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The Senate Republicans — led by Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, he of the closed-mouth smile — could rid themselves of former President Donald J. Trump, at his second impeachment trial. They won’t do it. Photograph courtesy United States Senate.

The Republicans and fear itself

February 7, 2021

Seven years ago when the Greenleaf Book Group was preparing to publish my novel “Water Music,” about the personal relationships and professional rivalries of four gay athletes, one of their estimable editors sent me a question that I think about to this day.

One of the story arcs that is ultimately woven into the other three concerns an Iraqi boy, Alí Iskandar, who is taken under the wing of an American contractor during the height of the Iraq War with the promise of mentorship in the United States. Instead the contractor abuses him, enabled by the man’s family. My editor wanted to know why the boy doesn’t at this point run away, call the police, try to get back to his family. By way of answer I told him the story of one of my boss’ West Highland terriers, all rescues. This particular little fellow was kept in a cage all his life. Often in the office, he sits under her desk or, in moments of high energy, retreats to a corner. Once in a space it is hard to coax him out of it. He’s free and yet he’s still in the cage of his mind.

I often think about this when I think about the Republicans. Of all the many questions raised by the last four years, few are more confounding than these two: Why has former President Donald J. Trump attracted such a cult following and why do the Republicans stick with him?

Klete Keller and America's narcissistic identity

January 25, 2021

In 2004, the United States and Australia — then swimming’s two powerhouses — faced off at the Summer Olympics in Athens. Four years earlier in Sydney, the American men had lost to the Australian men on their home field in one of the sport’s marquee events, the 4-x-200-meter freestyle relay, a race that the Australians, anchored by the legendary Ian Thorpe, had dominated for seven years.

In Athens, where the American men’s basketball Dream Team played to stunning mediocrity, the message to Team USA’s male swimmers was clear — shut down the Aussies and take back pride of place. The relay team would be led by Michael Phelps — on his way to six gold medals but not yet the supernova Phelps of the Beijing Games four years later — and his friendly rival, Ryan Lochte, who has the second most Olympic swimming medals of any man but at that time was even less of a known quantity. They were joined by Peter Vanderkaay and, swimming the last leg against Thorpe, Klete Keller.

Sudden death on D.C.'s power courts

October 24, 2019

A president in thrall to a foreign power. A disenchanted first lady. A White House moving toward crisis.

No, not that White House. But sometimes life imitates art, as it does in Georgette Gouveia’s new psychological thriller, “Burying the Dead” (JMS Books, Oct. 30). It’s a high stakes game of love and death, set on the power courts of Washington, D.C. and other glittering world capitals, that represents a departure for Gouveia, whose previous novels were in the trending category of male/male romance.

Otto Warmbier and the limits of male power

June 21, 2017

Some years ago, I saw an exhibit at Mass MoCA in North Adams, Mass. in which a male artist included an image of the Y chromosome. It’s much smaller than the X chromosome. And it’s been shrinking.

I couldn’t help but think of this on the death of Otto Warmbier, the young American imprisoned and apparently tortured for allegedly taking a propaganda poster off the wall of a North Korean hotel. Returned to his homeland in a coma, he died six days later on June 19.

Lost, however, in the geopolitical story – the barbarism of North Korea, the failure of the Chinese to contain it and the challenge this poses for America – is both the larger and deeper cultural and psychological story. It is a narrative that says simply no one does stupid like a stupid man. ...

Vladdie and The Donald: A fine bromance

February 13, 2017

As a writer of homoerotic fiction, I consider myself a collector and connoisseur of male/male romances. I began with the ancient Greeks, who practically invented homoerotic relationships – all those youths beloved by Apollo, whose depiction reached an apotheosis in the paintings of neoclassical Paris (see Abigail Solomon-Godeau’s provocative book “Male Trouble”); and the relationships of Alexander the Great with his right-hand man, Hephaestion, and eunuch Bagoas, portrayed so movingly in Mary Renault’s “Fire From Heaven” and “The Persian Boy,” respectively.

Then there’s Marguerite Yourcenar’s “Memoirs of Hadrian,” a model for all aspiring historical fiction writers, which tells the story of the titular Greek-loving Roman emperor and his love for the tragic Greek youth Antinous.

Moving on to our own (mostly) gay-friendly, postfeminist time, there’s Gus Van Sant’s ingenious “My Own Private Idaho,” based on “Henry IV,” and Annie Proulx’s hauntingly spare novella “Brokeback Mountain,” made into an equally worthy film by Ang Lee. ...

The world turned upside down

November 9, 2016

For me personally, I can say with Frank Sinatra, “It was a very good year.” I got to travel a great deal and I got a contract for my second novel, “The Penalty for Holding,” about a gay, biracial quarterback’s search for identity in the NFL. An excerpt from the book will be published in the Westchester Review, and an essay I wrote on love, sex and gender in the work of Colombian artist Federico Uribe will be part of a new monograph on him. For all this, I’m truly grateful.

I begin with an attitude of gratitude in this the month of Thanksgiving, because in other ways I’ve been disenchanted and disheartened as many of those I have loved have faltered. ...

Cover me: Burkini fever

September 4, 2016

The first time I saw the burkini – the controversial swimwear worn primarily by Muslim women, whose ban on French beaches was recently overturned by a French court – I thought, if I wasn’t often so hot, and not in a good way, I would definitely wear one.

Indeed, when I first hit the beach in Bali – the Hindu island of Muslim Indonesia, where everyone lets it all hang out – I was dressed in a one-piece and a sarong, accessorized by a beach umbrella.

I cannot have the sun beating down on my head – I take my daily constitutional with an umbrella or parasol in the warm-weather months – and I don’t want my skin overexposed to Mr. Sun either.

I’m not alone. British chef Nigela Lawson sports a burkini at the beach to shield her fair skin, and the swimsuit has been championed by members of both sexes and several major religions, along with lifeguards in Australia, where it was designed by Lebanese-born Aheda Zanetti. ...