"What unites us, all of us, surely is brotherhood, a sense that our friendships are historic, designed to hold Stonewall together," muses on character in Ethan Mordden's Buddies. This need for friendship, for nonerotic affection, for buddies, shines forth as an American obsession from Moby-Dick through Of Mice and Men to The Sting. And American gay life has built upon and cherished these relationships, even as it has dared-perhaps its most startling iconoclasm-to break new ground by combining romance and friendship: one's lover is one's buddy.
This book is about those relationships-mostly gay but some straight and even a few between gays and straights. Here also are fathers and brothers and stories of men in their youth, when rivalry often develops more naturally than alliance. In Buddies Mordden continues to map the unstoried wilderness of gay life today.
My mother used to say, “Friends are friends, pals are pals and buddies sleep together.” As a child, I didn’t understand the meaning of that but as I matured I thought I did and as I read Mordden’s collection of stories, those words of wisdom were on repeat in my head. Buddies can be many things and hard to define. A buddy can be a father figure, a brother, a friend or frenemy. You can fall in and out of love with a buddy, you can lose and loathe a buddy and Buddies can be both understood and misunderstood. I learned a lot from this book but above all I learned that my mother may not have been right about buddies but she certainly wasn’t wrong, either.
I read this book years ago when I was just coming out - mostly to myself -as a gay man and I had forgotten just how much I enjoy Ethan Mordden. We are reading this for the book group I'm in and I'm looking forward to discussing it tonight with a group of other gay men my age. I remember reading this when I was trying to figure out "how to be" gay. :-) One of Mordden's characters has a line in this book where he says that we are born homosexual, but need to learn to be gay. I'm not into gay elitism here - gay is no better than straight - but it is a different way of being in the world. Most LGBT kids grow up in straight families and as part of a predominately straight culture so we "get" straight. Its the gay we need to work on which doesn't mean the sex part, for me at least. Hell, we are come pre-programmed by nature for that and everything we do is a variation on a theme. I learned to be gay from the other gay men (and fabulous lesbians) that I surrounded myself with. We learn from our buddies. :-) And of course the uber gay for me is the guy I wake up next too each morning. He tells me I've made a good start, but am still learning. :-)
In my opinion, this is the best of the five novels theater critic Ethan Mordden wrote as part of his "Buddies" cycle. Having introduced his characters in the first volume (I've a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore), "Bud" and his cycle of friends and their friends' lovers -- Big Steve, Dennis Savage, Carlo, Little Kiwi and others -- make merry and wax philosophical in post-Stonewall Manhattan, ca. 1980. "It was so quiet we could hear the appliances depreciating" is one of my favorite lines. I would recommend this book to anyone.
QUOTE that embodies the THEME of this book: "Sometimes [gay men] think they seek someone better than they are; sometimes I think no, they seek themselves. And sometimes the two searches are one. This is what makes our times interesting."
The second title in Ethan Mordden's "Buddies" series, and its namesake, is, though not quite as striking as its predecessor, still an intimate and unafraid engagement with end-of-century gay life and friendship.
In this collection of stories, Mordden again uses the stories and perspectives of his same cast of characters to talk about topics ranging from S&M culture to intergenerational conflicts. What is even more moving about the stories here, though, is the ways in which Mordden is unafraid to cast a spotlight on aspects of gay culture that everyone is aware of but few want to talk about because of cultural power dynamics, privileges, and the hope that it "won't happen to me." These topics - from the ways wealthy gays often exploit the needs to young, recently out and fresh to the city gays, to topics about the true challenge of feeling a sense of community even if you are gay - show the yin and yang of being gay.
The one downside to this collection that took away from its storytelling merit was in Mordden's attempt in the early chapters to rely on first-person introspective storytelling rather than the traditional disconnect from direct storytelling from his own narratorial perspective he usually uses. His direct attempts at autobiography are, admittedly, less compelling and harder to connect with emotionally than his stories of the friends and men in his life from their perspectives.
Nonetheless, another triumphant from Mordden and must read for all readers of gay lit.
I made slight corrections to this review in March 2024.
