Loving Mountains, Loving Men: Memoirs of a Gay Appalachian

by Jeff Mann

Loving Mountains, Loving Men is the first book-length treatment of a topic rarely discussed or examined before: gay life in Appalachia. Appalachians are known for their love of place, yet many gays and lesbians from the mountains flee to urban areas. Jeff Mann tells the story of one who left and then returned, who insists on claiming and celebrating both regional and erotic identities.

In memoir and poetry, Mann describes his life as an openly gay man who has remained true to his mountain roots. Mann first describes his upbringing in Hinton, a small town in southern West Virginia, as well as his realization of his homosexuality, his early experiences of homophobia, his coterie of supportive lesbian friends, and his initial attempts to escape his native region in hopes of finding a freer life in urban gay communities. Mann depicts his difficult search for a romantic relationship, the family members who have given him the strength to defy convention, his anger against religious intolerance and the violence of homophobia, and his love for the rich folk culture of the Highland South.

His character and values shaped by the mountains, Mann has reconciled his homosexuality with both traditional definitions of Appalachian manhood and his own attachment to home and kin. Loving Mountains, Loving Men is the compelling, universal story of making peace with oneself and the wider world.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Gender and Sexuality, Poetry, LGBT, Gay

237 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2005

About the author

Jeff Mann’s poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in many publications, including Prairie Schooner, Shenandoah, Laurel Review and The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide. He has published three award-winning poetry chapbooks, Bliss, Mountain Fireflies, and Flint Shards from Sussex; two full-length books of poetry, Bones Washed with Wine and On the Tongue; a collection of personal essays, Edge: Travels of an Appalachian Leather Bear; a book of poetry and memoir, Loving Mountains, Loving Men; and a short fiction volume, A History of Barbed Wire, which won a Lambda Literary Award. He teaches creative writing at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia.

Reviews

[Ethan Skuches · Rating 2 out of 5]

Here’s the deal. The book was fantastic. The writing was superb and brutally honest throughout, for better or for worse.

Things I didn’t like:

- the afterword. Really grinds my gear to write an afterword for a notably queer book and spend a good portion of it bashing on young queer people and the progressive thoughts being put forth now. Specifically around gender. Exemplified a lot of the reasons for a disconnect between younger and older queer people. (Who the fuck actually says alphabet soup you weirdo)

- kinda connected to the earlier point, have a wandering eye whatever, but I do feel at points Mann embodies many queer stereotypes that young gay men have to deal with with being accused of being perverse or constantly sexualizing people, and he does it all the time in this book! To the point where it nearly made me uncomfortable.

I’m giving the book 4/5 stars, but if I had to factor in my opinions on the author I would say 2-3/5. I have since factored in my opinions on the author, because at the end of the day it is a memoir.

[TA Inskeep · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good-to-occasionally great essays along with good, sometimes great poetry about the synthesis of his Appalachian and gay identities, originally published 20 years ago. What a shame that any good feelings I had about the book were washed away by a bitter-tasting 2023 postscript in which Mann takes clear issue with gender nonconforming folx and the additional letters added to acronyms for the queer community. Mann’s a very good writer and great editor, but he can fuck right off with that noise.

[Zuska · Rating 5 out of 5]

A blurb on the back of this reprinted edition (from Ann Pancake) states "Jeff Mann is the godfather of queer Appalachian literature, and [this book] is an ur text." This is absolutely true, and it is wonderful that LMLM has been so beautifully reprinted, with a new Afterword by the author. One does not need, however, to be either gay or Appalachian to appreciate the moving prose and exquisite poems gathered here.

Early in the text Mann notes "I do not want to relive history, but I cling to its debris with a stubborn grip." Later on, he observes "Art is a form of preservative...In poetry, I try to preserve what I am able of loveliness and longing. I try to honor those who have cared for me. I try to commemorate home. My passion for men, my loyalty to family, my attachment to landscape: these themes are inescapable." How lucky for us that it is so, and that from the debris in his grip Mann fashions his art.

If the book contained only the poems collected in section six at the end, it would be well worth the price. These are meditations on landscape, food, family, lust and love of men, leaving and homecoming, belonging and not belonging that tell a connected story. The preceding sections of essays are each fronted with their own poem and interspersed with photos of Mann, his family members, and the landscape. These essays and photos flesh out the story of the section six poems. Or is it the other way around? Arriving at the poems after the essays, the reader experiences them as both distillation and expansion of everything that came before.

Mann notes in the preface that some might prefer to segregate the poems - "to tug out the references to mustaches and chest hair and stick to cornfields, ramps, and tomato stakes." He insists in the preface upon his right to both mountain and queer heritage, even as he acknowledges his past inclination towards such segregation. Similarly, mixing poetry and memoir is something he has not done before this book, nor do most agents and publishers know what to do with mixed-genre books. "Like gay Appalachians, such books resist simple labeling, simple pigeonholing." But the result of the mixing here is as beautiful and wondrous as it is in life. We get the experience of parsing through the debris with Mann, AND the experience of the resultant art.

Mann writes with honesty and passion about his life and his loves - landscape, men, family, food. We move with him through the pages from his shy and painful adolescence to young adulthood to the fullness of middle age. He has the ability to make the reader's mouth water, whether for a fried apple pie and some brown beans:

"an elderly woman's soaking a pot
of pinto beans, or cooking half-runners
with the fatback all afternoon, rolling out
short crust for friend apple pies,
kneading smooth a batch of biscuit dough,
just as my grandmother did for seventy years."

or landscape:

"...the hilltop where
I will cease the heart-long and hunger,
the rush and cling and spin.

