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Tramps Like Us: A Novel
Abused by his father and stifled by closeted life as a teenager in Kansas City, Joe, the wide-eyed narrator of Tramps Like Us, graduates from high school in 1974 and hits the road hitchhiking. But it isn't until he reunites with Ali, his hometown's other queer outcast, that Joe finds a partner in crime. When the two of them finally wash up in New Orleans, they discover a hedonistic paradise of sex, drugs, and music, a world that only expands when they move to San Francisco in 1979.
Told with openhearted frankness, Joe Westmoreland's Tramps Like Us is an exuberantly soulful adventure of self-discovery and belonging, set across a consequential American decade. In New Orleans and San Francisco, and on the roads in between, Joe and Ali find communities of misfits to call their own. The days and nights blur, a blend of LSD and heroin, new wave and disco, orgies and friends, and the thrilling spontaneity of youth—all of which is threatened the moment Joe, Ali, and seemingly everyone around them are diagnosed with HIV. But miraculously, the stories survive. As Eileen Myles writes, "I love this book most of all because it is so mortal."
Tramps Like Us is an ode to a nearly lost generation, an autofictional chronicle of America between gay liberation and the AIDS crisis, and an evergreen testament to the force of friendship.
Told with openhearted frankness, Joe Westmoreland's Tramps Like Us is an exuberantly soulful adventure of self-discovery and belonging, set across a consequential American decade. In New Orleans and San Francisco, and on the roads in between, Joe and Ali find communities of misfits to call their own. The days and nights blur, a blend of LSD and heroin, new wave and disco, orgies and friends, and the thrilling spontaneity of youth—all of which is threatened the moment Joe, Ali, and seemingly everyone around them are diagnosed with HIV. But miraculously, the stories survive. As Eileen Myles writes, "I love this book most of all because it is so mortal."
Tramps Like Us is an ode to a nearly lost generation, an autofictional chronicle of America between gay liberation and the AIDS crisis, and an evergreen testament to the force of friendship.
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First published April 1, 2001
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 323 reviews
December 21, 2024
Some books you pick up and immediately realise that this is going to hurt. And oh boy, was this expectation proven to be right in this case.
Tramps like us invites the reader to witness the journey of narrator Joe, who navigates through the US, various cities, a very formative decade (the 1980s) and his own drive to find a home among misfits. With glimpses of his past, the narrator eases the reader into his present and allows him to tag along on a wild ride through the entirety of the United States, making friends, falling in and out of love, finding home among the unexpected company and always, always finding the high side of life (pun, unfortunately, intended). He allows us, the readers, to bear witness to wonderful moments of companionship, heartbreak, the loneliness probably only few readers can relate to and twists and turns of a life lived not on a linear schedule.
Something that left me really impressed was the factual style of storytelling the narrator uses, yet never creates a distance to the reader. Even if there was not much of a descriptive style of writing, I noticed myself quickly falling in love with this band of societal outcasts, minorities and misfits. Through narrator Joe’s eyes, he painted with clear and precise strokes a picture of this family he found in various cities, with members adding to the bunch and some leaving to their own fates at some point.
This clear, concise storytelling was a stark contrast to an unreliable narrator under the influence of substances, heightened emotions and on the journey to find love, for others and himself, and companionship. It was fascinating, how easily I was dragged into this world that is so foreign to me in more than one sense and started to understand more and more with each chapter, what formed the narrator, his troubles and strengths as well.
This is a story of friendship, of celebrating the high life even if in darker places, of finding new people, of family that is not blood related, of heartbreak, of loneliness, of searching for substitutes, of friendship and companions for a while, of uprooting life, of never standing still, of depression, of life altering diseases and life ending pacts between the people who love each other in more than the romantic sense. This also is a story of utter tragedy. And of comedy, at points. This is a story of life fully lived.
I would love to talk about this book on and on, but I probably would just be reiterating the same few points over and over, which is why I truly recommend reading this yourself. I was not ready for the final chapter, and it did leave me sobbing.
As a final note, I would like to extend my thanks to the publisher and netgalley, for providing me with a digital copy of this book prior to its re-release. To the author, I would like to express my utmost gratitude not only for a copy, but for the book itself, for sharing his story with us through narrator Joe and for letting us witness the life he led with all its bends and twists. I hope you’re as well as can be and I hope you are surrounded by love for many more years to come. Thank you.
Tramps like us invites the reader to witness the journey of narrator Joe, who navigates through the US, various cities, a very formative decade (the 1980s) and his own drive to find a home among misfits. With glimpses of his past, the narrator eases the reader into his present and allows him to tag along on a wild ride through the entirety of the United States, making friends, falling in and out of love, finding home among the unexpected company and always, always finding the high side of life (pun, unfortunately, intended). He allows us, the readers, to bear witness to wonderful moments of companionship, heartbreak, the loneliness probably only few readers can relate to and twists and turns of a life lived not on a linear schedule.