This is the second volume of Morrden's 'Buddies' cycle and, like the previous one, is a collection of pieces written between 1982 and 1986 (though the dates of the publication of most stories are not indicated and although the copyright page acknowledges that some changes have been made to some stories we do not know which ones) and not a novel which probably explains certain absurd statements in some stories such as how pre Stonewall there was nothing but 'Johns' and 'hustlers' while post Stonewall it was all 'gay' men going for each other, which if it was ever true clearly rapidly ceased to be the case as this collection (and future ones) are full of hustlers, both gay and gay-for-pay still alive and flourishing.
Although I enjoyed some of the stories a great deal, 'Kid Stuff' and 'Uptown Downtown' in particular, which is why I have given this volume three stars, there is a great deal I don't like and Mr. Mordden's arch narrative interventions are high on my list. Does any short story really need a subtitle such as this:
"A droll tale of sociosexual crossover, containing a treatise on sexuality thrown into the middle of the plot, for which the author makes no apology to readers"?
Mordden's bits of showing off, by throwing in, without explanation, Mapelson Cylinders (obscure early recordings made between 1900-1903 at NY's Metropolitan Opera) and June 16, 1904 (Bloomsday, from Joyce's Ulysses) just annoyed me even though it is easy for any reader to google them today, unlike his original readers.
But what annoys me most about this, and the first 'Buddies' collection 'I don't Think We are in Kansas Anymore', is the way Mordden pontificates on 'gay' life with reference exclusively to his own and presents this as the sine qua non of what 'gay' life is, indeed there are numerous occasions were Mordden in this and his previous collection when he actually states that those who do not fit into his version of 'gay' are not actually 'gay'.
I realise that times change, attitudes change, but in the same year this collection was published the first Man on Man collection was issued under the editorship of George Stambolian. Mordden was in the collection and so was, amongst others, Brad Gooch, Andrew Holleran, Felice Picano, Richard Hall, Michael Grumley, Robert Ferro, Dennis Cooper, Kevin Killian and Edmund White. None of these authors present their world or experience as the 'gay' one - indeed what that anthology presents is the rich diffuse and indefinable nature of the 'gay' experience. What the first, and then the later, Men on Men anthologies offered was not a rule book but a portrait of world beyond definition and gave a foretaste of the complex 'gay' world of today. Almost all the authors in that first Men on Men volume are worth reading still - Mordden isn't.
it's a nice book. most of the stories are very complex. some of them are really good and great fun to read, but others are just boring. It's a combination of nice fiction and cultural science and that's not my thing.
I just found so much of this dreadfully boring. I didn’t care for his prose, didn’t care for most of the people, and found his own viewpoint cloying. There are probably a total of 50 pages throughout that I really liked but it just couldn’t keep me.
In the Preface to the previous book in this series, I’ve a Feeling We’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Mordden notes that ‘all of gay life is stories’ – and Buddies gives us more of the same. Reading the Introduction, I worried that the author was attempting to impose unity on what was essentially a collection of scattershot pieces. Initially, this was borne out by every story having a self-amused, below-the-title gloss; for example, with ‘The Ideal Couple,’ we get the statement, ‘After fraternities of siblings and of construction workers, we consider a third brotherhood, neither genetic nor professional but cultural.’ This felt like an effortful attempt to tie disparate strings together. However, I was wrong: this collection is considerably more integrated that Mordden’s first, and there are several narrative and thematic pay-offs of a type new this time around.
His prose is as stylish as before, but very occasionally the high style teeters on the verge of incomprehensibility, as in the story just mentioned, where we’re told that ‘Hired help had become as useful as Victrolas: occult leverage raised by the lunatic fringe.’ It feels to me as though time and its specific references have retreated from the second half of that sentence; it is tricky to assign an exact meaning to it.
