Prior to Melvin Dixon’s death from AIDS in 1992 when he was on the verge of breaking out as an acclaimed novelist, his talent was compared to that of Toni Morrison and James Baldwin. In Vanishing Rooms, the author amply demonstrates his literary promise with a compelling love story of interracial sex and urban violence set in Manhattan’s West Village in the 1970s.
This book opens with a hate crime, Metro who is the protagonist Jesse's lover is murdered and-we later find out-sexually assaulted by a group of homophobic boys. The aftermath of this hate crime is what constitutes the story and is narrated by three different characters: Jesse (Metro's boyfriend), Ruella (Jesse's friend and dance partner) and Lonny (one of the boys implicated in the assault but who doesn't directly participate in the murder).
While I absolutely loved the ability of the writer to capture certain aspects of life and familiar images with brilliant clarity, I found certain parts of the book to be quite unbelievable and unrealistic, the conversations between some of the characters especially didn't seem realistic at all. The writer grappling racism, homophobia and bigotry, the certain expectations of performing masculinity, interracial relationships and the dynamics involved, the prison system, self-loathing, etc was wonderful, integrating all this within the story itself wasn't as well-executed as I hoped it would be. I will admit that the Toni Morrison and James Baldwin comparisons from the book blurb raised my expectations for this book and perhaps had I read it without them, this would have been more enjoyable than it was for me. In the end it was one of those books I wish I liked more than I did.
It’s so much easier writing about dopey shit, honestly. Enough of these heartbreakers in a quick period will find you critically impotent, grasping for adequate straws to show that, yes, you too have been deeply affected by a work’s beauty. And you mean it; that’s the hardest part. Which is to say that I mean it, that I still feel some vague sense of the tragedy of Melvin Dixon’s too-early death. Guy had a way, and Vanishing Rooms is a sorely unappreciated spark of brilliance that was snuffed out by AIDS in that immediate window of the disease’s ascension to the throne of the 1980’s many Panics (be they Satanic, nuclear, epidemiological…) I dunno; maybe you had to be there to really connect the wider sociological phenomenon’s weaponizing of homosexuality—especially male—against the very population most in need of succor to feel how fucked it was. Or, reading this, knowing what elision was right around the bend for the author and having it trigger an authentic memorial synapse between all the outwardly disparate parts and players. To feel, not theoretically, the panging echo of having been taught to fear the mundanity of a goddamn toilet seat. So, what do I say elsewise to what I have already attempted and failed at up this point? I haven’t a clue. There’s only this surety: I was there, so was Melvin Dixon, and one of us hasn’t been anywhere at all in almost forty years. And that, folks, is a goddamn tragedy.
I kept this book on my shelf for years without touching it. I just concluded reading it and was surprised of its deep analysis of interracial Gay relationships with its keen observations and truth. I definitely recommend this book!
It's a shame that Melvin Dixon died so young and didn't have an opportunity to write more books. Vanishing Rooms was interesting in that it showed a slice of black American life that you don't see very often, that of an openly gay black man. Even though the story is taking place in the 1970s, many of the issues covered are still relevant today: gay bashing, racism, identity issues. While I appreciated Dixon's attempt to show the relationships between a gay black man and his white boyfriend and that same gay black man and a straight black woman, the writing often got to be too much for me. Too many lyrical expressions of dance and leaves falling just drove me crazy at times. Ruella (who must have the worse name ever of a woman in a novel) was in the unfortunate position of falling for a gay man. I didn't quite understand the need to include the POV of one of the gay-bashing thugs, but I guess Dixon wanted to show that even people who do evil things have feelings too.
Not entirely sure what to think of this. I liked how all three characters had such different voices, even though the dialect in the dialogue started to annoy me rather quickly. All people seemed to think and act on impulses I didn't understand though so it was hard to connect to them. I wasn't sucked into the story.
It was nice to get a glimpse of a life in a different day and place, in a different ethnic group, but I felt it was mostly written for people that knew what was going on, not to acquaint others with them.
Gay African American writer Melvin Dixon died a year after this novel was released. In 'Vanishing Rooms' he explored interracial gay relationships and gay-bashing incidents. He was compared to James Baldwin, Alice Walker and Toni Morrison.