Something that left me really impressed was the factual style of storytelling the narrator uses, yet never creates a distance to the reader. Even if there was not much of a descriptive style of writing, I noticed myself quickly falling in love with this band of societal outcasts, minorities and misfits. Through narrator Joe’s eyes, he painted with clear and precise strokes a picture of this family he found in various cities, with members adding to the bunch and some leaving to their own fates at some point.
This clear, concise storytelling was a stark contrast to an unreliable narrator under the influence of substances, heightened emotions and on the journey to find love, for others and himself, and companionship. It was fascinating, how easily I was dragged into this world that is so foreign to me in more than one sense and started to understand more and more with each chapter, what formed the narrator, his troubles and strengths as well.
This is a story of friendship, of celebrating the high life even if in darker places, of finding new people, of family that is not blood related, of heartbreak, of loneliness, of searching for substitutes, of friendship and companions for a while, of uprooting life, of never standing still, of depression, of life altering diseases and life ending pacts between the people who love each other in more than the romantic sense. This also is a story of utter tragedy. And of comedy, at points. This is a story of life fully lived.
I would love to talk about this book on and on, but I probably would just be reiterating the same few points over and over, which is why I truly recommend reading this yourself. I was not ready for the final chapter, and it did leave me sobbing.
As a final note, I would like to extend my thanks to the publisher and netgalley, for providing me with a digital copy of this book prior to its re-release. To the author, I would like to express my utmost gratitude not only for a copy, but for the book itself, for sharing his story with us through narrator Joe and for letting us witness the life he led with all its bends and twists. I hope you’re as well as can be and I hope you are surrounded by love for many more years to come. Thank you.
August 12, 2025
I loved Joe’s conversational voice. It read as if we were good friends and he was telling me stories. When it was finished, I felt like I had lost a buddy.
July 1, 2025
The Eileen Myles introduction is appropriate, because, although, of course, quite different, Westmoreland has written a superior variation on Chelsea Girls. Tramps Like Us, at first, seems slight slight slight. Unadorned style. Quick pace. Fly-by characters. But then these happenings and the ghosts accumulate. What this becomes is an engrossing adventure/road-trip/picaresque novel of extreme honesty about the gay 70s/80s through solipsism. The protagonist's world always feels small and insular, though, looking back, there are people coming in and out constantly, so many different types. You get to people watch through the astute, colloquial text. The end gutted me (as many AIDS narratives do, but, again, it's a product of the pile-on of detail rather than simply tugging at the AIDS crisis heart strings), and I could have read three hundred more pages with ease. So glad this has been brought back into print. MAJORLY UNDERRATED.
June 29, 2025
Thank you, NetGalley, for providing me with a copy of this book.
Part memoir, part fiction, Joe's amazing book takes us on a joyride of running away from home to preserve his life from his father's anger, hitchhiking along parts of the American East, finding a safer place in Saint Louis where he shares a home with good friend, Ari, with whom he moves to San Francisco, and where he starts experiencing the devastation of the AIDS crisis. Together with it all comes a plethora of drugs, he and his friends share to make life feel more bearable and enjoy the moment, not to mention the wild sex scene of the 1970s and 1980s.
All along the book, I usually felt as if Joe was always looking for a place to belong and be able to find peace of mind, something he couldn't find while growing up back in his native Missouri, always in rage with his father abusing his sister and threatening him with death. Not only a place to belong, but also someone to share his life with. And maybe, isn't it what many misfit boys and girls of those years were yearning for, running away from home and making a new life possible? The AIDS crisis brought a sense of setback and moralism, and it is no wonder it was first called "gay cancer". I tend to see the 1960s to the beginning of the 1980s movements as a way to break away from all the turmoil and fear brought up by the Cold War and the wars the USA and the Soviet Union were playing around the world, killing thousands of young people, when not discarding the combatants as garbage when back home. The Hippies, the heavy Rock'n'Roll, the Punks, the Black Panther Party (aimed to challenge police brutality and systemic racism), the gay liberation movement, the feminist movement etc., all born from the urge of groups within society to question long-held assumptions of right and wrong, of morality, but also a need to bring out voices to express and demand respect and freedom, a way to speak up.
There were excesses, many, and Tramp like us is quite an interesting vision of those times. But as the saying goes, "you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs".
Westmoreland's writing is both tender and wild. And he truly speaks up!
