ALL WE HAVE IS NOW

Texas thugs murder a gay man’s lover: a tepid, soap-operatic tale

Second-novelist Taylor (The Innocent, not reviewed) comes up with little in style, character, or subject to refresh what have become Gay Lit 101 tropes and types. After the death of his lover to AIDS, narrator Ian McBride withdraws into his work as an actor for the Capitol Rep in Washington. But, launching into a production of The Tempest, the older McBride is drawn against his will to Jimmy Davidson, a lithe, impetuous younger actor playing Ariel. On opening night, amid its “atmosphere of hushed expectation,” McBride capitulates to Davidson, and a rhapsodic affair ensues—“as time rushed past.” Then, just before rehearsing a production of Long Day’s Journey into Night, Davidson goes home to Kimberly, Texas, where two homophobic men beat him to death. McBride flies to Kimberly, where everybody drops their g’s in ing, which soon becomes an annoyin’ way of creatin’ Texas talk, though meanwhile Jimmy’s grandmother, Livie, befriends McBride. In a predictable scene, she reveals to him that she, too, once defied the conventions of her time and place by having an affair with a black caretaker. McBride, Livie, and Davidson’s family gather for the trial of Carey Plummer (the culprit in the fatal beating who hasn’t yet confessed). Courtroom proceedings recall the Matthew Shephard case: Plummer claims that Jimmy Davidson’s smile was a sexual come-on, while the defense attorney argues that Plummer’s rage stemmed not so much from homophobia as from anger pent up since childhood over other family issues. The prosecution’s case nevertheless sails on, with scant suspense, and the jury finds Plummer guilty of murder in the first degree. Visiting him in jail, McBride hears him confess that he secretly wishes a man like McBride loved him.

Been out of the closet, read that.