike and even nightmarish. Every sense is evoked with startling specificity. You need no cyber-gadgets to experience virtual reality if you absorb this book and let it unfold in your imagination.White commands the broad range of moods, shifting them with disturbing abruptness or lingering within one to delve into its deepest recesses. Most strikingly conveyed are the wonders, terrors, mysteries and curiosities of youth, the overpowering initiations of body and mind that shatter the realm of childhood. White invents a vocabulary for the inarticulate that is all the more powerful for its metaphorical exactness.Unlike White's other novels, Caracole is not a first-person narrative. By using the omniscient third person, White is able to probe deeper into the interiors of his characters. This device also allows him more scope for apt epigrammatic observations, particularly about youth, middle age and the relations across that divide. Caracole has been called White's "cross-over" novel. The characters are heterosexual and the plot evolves in large part out of the consequences of their appetites. White describes the female body and the male and female experience of straight sex as exquisitely as any writer of his stature. Reading Caracole after having read The Farewell Symphony, the last novel of his autobiographical trilogy, however, gives one a different perspective. Some situations and characterizations are virtually identical in each novel though appropriately translated in time, place and gender. This juxtaposition enhances Caracole's intrinsic humor and correspondingly deepens its pathos. It also underscores our common humanity, regardless of our sexual orientations.I have had the intoxicating adventure of reading all of Edmund White's novels in the past twelve months. (My next stop is his collection of essays and interviews, The Burning Library).Those who appreciate the power of the word should experience Caracole and indeed all of White's novels.

It has taken me two months to read Caracole. It deserves every minute. The book deserves the reader¹s closest attention. White is the consummate master of language. Much of the imagery is exotic, dreamlike and even nightmarish. Every sense is evoked with startling specificity. You need no cyber-gadgets to experience virtual reality if you absorb this book and let it unfold in your imagination.Of Edmund White¹s novels, Caracole may be the most accessible to the reading public at large. It has a clear and impressive plot and a set of characters as arresting as Dickens¹. But as in every White novel, the words and the images they create are foremost. The language is hypnotic in its power. White commands the broad range of moods, shifting them with disturbing abruptness or lingering within one to delve into its deepest recesses. Most strikingly conveyed are the wonders, terrors, mysteries and curiosities of youth, the overpowering initiations of body and mind that shatter the realm of childhood. White invents a vocabulary for the inarticulate that is all the more powerful for its metaphorical exactness.Unlike White¹s other novels, Caracole is not a first-person narrative. By using the omniscient third person, White is able to probe deeper into the interiors of his characters. This device also allows him more scope for apt epigrammatic observations, particularly about youth, middle age and the relations across that divide. Caracole has been called White¹s "cross-over" novel. The characters are heterosexual and the plot evolves in large part out of the consequences of their appetites. White describes the female body and the male and female experience as exquisitely as any writer of his stature. Reading Caracole after having read The Farewell Symphony, the last novel of his autobiographical trilogy, however, gives one an entirely different perspective. Some situations and characterizations are virtually identical in each novel though appropriately translated in time, place and gender. This juxtaposition enhances Caracole¹s intrinsic humor and correspondingly deepens its pathos. It also underscores our common humanity, regardless of our orientations.Those who appreciate the power of the word should experience Caracole and try all of Edmund White¹s novels.

Of Edmund White's novels, Caracole may be the most accessible to the reading public at large. It has a clear and impressive plot and a set of characters as arresting as Dickens'. But as in every White novel, the words and the images they create are foremost.

The author deserves the reader's closest attention. White is the consummate master of language. Much of the imagery is exotic, dreamlike and even nightmarish. Every sense is evoked with startling specificity. You need no cyber-gadgets to experience virtual reality if you absorb this book and let it unfold in your imagination.

White commands the broad range of moods, shifting them with disturbing abruptness or lingering within one to delve into its deepest recesses. Most strikingly conveyed are the wonders, terrors, mysteries and curiosities of youth, the overpowering initiations of body and mind that shatter the realm of childhood. White invents a vocabulary for the inarticulate that is all the more powerful for its metaphorical exactness.