Part memoir, part fiction, Joe's amazing book takes us on a joyride of running away from home to preserve his life from his father's anger, hitchhiking along parts of the American East, finding a safer place in Saint Louis where he shares a home with good friend, Ari, with whom he moves to San Francisco, and where he starts experiencing the devastation of the AIDS crisis. Together with it all comes a plethora of drugs, he and his friends share to make life feel more bearable and enjoy the moment, not to mention the wild sex scene of the 1970s and 1980s.
All along the book, I usually felt as if Joe was always looking for a place to belong and be able to find peace of mind, something he couldn't find while growing up back in his native Missouri, always in rage with his father abusing his sister and threatening him with death. Not only a place to belong, but also someone to share his life with. And maybe, isn't it what many misfit boys and girls of those years were yearning for, running away from home and making a new life possible? The AIDS crisis brought a sense of setback and moralism, and it is no wonder it was first called "gay cancer". I tend to see the 1960s to the beginning of the 1980s movements as a way to break away from all the turmoil and fear brought up by the Cold War and the wars the USA and the Soviet Union were playing around the world, killing thousands of young people, when not discarding the combatants as garbage when back home. The Hippies, the heavy Rock'n'Roll, the Punks, the Black Panther Party (aimed to challenge police brutality and systemic racism), the gay liberation movement, the feminist movement etc., all born from the urge of groups within society to question long-held assumptions of right and wrong, of morality, but also a need to bring out voices to express and demand respect and freedom, a way to speak up.
There were excesses, many, and Tramp like us is quite an interesting vision of those times. But as the saying goes, "you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs".
Westmoreland's writing is both tender and wild. And he truly speaks up!
June 23, 2025
"I ran away from home the first time when I was four years old."
Originally published in 2001, Tramps Like Us by Joe Westmoreland is an epic‐style semi-autobiographical novel about his life as a gay man during the 1960s through to the 1980s in the USA. In less than 30 pages, the reader gets the real sense of Joe's intense life.
Growing up in a conservative and strict household, we soon learn that closeted Joe was abused by his father, his mother rendered powerless, and his siblings equally diminished (many trigger warnings here). This novel shines in its sincerity and vulnerability, with its life lessons in self‐discovery and belonging. Westmoreland does not shy away from the most harrowing descriptions of his life, with some choking and emotional moments that might upset the reader (it is a difficult topic), but without sensationalism. Early in the book, in his teens, after much beating and witnessing, Joe leaves his home and hitchhikes from Missouri to Florida where he starts his nationwide backpacking. Crisscrossing through New York, New Orleans and San Francisco, he is exposed to the glamorous and sexual queer life, where drugs and men are never lacking. The author's descriptions of clothing, music and cultural aspects are truly encyclopaedic in queer culture, and I can imagine this novel's imagery of a fabulous period full of glitter and pain (wait until the AIDS crisis) that will appeal to many readers interested in the gay identity and pride in the USA.
Unfortunately I could not connect with the history on a deeper level, perhaps due to the fact that my upbringing was completely different, and the matter‐of‐fact narration is not to my taste, or the memoir-style of a novel that does not experiment (like Catherine Airey and Maria Reva). One must really question certain aspects when reading a memoir-style novel. The use of language and the personal struggles of an individual might sometimes be exaggerated, misleading the reader. As an example, at some point in the book the author expresses he is bored and depressed. Well, depression is deeper and more damaging than being bored (it is nitpicking, but you get the point). Another aspect I wish were different: he tells the story too quickly, with not enough depth to the characters or even his thinking (at least initially). Joe was an intense teenager/young adult who apparently lived his life as a dare, placing himself in dangerous situations that were common at that age. Bear in mind his upbringing, time and place that led his almost nomadic life to find his chosen family, identity and meaning. Each journey is individual, but in our individuality we can create a beautiful community, a chosen family, many LGBTQ+ people strive for.
Ultimately, I failed to connect with the narrative style and story in general, even though I have an interest in queer culture and history. Nonetheless, Joe Westmoreland's story deserves to be told and read. His story must survive. It is an important period in time of queer history in the USA during the AIDS crisis. I suspect this memoir can be engrossing in understanding this period, as well as exploring musical and queer references from the USA.
Rating: 2.0/5
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Quotes might differ slightly from the final printed version:
Originally published in 2001, Tramps Like Us by Joe Westmoreland is an epic‐style semi-autobiographical novel about his life as a gay man during the 1960s through to the 1980s in the USA. In less than 30 pages, the reader gets the real sense of Joe's intense life.