I read this novel over a-quarter-century ago after reading an excerpt in anthology of gay writing and remembered it as one of those novels you never forget - I never did even after I forget the title and the author the novel - scenes from the novel - stayed with me, indeed haunted me - that is the best tribute I can pay to any novel. As I can't [roperly review the novel until I read it again I offer the words of some one else:
"...Vanishing Rooms is an intricate, passionate, hypnotic book that strips away the weight and facade of class, race, and self, leaving the characters’ essences exposed to such a degree of nakedness that I wanted to look away. Vanishing Rooms is not for the weak-hearted, the weak-minded, or any one who is unsure of their place in the world. Vanishing Rooms is a novel about emotional and spiritual movement and is more than a reflection of life; it is an examination of the soft, rumbling flow of life’s undercurrent...
"Vanishing Rooms is based on relationships. Jesse Durand, a black male dancer, is mourning the death of his white lover Metro. Jesse soon encounters Ruella McPhee, another dancer who falls in love with him. And there’s Lonny, a 15 year-old white boy who is a member of the gang that killed Metro. Jesse, Ruella and Lonny’s lives inadvertently become connected, making Vanishing Rooms is a tale of love, lust and movement.
"...In mourning his lover’s death, Jesse must confront the true nature of their relationship...Ruella (is) coming to terms with her past and Lonny’s dealing with the death of his father, and his own sexual confusion (all) are painful to witness...seeing sorrows and bruises that should only be viewed in the privacy of one’s own soul...I prefer novels that dig deeper than its characters’ most superficial layers. Author Melvin Dixon knew human nature and constructed his characters as human beings with issues. (And boy, do these characters have issues!) Unlike many other novels, by the conclusion of Vanishing Rooms, the characters still have issues ’ just not the same ones they started with.
Dixon combined his poet’s sensitivity and observation of the human spirit, with a master wordsmith’s agility...coupled with the unblinking, non-judgmental eye of a camera, and the hypnotic power of a fresh crime scene, Vanishing Rooms provokes instantly recognizable emotions from both its characters and readers. Vanishing Rooms is the rare novel that features 20-something characters that aren’t the stereotypical fare of popular AA fiction. Vanishing Rooms is the best kind of literature: intelligent, graceful, free of arrogance and pretense, rooted in reality and emotionally accessible."
There are too few novels with interracial gay couples as the subject matter... The ones that do exist tend to be tragic, such as this one. However, that does not mean this novel is not without its beauty. This book is desire, violence, sexuality, masculinity, blackness, whiteness, and the complicated dance all these things create when they interact and interrelate. I am so sad that Melvin Dixon was taken from us too soon. If he was still alive I think he'd be known today as one of the greatest novelists in the US. I'm going to be thinking about this book for a long time.
cw this book had some of the most upsetting and graphic homophobic violence i've ever read about. besides that (and because of it to some degree), i loved the way dixon wove themes of grief and belonging together. the three perspectives complemented each other well, and the characters felt human and fallible. the comparisons to morrison and baldwin on the back cover surprised me before i started the book and make sound sense to me now
I read this for college and I liked it a lot. Very challenging subject matter at times — the sexual violence in this was difficult to read, but still an important story to tell. The symbolism got a bit repetitive, but it’s complexity made for absorbing class discussions. More than anything, this book made me think. Its structure is unconventional but still engaging — all the POVs are distinct and well-written. You can see Dixon’s background in poetry shine through.
Its unbelievably tragic that Melvin Dixon died of AIDs soon after writing this. He offered an insightful look at the intersectionality of homosexuality and race. Although this book is rough around the edges, its themes are still important today.
One of the most beautifully written books I have ever read. Dixon's use of imagery and metaphor has the ability to tell a story full of ambiguities. The dynamics of race and sexuality defy compartmentalization, something I imagine Dixon aimed for in his writing.
"Women carry their wounds with less fear. We bear children. That's how we stay alive. But being alive hurts. And with that pain, you got to just keep on dancing, even if you dancing solo."