Unlike White's other novels, Caracole is not a first-person narrative. By using the omniscient third person, White is able to probe deeper into the interiors of his characters. This device also allows him more scope for apt epigrammatic observations, particularly about youth, middle age and the relations across that divide.

Those who appreciate the power of the word should experience Caracole and indeed all of White's novels.

LOSS WITHIN LOSS is a major collection of biographical short stories: tributes to friends, lovers and colleagues who have died from AIDS.

Several of the contributing writers are quite famous: the lecturer/poet/teacher Maya Angelou, the playwright/screenwriter Craig Lucas ("Prelude To A Kiss," "Longtime Companion"), the novelist Allan Gurganus ("Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All"), the writer Andrew Solomon ("The Noonday Demon") et. al. Several of the dedicatees lived the lives of celebrities: the poet James Merrill, the film makers Derek Jarman and Howard Brookner, the writer Paul Monette. But it is not their fame which is celebrated in this book: it is their love and friendship and, most importantly, their art which is now lost to the world forever because of a disease, the deadly power of which, was and still is, underestimated. The styles of the stories are as diverse as the styles of the individual writers: some read like the poetry they are; some like straight-forward fiction and some like excruciatingly honest, almost farcical diary entries.

These are not simply sad stories; they are beautifully written, funny, charming, intelligent, very candid rememberances of lives past passed. Besides the stories, there are some photographs of the artists and their works, biographies of the writers and their subjects, a wonderful photograph by John Dugdale on the cover and an introduction by Edmund White
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

LOSS WITHIN LOSS is a most appropriately titled reminiscence of the black hole AIDS blasted in our art community. Edmund White, always the sensitive observor and writer of tender memoirs, takes on the role of Editor here and has selected some very fine writers to personalize the contributions and deaths of their friends. He has also written minibiobraphies of not only the artists who have been lost but also of each of the biographers. Selecting artist/bigraphers to highlight in a review of a book of this total force seems almost incongruous, yet Chris DeBlasio is so beautifully defined by William Berger, and the polarities of the lives and deaths of Paul Monette and James Merrill who died within four days of each other are so adroitly observed by their mutual firend J.D. McClatchy, and Felice Picano's warm eulogy for Robert Ferro and all that surrounded the Violet Quill Club are all so fine that they shine especialy brightly.

The unexpected joyful aspect of spending time with this extraordinary book is discovering how much we didn't know about so many artists in every field - from poetry, to novels, to puppets, to architecture, to dance. Yes, the names ring distant bells, but when the artists are put into context with the time in which they were creating AND that they were creating knowing that their corporal time was limited, the effect is staggering. I do not find this book at all morose; if anything it is celebratory. And the method of presentation and quality of writing leaves the reader with one primary question: What if AIDS hadn't destroyed so many brilliant minds, so many unborn ideas? As a document on the effect of a devastating disease on the arts and as a resource book of what was happening in the forefront of culture in the 1980s and 1990s, this book will be the gold standard. Highly recommended reading - on so many levels.

This powerful, superb book is peopled with a sampling of the great and graceful artists who have been swept into eternity by AIDS. All of the essays are moving. Especially touching is the memoir which gathers together the angelic Paul Monette and the ferocious James Merrill. Brad Gooch contributes his best writing to date in his touching remembrances of his lovely partner Howard.

This book will break your heart and make you smile at the same time. It's truly a work of art.

Genet allows you to feel the immediacy of the Palestinian situation with particles from lives,from ill-defined fragments of lives disrupted with no future,he stayed with a family in 1980 a half-day and a whole night where the young son,Hamza a fedayee went off at night to fight. Genet hearing gun fire in the distance inhabited his bed and was brought Turkish coffee and water in the night as a replacement for the young man,by his mother. Genet is a writer/poet,a political thinker,but never a man of politics, a deeply sensitive man,a virtuoso of the sensual image, as the starry-night reflected against the curtain in his room with the small blue table. "Of course it's understood that the words,nights,forests,septet,jubilation desertion and despair are the same words that I have to use to describe the goings on at dawn in the Bois de Boulogne in Paris when the drag queens depart after celebrating their mystery,doing their accounts and smoothing banknotes out of the dew."