Growing up in a conservative and strict household, we soon learn that closeted Joe was abused by his father, his mother rendered powerless, and his siblings equally diminished (many trigger warnings here). This novel shines in its sincerity and vulnerability, with its life lessons in self‐discovery and belonging. Westmoreland does not shy away from the most harrowing descriptions of his life, with some choking and emotional moments that might upset the reader (it is a difficult topic), but without sensationalism. Early in the book, in his teens, after much beating and witnessing, Joe leaves his home and hitchhikes from Missouri to Florida where he starts his nationwide backpacking. Crisscrossing through New York, New Orleans and San Francisco, he is exposed to the glamorous and sexual queer life, where drugs and men are never lacking. The author's descriptions of clothing, music and cultural aspects are truly encyclopaedic in queer culture, and I can imagine this novel's imagery of a fabulous period full of glitter and pain (wait until the AIDS crisis) that will appeal to many readers interested in the gay identity and pride in the USA.
Unfortunately I could not connect with the history on a deeper level, perhaps due to the fact that my upbringing was completely different, and the matter‐of‐fact narration is not to my taste, or the memoir-style of a novel that does not experiment (like Catherine Airey and Maria Reva). One must really question certain aspects when reading a memoir-style novel. The use of language and the personal struggles of an individual might sometimes be exaggerated, misleading the reader. As an example, at some point in the book the author expresses he is bored and depressed. Well, depression is deeper and more damaging than being bored (it is nitpicking, but you get the point). Another aspect I wish were different: he tells the story too quickly, with not enough depth to the characters or even his thinking (at least initially). Joe was an intense teenager/young adult who apparently lived his life as a dare, placing himself in dangerous situations that were common at that age. Bear in mind his upbringing, time and place that led his almost nomadic life to find his chosen family, identity and meaning. Each journey is individual, but in our individuality we can create a beautiful community, a chosen family, many LGBTQ+ people strive for.
Ultimately, I failed to connect with the narrative style and story in general, even though I have an interest in queer culture and history. Nonetheless, Joe Westmoreland's story deserves to be told and read. His story must survive. It is an important period in time of queer history in the USA during the AIDS crisis. I suspect this memoir can be engrossing in understanding this period, as well as exploring musical and queer references from the USA.
Rating: 2.0/5
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest and unbiased review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Quotes might differ slightly from the final printed version:
February 11, 2026
There are people in the world who aren’t fancy or sophisticated or sexy or even charming but have some kind of authentic quality that makes them attractive and trustworthy and charismatic. That’s how Westmoreland’s prose reads—I can’t sense any special artistry and there is nothing innovative here, but each sentence rings true. I find that truthful quality particularly interesting because this book, though it reads purely as a memoir or even just a retelling of life stories, is billed as a novel. Autofiction is possibly my favorite genre when it is done this well, because you don’t find yourself pondering which part is “auto” and which part is “fiction.” It all just feels true, and I think that’s the aim of the genre.
A great read, if not one that has great literary significance.
A great read, if not one that has great literary significance.
June 24, 2025
I didn't understand why I'd never heard of this book, which should be up there in defining queer literature, until I read the afterward by the author. Tramps Like Us was published in April 2001. A week later, its publisher suffered a heart attack, and the author and his team decided to push the book's official launch until Westmoreland's birthday—September 11. Tramps Like Us never really stood a chance, especially once the author's own HIV-related health issues became pramount.
You could say that the book's story mirrors that of its narrator. Joe is on the run from childhood trauma that he never really escapes. From Kansas City to New Orleans to San Francisco in the early 80s, he is always looking for home, which he finds in the troop of fellow queer misfits he gathers along the way. He says, "We were all refugees from one kind of torment or another and could never go back home. Home was something in the future that had yet to be created, not someplace in the past."
Of course, while the family he forms is forever, the peace Joe finds is fleeting. The chapter that begins after these words is called "How I Got HIV" and, soon after, the realities of the AIDS epidemic become terrifyingly clear. What I liked most about this book was that it isn't just about the trauma of the 80s; instead, it blends that trauma with very real joy that you'd think couldn't coexist (along with a killer soundtrack). It's never been more important to learn from our communities' struggles past to help inform our path forward today, and I'm so glad that Tramps Like Us was given new life to help us do just that.
You could say that the book's story mirrors that of its narrator. Joe is on the run from childhood trauma that he never really escapes. From Kansas City to New Orleans to San Francisco in the early 80s, he is always looking for home, which he finds in the troop of fellow queer misfits he gathers along the way. He says, "We were all refugees from one kind of torment or another and could never go back home. Home was something in the future that had yet to be created, not someplace in the past."
Of course, while the family he forms is forever, the peace Joe finds is fleeting. The chapter that begins after these words is called "How I Got HIV" and, soon after, the realities of the AIDS epidemic become terrifyingly clear. What I liked most about this book was that it isn't just about the trauma of the 80s; instead, it blends that trauma with very real joy that you'd think couldn't coexist (along with a killer soundtrack). It's never been more important to learn from our communities' struggles past to help inform our path forward today, and I'm so glad that Tramps Like Us was given new life to help us do just that.
