Books like The Motion Of Light In Water — picked by fans

A thinly fictionalized account of a young male prostitute based on the life of the writer. This was written years before Stonewall, yet presents an unflinching portrayal of the range of male sexual desire that would be cutting edge even today. No excuse is given for sexual activity that most would see as peculiar because the author makes clear that, in his estimation, none is required. He never says as much, but it can be inferred from every line on every page.

I especially love how he can describe men who are utterly insensitive and emotionally shut down, and what you take away from it is how sensitive and emotionally boiling they are.

I became obsessed with the writing in this book when it was first published in 1991, and I was far from the only one. News of his death, one year after the publication of this book, triggered a spontaneous march of angry mourners through his NYC neighborhood.

He wrote with the urgency of an artist running out of time. David captured the anger of the first generation of gay men to confront AIDS like no one else. Other writers expressed the grief, the despair, and the moral dilemmas. David had fire breathing out of his pen. I am proud to have one of my favorite of his paintings on the cover of my new book.

If you are picking up on the fact that I am pretty much over the 2-just-married-white-guys-in-a-convertible gay love story, you will not be surprised that I loved this book. The true story of a 17-year-old Irish kid working at a brothel in Victorian London.

An underworld of teenage prostitutes is vividly portrayed: runaways, post office boys, shoeblacks, newspaper sellers, grooms, servants, and most of all, telegraph boys. As the star witness in the trial that was THE sexual scandal of Victorian London, Jack defiantly testified against a wealthy gay British man, at least in part out of his sympathy for the cause of his Irish homeland. Jack goes on to die penniless at age 46 of tuberculosis. Take that!

I love this book because it is a nearly unbelievable tale of human resilience and a timely reminder that not so long ago, queers had bigger problems than micro-aggressions and pronouns. Jim Foshee had the gay life you don’t want. By age fourteen, he had been abused by his mother, his step-father, a reform school, a mental hospital, police, older kids at a juvenile jail, and a judge.

The only love he had received was from a drag queen who had taken him off the street and her partner, and for this, they were tried and nearly imprisoned. Jim was then sentenced to five years in a Texas prison, where the abuse reached an entirely new level. Incredibly, he managed to put together a stable life, co-found Denver’s first LGBT community center, and spend his later years researching gay history. 

“I saw a little boy on the street today, and he cried so eloquently that I will never forget him.” Maeve Brennan wrote for the New Yorker’s Talk of the Town section as ‘The Long-Winded Lady’ from 1954 to 1968. She roamed the city’s streets, bars, and restaurants, eyes wide open, weaving stories of vivid emotional detail from the most seemingly mundane moments. None of these are too long – in the waiting room concentration can be fleeting – but each sketch engages. Her story of the crying boy ends this way: “He might have been the last bird in the world, except that if he had been the last bird there would have been no one to hear him.”

This book is written by the late, great Maya Angelou and it is a must-read. As an African American woman the wisdom passed on by our matriarchs is not only needed but essential. Letter to My Daughter, is just that, a letter to me. It encompasses the wisdom of a well-lived life and a strong desire to pay it forward. This is not just a book it is a teaching tool that will leave its reader with a sense of grounding that only a long afternoon conversation with a wise elder can. Grab a glass of sweet tea and glean. 

Thirty-five years after this book was published, I still smile thinking of it and the first time I read it in 1991.

It was/is a laugh-out-loud farce and was an inspiration to me to read gay and straight comic characters written so effortlessly.

Every so often, I check to see if Joe Keenan has another novel in the works, as he has written only three. I’ll be the first in line to buy a copy. 

This book taught me that there are always sources for determined historians to find on any topic. Like most good stories about subcultures, It reveals the influence of the marginalized on the mainstream, even when it’s been hidden from history.

Chauncey explodes the false perception that gay men before the 1960s did not share a common culture but were closeted and isolated from each other. I love his humanizing use of unpublished personal sources like diaries. He also reveals how the pathologizing of homosexuality by medical professionals accidentally supported the creation of vibrant gay communities.

Rarely have I learned so much from such an engaging book. This is my favorite history book of all time.

I’ve lived in New York City all of my life. I sang doo-wop in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village when I was a teenager, and then folk rock with my group, The New Outlook.

If ever there was a time-travel ticket to a past and a place that I knew so well I could still see the sun glinting through the tree leaves, hear the din of the eateries as I walked by, and, most important, still hear the music by people vastly more famous than me, music that actually defied any given time or place, it would be David Browne's book, Talkin' Greenwich Village.  

This is post-modern crime fiction thematically linked and all with increasingly unreliable characters—because they’re each going insane.

In City of Glass private investigator, Daniel Quinn, goes mad sinking deeper into an investigation about identity. Who is telling his story and can they be relied on? Is it any of these characters who appear: ‘the author,’ ‘Paul Auster the writer,’ ‘Paul Auster the detective’?  Whoosh.

I love this stuff but understand it’s an acquired taste!