Foreign Affairs: Male Tales of Lust and Love – Daniel M. Jaffe (Rattling Good Yarns Press)

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Daniel M. Jaffe’s latest—a collection entitled Foreign Affairs: Male Tales of Lust & Love—might lead one to believe that he has written a collection entirely of erotica (especially with that provocative cover illustration!). And while I must disabuse you of that notion (yes, some of the stories are titillating, but most are not), I strongly urge you not to pass this collection by.

Jaffe has already written two novels (The Limits of Pleasure, Yeled Tov), a novel-in-stories (The Genealogy of Understanding), and a prior collection of short stories (Jewish Gentle and Other Stories of Gay-Jewish Living). His novels deal with the intersection of Gay and Jewish identities, and these themes reappear throughout his short stories. The dozen stories in his latest collection all feature a male protagonist, who is American, and they all occur abroad; those, however, are the only common traits shared by all twelve stories. Many of the protagonists are Gay, but a couple are not; some are Jewish, but again, not all are. All of them, regardless of their sexual orientation or ethnicity, are searching for something: usually it is to fulfill desire (illicit or not), but some seek knowledge, or to make peace with the past (in some cases entire centuries of the past), or even redemption (in one case, quite literally). The “Affairs” in the title is meant in all sense of the word.

I realize now that the above is not entirely true: all of the stories are filled with the colors, scents, and flavors of the places where they are set. In addition to each one serving up a sensual feast, these stories are filled with the intimate details of a traveler who has navigated these landmarks, viewed these artworks, and visited these neighborhoods. (Spoiler alert: in his Afterword, Jaffe recounts how each story was inspired by his travels to the places in question.) It sounds cliché, but reading these stories feels like being in Dublin, Mexico City, Seville, Munich; and I suspect that many quarantine-weary readers will enjoy the escape.

Always before, when I review a collection or anthology, I end up focusing on a couple of stories that either stood out, for whatever reason, or appealed to me personally (usually because of some fantastical element). After reading this collection, I have to confess that I enjoyed reading all of the stories herein, even the ones that were horror (“In the Colony,” “The Return,” “Walpurgisnacht”) or lacked a fantastical element (“Innocence Abroad,” “The Trickster,” “El Bochorno”). Whatever your pleasure—be it erotic delight, absurdist humor, a bit of otherworldly magic, or simply the vicarious thrill of the armchair traveler—I can guarantee that you will find something to enjoy in this travelogue; like as not, several somethings.

Reviewed by Keith John Glaeske

The Man from Milwaukee – Rick R. Reed (NineStar Press)

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Rick Reed always looks in directions others don’t, finding inspiration and possibilities in territory untraveled by other writers. In this case, he twists a sort-of romance around a Jeffrey Dahmer obsession and comes up with a short, sharp, shock of a thriller that you can probably finish in an evening if you don’t stop to snack too much.

Emory Hughes is under a lot of stress. He’s the sole support of his sick mother and his uncaring sister, and the pressure is starting to show. Sensing a kindred spirit, he becomes fascinated with the Dahmer case and even ends up corresponding with the killer. Those letters are the highlight of his day, but he also finds some relief in a new relationship with Tyler Kay. When his mother dies, his sister leaves and so does Tyler. All Emory has left is Dahmer and the letters. Or does he?

No matter what genre he’s writing in, Reed never fails to entertain. Here, he builds up a nice sense of dread with the requisite shocks here and there to keep you interested. Emory is proper creepy, especially when his mother dies and he undergoes his transformation from undisciplined slob to a lean, mean, wannabe killing machine. Tyler is also an interesting character, all the more so because he sees Emory’s fascination with Dahmer, yet he continues to stay in contact with him. Emory’s sister also shines as a supporting character, making a solid transition from uncaring to life-saving.

There is, however, one plot point not fully resolved. I can’t be too detailed as it’s a spoiler, and it certainly doesn’t damage a finely told tale all that much, but the omission of its resolution did leave me wondering when all was said and done. I don’t know if it was left open for a possible sequel or if Reed’s editor was just asleep at the switch, but as I said, it doesn’t harm the narrative. Kudos to the art department as well for coming up with a nicely evocative cover.

So, Rick R. Reed’s latest, The Man from Milwaukee, is a fast-paced thriller from a sure hand at his craft. It’s a nice change of pace from the horrors of the daily headlines.

JW

© 2020 Jerry L. Wheeler

Never Turn Your Back on the Tide – Kergan Edwards-Stout (Circumspect Press)

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The subtitle of this book is Or, How I Married a Lying, Psychopathic Wannabe-Murderer and Kinda Lived to Tell. Heady stuff, that. On the other hand, how many of you out there have glimpsed some psychopathology up close and personal. Raise your hands. See?  It sort of goes with the queer territory, or at least it used to. I haven’t been a gayling for a number of years, but I can’t imagine things have gotten substantially different. It’s the commonalities that matter, however, and Kergan Edwards-Stout covers those bases with wit, intelligence, and just a little bit of sarcasm.

Edwards-Stout calls this a fictional memoir, which is to say that the facts are pretty much there, but he relates them as he remembers them. I get it, and it’s a fair distinction for those who need that. I just want a good story, which he more than delivers. The facts are less important than his veracity, and I believe him. Besides, principals who feel wronged can always write their own books.

Still, a whole life can be daunting. To combat that, Edwards-Stout has wisely opted to present his in smallish convo-over-coffee-sized bits that go down remarkably well and can be either savored slowly or gobbled. He hits the usual biographical points of interest–parents and their peccadilloes, childhood trauma, firsts, and lasts, but he also recounts his forays onto the stage and movie set. His amateur acting experiences are by turns sad and hilarious, but always entertaining.

Of course, a major part of the book is the relationship that inspired the title, some details of which remind me of the protagonist, Gabe, in Edwards-Stout’s 2012 book, Songs for the New Depression. Those scars run deep, and it’s no surprise that a presence so perversasive shows up elsewhere. But he never lets that relationship run away with the book, keeping it far more in balance narratively than I’m sure it was when he was living it. It could be tedious, but Edwards-Stout has a keen sense of when to let it go and move on to something else.

Never Turn Your Back on the Tide is an enjoyable portrait of a life still in flux, well-written and thoughtfully presented–a book for those of you who married the psychopath as well as those who didn’t.

JW

© 2020 Jerry L. Wheeler