All about me, mountains and pastures
my ancestors worked, distant tree frogs
chirping, darker peaks of barn against
meadowed sky. And fireflies everywhere,

constellations to match the sparks
above, as if I strode the Milky Way..."

or men:

"...He falls
in love only with all he knows

is leaving soon. The odd thatch
of black hair on the outer flank

of the hand, the small smooth spot on
a chest otherwise pelted: details only

the reverent retain..."

There is so much depth to this book. Explorations of father-son relationship; meditations on loss and mortality; paeans to important women in Mann's life, including great-aunts, grandmother, mother, sister, and friends are all intertwined with the main themes of loving mountains, loving men. And the food. Oh the food! I'm definitely hungry now!

[Jared Bogolea · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’d honesty give this book a 4.5, but for this sake I bumped it down to a 4.

From the moment I started the epilogue, I already felt incredibly seen by this book. The book’s constant contrast of being in love with men, while honoring the love of where you come from is something I have long been trying to reconcile within myself. It’s probably been less than a year of me really grappling with the fact that I do actually like where I’ve grown up and where I come from.

The constant juxtaposition of feeling both inside and outside throughout this book was gorgeous. From feeling both in and out of the queer community, from feeling both in and out of Appalachian roots. I resonated. I lived in New York City for a short time, it wasn’t for me. I moved back home, and I don’t regret it. I like where I’m from. I like my roots, and straying far away — as glamorous as it is in my daydreams, isn’t practical nor what I truly want.

The way each chapter flowed to the next was beautiful. From the early childhood quirks and early signs of queerness, to the heartbreaks of relationships, to familial bonds of cooking and eventual trauma, to loving mountains and loving men, to the beautiful poetry. It was all so lovely to read.

Much of his family felt familiar to me, as they reminded me of my own family — with the traditions, quirks, judgments, and eventual acceptance. It was all so intensely queer, and intensely Appalachian. Two things that I know well, and have not yet married within myself.

My only critique, was that some of the material was slightly outdated, but even for being written in 2005.. I would say 95% of the material will stand the test of time. Some of the poems, I will admit, were not for me. But the ones of canning with his family, and feeling intense heartbreak, and eating home cooked food with your love, were warm and fuzzy and beautifully written. I hope to someday soon embrace the Appalachian side of me more, as I already have the queer side down.

The book is not currently being republished or reissued so I did find it quite hard to find, but if found — I would 100% recommend reading. It was a beautiful book.

[Julian]

I'm curious what it would be like to read this as a non-southerner (or as someone who wasn't around for the Bush years!) Another reviewer characterized these essays as good but occasionally great, which is true; the poetry is the star of this collection. Quality aside though it made me weep, so!

(I do wish I hadn't read the postscript of the new edition, which devolves into a diatribe about gender nonconformity and trans people that I found both offputting and frankly painful. In this particular moment do we really need to be taking potshots at other members of the community and their right to be here!)

[Laura]

Very informative read of the Appalachian culture learning to accept LGBT lives. Their stories of how one can cope here is incredible ! I would not read again but recommend it.

[A.B. Gayle · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading the rest of Jeff's memoirs, Edge and Binding the God, I thought there was nothing else to learn about the man and the writer, however this book filled in a couple of gaping holes in the jigsaw.

For starters we learn more about Jeff's relatives and his long term partner, John.

In his essay "How to Live with Peace" Jeff says

One of the great blessings of having a spouse is being able to lay down that terrible search for touch, for romantic and erotic connection, and concentrate on the rest of the world. The spiritual sense of things which in my bachelor days I sometimes achieved via those rare and rapturous moments with other men...

Yet at other times, Jeff notes that in some ways he misses the pain and intensity of failed relationships or unrequited lusts that inspired him to write poetry. Perhaps it has been replaced by his lust for food!

We had caught tantalising glimpses of John before. One memorable episode was Jeff's fortieth birthday which I had read about earlier. But I hadn't read how they had met, what had sparked this partnership. There are still a couple of pieces missing - Jeff doesn't disclose everything - but he gives enough to satisfy.

We also hear about the father who taught him so much, from the practical lessons on gardening to seeing romance in the tradition of Emerson and Thoreau. Yet, Jeff is also frank about the strained relationship between his parents. Acknowledging his mother's unhappiness, distanced from her husband and lonely (emotionally if not physically.) This affected him just as much. We also meet other people who have influenced his life. His (eccentric) aunts and grandmother.

Words capture people and places for posterity: Appalachian culture, the landscape, the characters, growing up gay in an age that didn't accept that, being a minority both because of his sexuality and his love for, and adherence to, his roots.

You can see that the latter are strong.

The mountains reflect the man. Not sleek and sophisticated like the gay men he can't identify with in big city bars. Jeff is a true bear. The wildness and roughness of where he comes from is beautifully reflected in the physical form he has developed with love and pride.

If you have read Jeff's other memoirs, track this down as well. Unfortunately it is only available in print form, but the upside is a collection of photos so you can put faces to names.

[Katie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I highly, highly recommend this book. Especially if you're one of my fellow WVU alums on my friends list... :)

[Abby N Lewis]

You can read my review for this lovely title through Chapter 16's website here: https://chapter16.org/maple-syrup-and...

[Think-On-It]

If you'd like to know what I thought of this book, please contact me directly and I'd be happy to discuss it with you.

All the best,

- TB