Read
December 10, 2024A matter-of-factly told story about growing up in the USA in the years just before and at the beginning of the AIDS epidemic. What struck me most was, on the one hand, the style, which, while naturalistic, has a cumulative effect, so that at some point all the drugs, violence and death are described with the same calm attitude as the weather report. On the other hand, I was constantly amazed at how different the times were, when you could just get up and go, travel around, work wherever and somehow not only survive but actually enjoy life a little. Quite a different picture compared to today.
September 16, 2025
this is easily the best book I have read this year and definitely an all time top. I have not had a book captivate or make me sob like this is so long it was so refreshing. The last chapters I had to put the book down and collect myself before continuing because I was such a mess. Queer-chosen family is so important
July 26, 2026
Romantic sociology
is how Eileen Myles characterizes Tramps Like Us—with its detail of the past present, with Westmoreland's clear documentary-like prose— in their introduction to the 2025 reissue.
Sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll. And R&B, and New Wave, and punk. Tramps, autofiction wearing a dressing gown of jukebox playlists, is a diligent in situ cataloguer of the music that made Westmoreland's youth, of its hold and haunts. If you can hear it as you read it, it must be enlivening, or else of sociological interest—but to me it was tiring.
When AIDS arrives, when unknowing fear arrives, when death arrives it is that documentary-like quality of prose, that transparency one can fall through, that near-monotony of literary voice that makes the numbing shock of tragedy all the more felt. It is with blank factfulness that the dying see themselves from above as they anaesthetized upon a hospital bed, that the yet-to-leave see visions of the dying.
______
this review was based off a reading of a digital advanced review copy, provided by farrar, straus and giroux through netgalley in june 2025... that i ughhhhhhhhhhhh forgot about.
Sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll. And R&B, and New Wave, and punk. Tramps, autofiction wearing a dressing gown of jukebox playlists, is a diligent in situ cataloguer of the music that made Westmoreland's youth, of its hold and haunts. If you can hear it as you read it, it must be enlivening, or else of sociological interest—but to me it was tiring.
When AIDS arrives, when unknowing fear arrives, when death arrives it is that documentary-like quality of prose, that transparency one can fall through, that near-monotony of literary voice that makes the numbing shock of tragedy all the more felt. It is with blank factfulness that the dying see themselves from above as they anaesthetized upon a hospital bed, that the yet-to-leave see visions of the dying.
______
this review was based off a reading of a digital advanced review copy, provided by farrar, straus and giroux through netgalley in june 2025... that i ughhhhhhhhhhhh forgot about.
June 20, 2026
Het is Pride-maand en dus las ik een boek van een queer schrijver (hoewel ik dat ook lees in alle overige maanden).
Tramps Like Us is een roman gebaseerd op Westmoreland's eigen leven en het is geen gemakkelijk verhaal.
Naast seks, drugs en aids, is het ook een verhaal over vriendschap en zelfgekozen familie. Het is rauw, pijnlijk en bot maar ook teder en zacht. Mooi.
Tramps like us, baby we were born to run - Bruce Springsteen
Tramps Like Us is een roman gebaseerd op Westmoreland's eigen leven en het is geen gemakkelijk verhaal.
Naast seks, drugs en aids, is het ook een verhaal over vriendschap en zelfgekozen familie. Het is rauw, pijnlijk en bot maar ook teder en zacht. Mooi.
Tramps like us, baby we were born to run - Bruce Springsteen
September 23, 2007
Like Chelsea Girls, this is sort of a novel, sort of a memoir about a young queer guy in the 70s and 80s. If you like Michelle Tea's writing, you should check this out.
July 23, 2025
Loved it. A beautiful and heartbreaking slice of humanity. So refreshing to read such a plain spoken novel - unadorned- just life in all its fullness.
August 8, 2025
oh my god…. i really loved this book. such a real exploration of a slice of time and queer friendships.
loved the writing style. was quick and fast paced.
i cried for the last 60 pages.
loved the writing style. was quick and fast paced.
i cried for the last 60 pages.
April 23, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley and MCD for this ARC!
“Tramps Like Us” is a semi-autobiographical novel telling the partially fictionalised story of author Joe Westmoreland’s life, from growing up in 1960s and 70s Missouri to moving around the United States, living in places such as New Orleans and San Francisco. Along the way we watch the narrator, Joe, come into his identity as a gay man, learn what he likes and dislikes, find friends and lovers and of course do a whole lot of drugs. But despite the prevalence of scenes of him and his friends going from club to bar and bar to club, at the heart of this novel is the story of queer people and social underdogs coming together and building their own family units, their own support systems, which are there for them even in death.
