Dancing Bare is an amusing and unconventional autobiography. Rigby, an impossibly innocent young man, swaps the suffocating confines of middle class New Zealand for love and liberation in nineteen-sixties London and Europe. Revelling in the freedom conferred by anonymity, he becomes an actor, stripper, rent boy, lover, teacher and dedicated traveller through Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, where travellers were uncommon and countries still retained many of the differences that made travelling so interesting. Rigby meets with a wide variety of people, life styles and customs, eventually settling in Paris where the state did not consider his sexuality to be a criminal offence. A moving and amusing story of hope and love, sex and sexuality, theatrical showmanship and artless innocence, laced with a little philosophical speculation as he wanders the world in pursuit of true love.
I live on several acres of rainforest in sub-tropical Queensland, Australia with my partner. I've published five novels:- 'NumbaCruncha' 'Sebastian', 'Jarek', 'Dome of Death', & 'The Price of Freedom'; a biography - 'Dancing Bare' , and a volume of short stories:- 'Time to Think'. I write the sort of fiction I like to read - fast paced with some danger and heroes who are decent, honest, reliable and unafraid to make decisions, and who reckon that more than enough is too much. I have always enjoyed the symbolism of Renaissance Art in which, among other things, purity, honesty and truthfulness is depicted by nudity. Titian’s “Sacred and Profane Love” and Michelangelo’s "Sistine Ceiling" and “Doni Tondo” are obvious examples. It is in that sense that I use nudity in my novels. Only the good guys run around naked. Nude is not rude! Actions can be evil or good; bodies are merely natural vessels and, if well maintained, are admirable. My characters live in the real world, not in a ghetto. They just happen to be gay and any sex is part of the story, not gratuitous or explicit. All my novels are set in tropical Australia.
This was a delightful surprise. A coming of age / coming out story of an adventurous young man traveling through Europe, Africa and the Middle East in the early 1960s. His tale of innocence and debauchery is light, whimsical a modern day Candide. I found it not only entertaining but thoughtful and would have liked to meet Rigby.
What a breath of fresh air. This is the first autobiography I've read by a relatively unknown person describing their take on the world without a filter or an agenda to make their views more palatable for all readers.
Here is Rigby Taylor, warts and all, his adventures as a young gay New Zealander, getting by in 1960s Europe and north Africa as a traveling hitchhiker, a second language teacher, an assistant theatre manager, dancing bare and sometimes offering more. The adventures are somewhat picaresque, Rigby seems to fall into bizarre situations and company, but having shared a similar path a few years later, I can vouch for it all being believable.
Rigby describes himself as being physically fit but not particularly handsome, nevertheless people seem constantly drawn to him, perhaps because of his youth, but also due to his never-say-die attitude which guarantees that after every setback he dusts himself off and continues on his quest.
And what is his quest... well, of course, it is true love, and again our hero doesn't spare the details of every sordid misadventure he falls into along the way. The four stars and the reason to read this book are both because of the joy and youthful enthusiasm that comes through every page en route to his salvation.
Oh Rigby Taylor, I have no idea whether to laugh, cry, scream in frustration, be jealous of the life you describe or be horrified.
I think I will do all of those things, by degrees, in the same way I did throughout your book.
An autobiography of someone not in the public eye is a risk until you realise that the thing about autobiographies is that the person is almost unimportant. What matters is the quality and flow of the writing and the choice of the elements to leave out.
This book chooses well. The pace is medium-fast, the chronology flows and the adventures, plausible, implausible and plain astounding, flow too.
This book is the story of an independent youth who leaves New Zealand in the nineteen-sixties to go to London, joins a small touring theatre company and embarks on adventurous trips around Britain, Europe, North Africa and the Near East. As the title “Dancing Bare” suggests, his performances are not limited to acting on stage. He enjoys being nude in front of audiences, is happy for them to take pleasure in seeing him naked, and to add to his earnings through “performing” for individuals he likes, mostly men.
Though he has many casual sexual encounters, the writing is not erotic or pornographic. There are no lingering lustful depictions of male anatomy, or thrust by thrust accounts of sexual activity. The hunger for sex and the need to assuage it help to drive the narrative forward, as are the observations about those he engages with, and his disappointments and successes in his acting, teaching, and performing nude.
The autobiography has much more to it than being an account of a libertine seeking pleasure through the swinging sixties and the self-indulgent seventies. As well as being an entertaining and engaging character, Rigby Taylor is very independent. He weighs up the world around him to develop his own outlook and philosophy. Whilst frequently enjoying company, he always remains something of an outsider. Certainly he is sexually liberal, but he does not take drugs or smoke, and rarely drinks alcohol. He takes some extraordinary risks, like crossing borders between hostile countries despite armed soldiers warnings.
The fast pace allows the book to cover many entertaining, amusing, and adventurous episodes, but such a wealth of experience inevitably comes at a cost. He reflects that: “I've always had to keep ‘closing doors’ because the present is as much as I can handle. Life is like hitch-hiking. You're on your own, not sure where you're going or if you'll get there. Everyone else seems to know who they are and where they’re headed as they zip past. Then you get a ride and you too are travelling with purpose, in company... until the car stops and you’re again out in the cold on the roadside, on your own...”
His determination to be true to himself and his own sense of right and wrong enliven his numerous and varied encounters, good and bad. In the final pages. before Rigby Taylor enters middle age, he has developed a desire for a “true friend”, someone with whom he could share common interests as well as a sexual relationship, someone for whom he would, perhaps, not simply be putting on a performance.
This is one of those difficult books to review. It was free, so it seems a bit churlish to give a bad review, but it does deserve an honest one.
The book was well-written. There's no denying that. It was also insightful in parts, as it recalls the life of a young performer accepting his sexuality and living a colourful life amongst dancers and actors of stage and screen. There is relatively little name-dropping, and in places it made entertaining reading. There is no doubt that his life has been tough at times, and respect to him for laying it all out there for other people to read.
But boy, oh boy, am I glad I've never had the dubious honour of having Mr. Taylor's gimlet gaze travelling over my less than perfect bod. For almost the entire book he could not help pointing out the physical and intellectual shortcomings of others, whilst preening and admiring himself in small thong underwear. If it was written ironically, it didn't work. He came across as an insufferable bore, surrounded by grotesques. If you weren't thin and beautiful, you were given the Rigby cold glare, and it made very uncomfortable reading. Almost everyone he came in contact with seemed to bear the weight of his contempt. In the end his narcissism and the ugly way he described other people became too much.
I'm glad he found love in the end. I really am. I'm hoping that as his beauty fades, he is not subject to the same excoriating judgement with which he seems to regard other people. In the meantime, a little humility is a great thing, and this book has none of it.