Two aspects of the narrative voice struck me particularly: that the authorial stand-in, Bud, never describes his own romantic or sexual relationships; and that his mining of his friends’ lives for copy sometimes comes across as off-putting and cold. In the final pages of the final story, Mordden clarifies the first issue: ‘I’ve registered doubt, earlier in this book, about writing about everyone but myself; but when I put myself into a lead role I feel co-opted, disarmed, uncouth.’ At several points, Mordden-as-Bud incorporates writing the piece we are currently reading into the story itself (‘I put the lamp on the bed, lay on my stomach, and began to write; and I’ve taken it down pretty much as it happened.’), and this, in conjunction with the autobiographical pose of the work, makes certain stories rather chilling, as with his clear-eyed recounting of a meeting with ‘The Hottest Man Alive’ and that man’s subsequent decline in the gay world; Bud is evidently thrilled to have this material fall into his lap. (However, this tale’s gloss characterizes it as ‘symbolic… projecting the first years of Stonewall against the fall of a great man,’ so I assume the main character is representative and amalgamative rather than strictly and less forgivably drawn from a single individual’s life.)
When I first bought this book (many years ago, I think because it was on a list of best LGBTQIA+ fiction), I assumed it was a novel. When I finally decided to read it, I thought it was a short story collection. But then I started to read it and realised that it is both and also a memoir and also an essay collection. And I think that hybrid feel is part big why I never really got immersed in this book.
Another reason is that the character Bud, that is to say the narrator, who is the author, but presumably fictionalised, is not someone I find likeable. He is arch, superior, affected, disloyal, he thinks he’s terribly clever and cultured, and he doesn’t treat anyone very well in these stories, not least by writing these stories about them where he spills their darkest secrets, even though the names have been changed and it’s all, presumably, fictionalised and characters get merged etc.
He seems to think he’s writing some kind of celebration of gay life in New York in the 1970s and 1980s, but it all comes across as rather shallow and unpleasant. So when he does a maudlin piece about how there’s actually a dark underbelly to all this glamorous happiness, I didn’t read it as a change of tone.
That said, there are good stories, details, interesting characters. His feral upbringing is amusing. Some of the essay/stories have satisfying arcs, though many don’t quite work. What really comes across is the extent to which being gay in the late twentieth century was much better than in the mid century, most of which had to do with community. In the 2000s wider acceptance and things like equal marriage made these safe havens less necessary, quenching that community far more than AIDS did. Of course gay areas still exist, but they are no longer “ghettos” and they are not the only places to be gay. So this book is a historical snapshot of something very much changed. And I think that’s it’s greatest value.
I've had a little time this morning to reflect more on this collection of essays which sort of follow a storyline. That's part of my problem with this early book on gay culture, much of it written in the early years following the 1969 Stonewall Riots, and the advent of gay culture.
Some sections worked better than others, providing a historical reference to the gay community of the late 1970s (I came out in 1979, so I was very much aware of the events that happened in those years and then into the early 1980s). The book was first published in 1982, and then there were four additional publications that must have added essays, since the author is coloring the later chapters with the shadow of the AIDS epidemic.
The storyline, if we can call it that, follows our author as he moves to NYC in those post-Stonewall years and finds his community and family in the growing gay liberation movement. The chapters alternate loosely between NYC and The Pines on Fire Island (the original fabulous gay ghetto). The author has a small circle of intimate friends, and despite his efforts to flesh them out, the reader never sees them fully, and I think that's partly due to the unusual structure of the book, as well as the often disconnected dialogue that feels full of insider references that probably make sense to the author and his few NYC friends, but confuse other readers.
The book would be like reading ancient history for the younger gay community today. Anyone born after 1980, would think gay culture as self-indulgent and obsessed with sex and more sex.
And it was. And I'm not complaining. I had a lot of fun.
I knew from the introduction that I was going to enjoy this a LOT more than the first book - and I was right. Idk what it is - if Mordden's style developed, or his philosophy, or just the story did, or hell, if maybe *I* did, but it all made so much more sense. Rather than being taken to some whimsical world of myth that simply is stuck in a time I never live, I was moved. By most of the chapters, really.
The main thing keeping me from giving this 5 stars is that Mordden is so ontologically strict in his concepts (perhaps not so much as a writer as he is specifically as a /person/) that it gets grating. Like, even when he learns that there's more nuance than he thought, it still seems utterly insane of him to have been so hung up on certain ideas in the first place. Like, how are you a gay man in the 80s and you barely believe in the CLOSET? It's just bizarre.