As someone born in the 2000s I have absolutely no way of even imagining the gay experience of the 70s and 80s, but I really liked the way this book portrayed both the ups and downs of this time. It showed how many people were alienated from their families and how they found their own, new families, it showed the fun of drugs and partying, but also how those things could drain you, and it showed a great variety of different ways of getting through (and sometimes ahead in) life.
Of course one can’t talk about a gay book set in the 80s without also mentioning AIDS. While this book does discuss and show the effects of the mounting AIDS epidemic on our narrator and his friends, I certainly wouldn’t say it is the focus of the book. It is, however, much of the focus of the last 20% or so, as the narration enters the mid-80s, and these last 20% filled me equally with dread and heartbreak, but also with genuine warmth as we watch these characters care for each other through the last months of someone’s life, doing everything to be there for the sick and for each other. As I cherish friendships over any other relationships, reading these scenes meant the world to me.
Another element I felt was very important to this book’s identity were the many references to music – the music the narrator likes, the music his friends like, the music playing in the clubs and bars they go to, the concerts they go see. I unfortunately have near zero knowledge of 60s-80s New Wave (?) music, but if you do I imagine this book will hit even harder for you, especially in the nostalgia department.
Really the only thing I feel I must mention before someone reads this book (and I think everyone should) is its writing style. I am someone who tends to prefer purple prose, so the very simplistic writing style with short sentences was a bit difficult for me to get into, but if that is something you prefer you’ll probably fly through this even more quickly than I did.
Overall I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to know more about queer life in the 70s/80s, one person’s experience of the AIDS epidemic, or if you really love this period’s music and want to have a fun (but heartbreaking, keep that in mind) ride down memory lane.
“Tramps Like Us” is a semi-autobiographical novel telling the partially fictionalised story of author Joe Westmoreland’s life, from growing up in 1960s and 70s Missouri to moving around the United States, living in places such as New Orleans and San Francisco. Along the way we watch the narrator, Joe, come into his identity as a gay man, learn what he likes and dislikes, find friends and lovers and of course do a whole lot of drugs. But despite the prevalence of scenes of him and his friends going from club to bar and bar to club, at the heart of this novel is the story of queer people and social underdogs coming together and building their own family units, their own support systems, which are there for them even in death.
As someone born in the 2000s I have absolutely no way of even imagining the gay experience of the 70s and 80s, but I really liked the way this book portrayed both the ups and downs of this time. It showed how many people were alienated from their families and how they found their own, new families, it showed the fun of drugs and partying, but also how those things could drain you, and it showed a great variety of different ways of getting through (and sometimes ahead in) life.
Of course one can’t talk about a gay book set in the 80s without also mentioning AIDS. While this book does discuss and show the effects of the mounting AIDS epidemic on our narrator and his friends, I certainly wouldn’t say it is the focus of the book. It is, however, much of the focus of the last 20% or so, as the narration enters the mid-80s, and these last 20% filled me equally with dread and heartbreak, but also with genuine warmth as we watch these characters care for each other through the last months of someone’s life, doing everything to be there for the sick and for each other. As I cherish friendships over any other relationships, reading these scenes meant the world to me.
Another element I felt was very important to this book’s identity were the many references to music – the music the narrator likes, the music his friends like, the music playing in the clubs and bars they go to, the concerts they go see. I unfortunately have near zero knowledge of 60s-80s New Wave (?) music, but if you do I imagine this book will hit even harder for you, especially in the nostalgia department.
Really the only thing I feel I must mention before someone reads this book (and I think everyone should) is its writing style. I am someone who tends to prefer purple prose, so the very simplistic writing style with short sentences was a bit difficult for me to get into, but if that is something you prefer you’ll probably fly through this even more quickly than I did.
Overall I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to know more about queer life in the 70s/80s, one person’s experience of the AIDS epidemic, or if you really love this period’s music and want to have a fun (but heartbreaking, keep that in mind) ride down memory lane.
July 7, 2025
Good read but a little too diaristic - a lot of “this happened, then this happened, then I went here.” Still effective but I need a little more poetry! Would probably be 3.5 if Goodreads allowed half stars.
June 5, 2025
genuinely a masterpiece
February 20, 2026
I’m glad all gay books aren’t depressing AIDS stories anymore, but once in awhile you need one of those. And I thought this one was pretty much perfect. Afterword by the author really cemented it.
June 10, 2026
My god this was such a snooze, it felt he was just doing the same thing over and over again.