Genet was allowed with special permission to visit the massacre site at the camps at Sabra and Chantila,smelling the rotting flesh, "They happened I was affected by them. I talked about them. But while the act of writing came later, after a period of incubation,nevertheless in a moment like that or those when a single cell departs from its usual metabolism and the original link is created of a future,unsuspected cancer,or a piece of lace, so I decided to write this book."

Genet has an intense need for passion of any dimension,scouring the vigours of whatever parts of fragments of the lifeworld's complexity presents itself to him. I once thought of this book as a romantic means of portrayel a betrayel of a political situation,one, the only one that excited Genet.It means something that only encounterings lives in struggle,bent into a repressive state that Genet finds the only life worth encountering,sensing and feeling about. This book was completed in 1986 after suffering from throat cancer, he died on the night of 14-15th of April,1986,while correcting proofs.

This book is absolutely essential to any understanding of the Palestinian situation. It is also the mostimportant work of Genet's entire career.

If the reader is looking for easy explanations to the Palestinian refugees' war with the nation of Israel, Jean Genet's book is not the place to seek them. And I don't advise readers to pick through the text looking for the succinct sentences in which Genet clearly states why he's on the side of the Palestinians, or if he's anti-Israel, or anti-American. There is no proof of reviewer Tim Keane's conclusion that Genet "seethes with hatred of Israel"; there are no such violent emotions in Prisoner of Love. At 430 pages, be prepared to find subtleties of experience shaded by conflicting responses--nuances completely unavailable via print journalism or network news, CNN, or Al Jazeera. But the very fact that Genet wanted to observe life in the refugee camps shows that he had to make a choice. Nearly all the protagonists of his memoir, this textual "souvenirs," are Palestinians and generally Muslim. Indeed, the compelling force which drives the relatively plotless Prisoner of Love are the individuals to whom Jean attachments himself: the dynamic Lieutenant Mubarak, Dr. Mahjoub and the charismatic female doctor, Dr. Nabila, Khaled Abu Khaled and Abu Omar, and an accomplished woman friend, a blond Lebanese guide and translator, Nidal, and dozens of other people. Genet was particularly attached to Hamza and his mother, who he attempts to find again after his absence from Palestine for nearly 14 years. We cannot forget the common fedayee rebel, the fedayeen as a whole who fought to make the Palestinian plight known.

When evaluating Prisoner of Love, it's important to remember that Genet is a writer. Throughout his work, Genet tells us how difficult it is to recount his experiences since he's not sure at times what he's seeing, and he must make his writing conform to the necessities of craft. And whatever writing craft decisions Jean made it is clear that the Palestinians "wrote" him as well; Jean was seldom in control of his experience. As I read, I realized that Genet is the ultimate refugee; he seeks to be with people who are like him. My conclusion is this: Palestine chose him.

Only Genet could have written this book. He is a bruised romantic searching for a resting place that will caress both his homeless intellect and his orphaned body: "A little while ago I wrote that though I shall die, nothing else will. And I must make my meaning clear. Wonder at the sight of a corn-flower, at a rock, at the touch of a rough hand--all the millions of emotions of which I'm made--they won't disappear even though I shall. Other men will experience them, and they'll still be there because of them. More and more I believe I exist in order to be the terrain and proof which show other men that life consists in the uninterrupted emotions flowing through all creation" (361). As an orphan with prison experience, and disaffected from France, Genet was willing to try on other peoples' lives; I suspect that without the structure dictated by the craft of writing, and his talent coming to the attention of well-known writers, Genet would have disappeared into the French prison system.

Another conclusion I came to: Genet shows us the difference between terrorism and Arab nationalism. Is there any hope that the U.S., of which I am a native-born citizen, will ever figure out this difference?

Overwhelmingly, the single image I have of Prisoner of Love is that to read it is to travel the land that dwelled *in* Jean Genet, this traveler who was intelligent enough to let his emotions guide him. And only by reading can I share in living a life which speaks so eloquently of rebellion and blood, of life and death.