The funny thing is that I feel like I could have really interesting conversations with him. I'm probably the person *second*-most invested in ontology that I've ever known, after him. I was kind of surprised when he outright said the word. It's good to know he's self-aware.
Despite taking place in the 80s, it still feels so relevant to today's gay world. The only difference is that they were at the beginning of the AIDS crisis and now everyone takes Prep and is as promiscuous as ever.
The horrors of abuse, homophobia, and self hate run rampant in the stories and feel applicable to me though I wonder if the gay youth of today with their freedom feel any of that stigma and self loathing anymore.
Bud continues to be an observer of those around and revealing inner stories of his friends yet remains separate and detached from it all himself.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Ethan Mordden is a sassy little bitch. I love him. I appreciate the emphasis on the friendships between gay men as opposed to the romantic aspects. The individual, unrelated chapters with the same characters really sets an atmosphere. Felt like a sassy gay version of Friends or Seinfeld.
Interesting as a historical insight into American upper middle class white gay culture during the 80s, underwhelming & blinkered as a novel itself, though I do appreciate the core theme of friendship!
I have to appreciate Mordden's contribution to gay literary. Just have to. I am not someone who picks up works by authors of his level. Difficult to enjoy. Although I got his books months ago, I did not dare to start, until recently.
I admit I have to read the lines twice to be able to absorb what he was sharing. The first chapter itself was good. I laughed. Great humor. However, as I went into more and more chapters, reading twice was no longer tolerable. I began to count pages before the book would end.
This reminded me of reading Larry Kramer's work. Too many characters and at the end, I lost the story flow. Mordden's Buddies was nothing as complicated as Kramer's work but still, I felt that at times, I was lost. I really did not know what he was referring to, and should I read the page before again, to see if I could understand.. I did not want to. So, I just flip the pages, missing some, I would bet, humor in his writing.
Another thing is that one must really know the ongoing in America to understand some of his references. Might be lost on some readers.
A truly beautiful book. Pieced together by different essays and stories. Mordden has a sharp wit and a gift for clear observation. The stand out chapter for me was about gay men's love of the theater. Mordden is a noted theater critic and historian, and this shows in the story of how one man grows up to love the Broadway musical and the ways in which musicals inform his view of the world. Sadly, it feels like so much of the world Mordden wrote about no longer exists; but, it is a pleasure to spend time there with the characters he so vividly creates.
I haven't read this book since it first came out in my early bookstore days but I read it a few times back then. I think I finally sold it at a yard-sale in '92. This book has some genuinely laugh-out-loud, read-aloud-to-a-friend (in my case my husband) moments. Particularly those involving the author's large family of brothers.
Favorite quote... {book is full of little treasures like this one} The culture is here and you are among us. Or no, that was years ago, and the culture has since expanded, broken into factions - political, professional, sexual, intellectual, racial. It is no longer a question, sheerly, of identity, as it was when I was young: of learning you were among us, that we had an us to be among.
I really liked this book even better than the first.It was a nice thing to revisit the charecters from Ive a Feeling Were Not in Kansas Anymore. I am glad that Bobby introduced us to these people. I am now looking forward to the other two books.
I became completely enthralled. Love the characters, dialogue, and especially the complex relationships. Although I grew up in a Midwestern city, the book speaks to my experiences of coming out and developing my own chosen family of friends.
An interesting study of the people one man meets on his journey through gay New York. A little high-brow for me, but some fascinating characters and interesting stories told along the way. Semi-autobiographical.
Reading this as a historic look back to gay New York City (primarily Manhattan), these autobiographical essays present an interesting perspective on a subset of young men as the AIDS crisis developed.
My memories of Mordden's "Buddies" stories were that they were collected stories about a group of friends. Now that I reread them 20-ish years later, I see that they are so much more.
A pitch perfect exploration of the relationships between gay men, both romantic and platonic. Beautifully honest and biting, full of empathy, and necessary reading.