July 15, 2025
A book that, after 24 years in the making, finally finds itself within the canon of gay literature. I'm once again awestruck by gay culture as it was in the 70s and 80s, not with feelings of envy or FOMO (at least I think so); rather, I'm awestruck by the resilience of our cultural progenitors, as most cultural progeny ought to be (in my opinion). This illustrates a time when the threats our community faced were more concrete than its future, a reality that contrasts our present, when our threats seem multifaceted and existential but our future unnervingly preordained and bound for one outcome, the loss of rights.
Lots of melodrama coming from a young, white, gay man, but, as this book so elegantly demonstrates, that's one of the few things we're good for! I loved this book; it made me cry and seems to have reignited my interest in queer history. A history that is more dangerous and analog, seedier, freer, and less commercialized than right now. Naturally, one of the highest praises a book can receive is that it sucked you in or "transported" you somewhere. I could smell and taste this book, I felt my shoes catching on the sticky drag club floor, and I heard queens squealing in the Tenderloin (and I've never been to SF!).
As I assume it happened in real life, the HIV/AIDS epidemic sneaks into the narrative, first in a background role as Gay Cancer; then it forces its way into Joe's life and cements itself as a supporting character in its final form. The crux of my interest in queer history is centered around HIV/AIDS; it stole an entire generation, and the horror of that theft is on full display in this book.
Maybe time will temper my thoughts on this book; who knows!
Lots of melodrama coming from a young, white, gay man, but, as this book so elegantly demonstrates, that's one of the few things we're good for! I loved this book; it made me cry and seems to have reignited my interest in queer history. A history that is more dangerous and analog, seedier, freer, and less commercialized than right now. Naturally, one of the highest praises a book can receive is that it sucked you in or "transported" you somewhere. I could smell and taste this book, I felt my shoes catching on the sticky drag club floor, and I heard queens squealing in the Tenderloin (and I've never been to SF!).
As I assume it happened in real life, the HIV/AIDS epidemic sneaks into the narrative, first in a background role as Gay Cancer; then it forces its way into Joe's life and cements itself as a supporting character in its final form. The crux of my interest in queer history is centered around HIV/AIDS; it stole an entire generation, and the horror of that theft is on full display in this book.
Maybe time will temper my thoughts on this book; who knows!
November 6, 2026
I often find it hard to put my perspectives on lgbt literature to the page. Did I like the novel because it was gay or because it was actually well constructed? This was both to me. I love a book where nothing happens but everything does, and this is one of those. The found family motif that underpins so much of gay culture pulses throughout; the writing style is matter-of-fact and conversational; we hear every one of our protagonists thoughts but time is not spent qualifying them. It feels real and raw and authentic to the gay experience for that reason, despite (or maybe even because of) most of the novel being a running train of thought situated in the present moment.
There’s a quote from Dan Savage that has stuck with me: “During the darkest days of the AIDS crisis, we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night. The dance kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for. It didn’t look like we were going to win then and we did. It doesn’t feel like we’re going to win now but we could. Keep fighting, keep dancing.”
That’s what this book felt like
There’s a quote from Dan Savage that has stuck with me: “During the darkest days of the AIDS crisis, we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night. The dance kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for. It didn’t look like we were going to win then and we did. It doesn’t feel like we’re going to win now but we could. Keep fighting, keep dancing.”
That’s what this book felt like
October 5, 2026
The afterword explains the unfortunate circumstances which barred this book from reaching the heights it could have, but I'm really glad to have found it. This belongs in the canon of great North American queer lit!! You know the story: closeted queer boy in the American late 70s leaves a terrible family to find a new family of companionship with misfits--adventures, friendship, music, road trips, drugs, love and sex and gay drama ensues! Then AIDS hits in full. Westmoreland's straight-forward narrator and the uniquely sincere prose kept the story intimate and fresh.
Reminded me of two of my favorite misfits and sex and cross-country trips books: Gutterboys by Alvin Orloff and City of Night by John Rechy. If you know those two books, or if you don't, check TRAMPS out!
Reminded me of two of my favorite misfits and sex and cross-country trips books: Gutterboys by Alvin Orloff and City of Night by John Rechy. If you know those two books, or if you don't, check TRAMPS out!
February 19, 2026
I feel bag giving this 3 stars because I have a thing for AIDS books but it didn’t meet my hopes/expectations! It was a good story but rather meandering and none of the different storylines really gripped me. But of course I loved the sentiments, the friendships, the pain portrayed and the fact that it is a true depiction of the AIDS crisis.
August 18, 2026
The type of stories told to you by an old gay guy at larry’s lounge (lovingly)
October 14, 2026
This novel brought up some powerful and mixed emotions for me. I view it as much more than a semi-biographical piece of fiction documenting what it was like to live through the advent of the AIDS crisis, though I by no means do I wish to diminish the impact the “gay plague" had upon the targeted population in the waning years of the sexual revolution.