I was in college when I first met Denver Butson (crazy man, Italy semester again- but maybe this time with hot water?). Great person, master poet, entertaining teacher -managed the Pisan Cantos steps from an Italian princess and literary heir.
Tryptich is self help for everyone who finds themselves burning.

Denver's mastery of exact word useage portrays volumes of meaning. Tiny rays of light in his darker works flirt with the reader. His good news? There is always hope!

Do you know what a "textual marriage" is? Are you familiar with the poetic form "ghazel"? Have you mused recently over crows? Have you considered the difference between drowning and dancing? With this first collection of poetry from Denver Butson, a challenging and forceful new voice has emerged in American poetry. A textual marriage is a poetic form Butson invented that alternates successive lines from two different texts--in one case, a sensational NEW YORK POST article and a poem by Kenneth Patchen--to create a startlingly orginal poem. A ghazel is a Persian poetic form as intricate as a sestina. "No one waves to the blackest birds." Crows. This image resonates throughout the collection: black wings, the darkness, the common-ness of the common crow (first introduced in association with a brother who did or did not commit suicide). And, curiously, in one poem it is the absence of the word "crow" that sustains the poem. And is it possible to read the verb "waves" as the noun to introduce another central image? That of drowning? Briefly, this collection teases and stimulates and excites the reader's mind. As Butson notes, "These broken syllables / we try to re-form." Language, imagination, image, meaning. Denver Butson is a poet of depth, complexity, and strangeness who has a brilliant career before him.

In Arts and Letters veteran novelist Edmund White shows again why he is one of the most inventive English language writers. It's a salmagundi of commissioned pieces and articles that originally appeared in a variety of slick and gay magazines. Taken them all together, and you get a lot of insight into White's own irresistible personality, even more so than in some of his celebrated autobiographical novels and memoirs. Plus, it's like being at the same party with some of the most intriguing personalities in the world today, as well as some dead immortals. White's style when he profiles these luminaries is never fawning--well maybe once or twice, but he does it so well you forgive him anything. He's fearless, and asks the people in question exactly the kind of questions you think you'd ask yourself, if you were there on the scene and you had balls of brass. Cleis Press is to be commended for bringing out this jumbo volume. I only wish there were more.

There's just enough of a selection of White's writing about art to make you wish he'd jump in and write a whole book about the art and artists he admires. It's hard to find anything new to say about (for example) Jasper Johns or Robert Mapplethorpe, but after reading White's articles on both you will be viewing their work with new eyes. And he provides wonderful introductions to artists whose profiles may not be quite as high as these guys--Rebecca Horn, perhaps, or Steve Wolfe.

One after another of these articles are stunners--there's a fine piece on the half-forgotten French New Novelist Alain Robbe-Grillet, which takes you back to the day in which he was regarded as a wunderkind of depthless talent, and then shows today why he is still a writer worth studying.

White is not always Mr. Goody Two Shoes either. In one case, the Ned Rorem profile, you watch in helpless delight as Rorem gets skewered on the high kebab spears of White's erudition and wit. I also thought that printing a brief review of James Baldwin's "Just Above My Head" and labeling it "James Baldwin" leads the reader to think JB will be getting the full-blown profile treatment and instead it rebounds and just akes the review seem skimpy. And in some cases the reader will disagree, perhaps violently, with White's assessment of this or that subject, and you will still feel he has won the right to deliver it. I don't believe for an instant that James Merrill is the equivalent of Cavalcanti crossed with Noel Coward, but it's amusing to hear someone say so.

By and large these essays are compelling, entertaining, and wise. It's a book that deserves all the praise it will doubtless receive.

Who would have thought in the 1980s that the author of "States of Desire" would become this eminent man of letters? In this book, Edmund White shows us that he is not only a masterful writer, but also can exhibit great empathy for the subjects of his writing. I admit that I envy his polymath's command of every topic (and his ability to use words like "polymath" so casually). Perfect book if you're looking for a thoughtful, reflective read.