While in San Francisco last week on a search for collectible gay fiction I found this at Bolerium Books, the world's largest inventory of used gay books for sale. It looked like a quick read covering the male hustler scene in contemporary (1990s) New York. The first half of the book is exactly that, and it was so funny and bitchy and real and deeply-felt that I was actually laughing out loud. The rent boy Danny (or Mike, or Billy, or whatever) drifts through his self-realized meaningless life, offering hilarious observations about his tricks, the bar scene, NY living, and sex. The graphic passages on sex are some of the best I've read anywhere not because of their explicit eroticism---nicely done thank you very much---but in the way the author non-judgmentally presents sex as a healthy normal activity, in all its kinky forms. This is fresh, not often seen in serious gay literature, in contrast to pornography let's say.
Then at halfway through the book Danny hooks up with another hustler and is drawn into a criminal situation involving organ theft. This is quite an unexpected and unforeshadowed shift in direction. Unfortunately it doesn't really work re: plot development, but it does effectively provide an opportunity for Danny to change his life---if he wants to. I won't spoil the plot with further details. For a few pages (this is a short book after all) there is true suspense.
In the second half you will also find plenty of social and political commentary which, if you are a liberal anti-Republican, like me, will warm your heart. A shadowy former trick of Danny's also partially emerges as a recipient of his letters of which the book itself appears to be a compilation made sometime after...well, no plot spoilers here.
I look forward to reading two or three more of Gary Indiana's books; his style is a toned down Dennis Cooper and doesn't cause as much brain damage as Cooper does.