For those who had not yet been born, allow me to point out that AIDS represented a kind of existential threat that in no way compares to the more recent COVID pandemic, not simply because the mysterious disease, when it was first diagnosed, was the equivalent of a death sentence. More importantly a diagnosis carried with it a kind of stigma I am afraid many of us have too soon forgotten about. When testing finally became available I was asked to vote on a statewide ballot initiative that, if passed, would mandate testing and demand that those who tested positive be placed in concentration camps to protect the larger public from infection. Many believed once the pathogen had proved blood borne it could be passed by mosquito bites. This proves that hate filled and fear stimulated political disinformation is not necessarily strictly a modern phenomenon.
But in the beginning the syndrome was first identified as the “gay cancer” and was soon provided a more clinical name: GRID (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency). Within the gay community, initially, it was widely believed that the condition may be related to the use of poppers and, as so few are able to recognize that correlation is NOT causation, this was a convenient belief that helped to mitigate fear of the unknown. Many queer people could be found rationalizing why the illness might never affect them. Illness was associated with older gay men, or only those who dabbled in the rarer of sexual fetishes. Existential crises have a way of really messing with one's critical processes.
It would be several years before transmission pathways would be hypothesized and it wasn’t until the actual virus had been isolated was anyone willing to view the idea of practicing safe sex as anything other than hate filled bias perpetrated by the straight community for the purposes of wresting any kind of joy from gay sex. Having lived through this is one reason why I had to chuckle when, during COVID, some people whined so bitterly about donning a mask in public. In protest I encountered many who used the mask as nothing more than a chin brace. Just imagine what their response would be if they were asked to wear a condom during sex!
Meanwhile the rest of the 1980s proceeded much as one might expect given the period of sexual exploration that characterized the previous decade. This is where our protagonist comes in. His name is Joe. He relates his tale in relatively short, clipped, matter of fact sentences that at times sound an awful lot like diary entries. In fact, our “fictional” Joe, who happens to have the same first name as our authorial Joe, are both described as avid journalists. This might perhaps help explain why many of the cultural / historical events referenced in the text contain such minute details. Very few people have memories that are quite so detailed, yet those of us who journal have access to source material not available to the general public.
Our fictional Joe is said to have graduated high school in 1974. For reasons I will not get into here he feels compelled to hitchhike his way around the country in a spiritual / sexual quest for selfhood. This brings him to several hip metropolitan communities where rents are cheap. What is inadvertently being described here is how artists and queer people helped pave the way for the kind of gentrification that would continue through the end of the century. Oh-oh, look out! Here come the artists and queers. Everyone get ready for the rents to rise!
As well as documenting what it felt like to survive this tumultuous time, filled with hope and art and drugs and disco and orgies and fear and (relative) poverty much in the style of La Bohème, the novel is also very important narrative about the economic freedom available to the characters of this period. Joe informs us repeatedly, for example, that as long as he had minimal word processing (computer) skills and understood something about project management, he was readily employable. He even manages to live on unemployment insurance for a time. At another point he manages to live alone in a one bedroom apartment on a single income.
This is where the confusing parallels come in for me personally. Much like our fictional Joe, I would also graduate from High School in the 1970s. I would also hitchhike around the country in search of a “found” family (we did not have a name for this yet), and a place to more accurately call “home”. I also would gravitate to hip urban, low-rent communities and live there until I was priced out. I also would surround myself with other queers and artists until that La Bohème ending manifested itself. This was all possible then because of a set of economic circumstances that were rapidly becoming extinct, but I still recognize Joe's story as essentially my own.
There was even a time when, after being laid off from a job, I was able to survive in a one bedroom apartment living only off of unemployment insurance, which I milked for as long as I could. I considered my unemployment a kind of “artists relief” which allowed me to explore new modes of creative expression using different media I may not have otherwise had the time to master. Today when unemployment is experienced by someone of the same age group, it is more likely they are not living in a hip, urban, environment, but subsisting out in the suburbs living in their parents basement. There are no longer enclaves of cheap rent. We can’t construct a “found” family in the same way we might have prior to the turn of the century. The lifestyle articulated in TRAMPS LIKE US is simply no longer affordable. The employment opportunities available to Joe likewise no longer exist. In essence, it took a lot more than AIDS to destroy the beloved community, but these kinds of lessons are lost without the kind of historical record brought to us by the likes of this novel.
(If there were a volume two of this novel, or a TRAMPS LIKE US VERSION 2.0, we would find our hero seeking out some kind of professional credential that allowed him economic survival after the turn of the century. See the author Joe’s afterward for a description of how this may have turned out. As for myself I began collecting graduate degrees like a boy scout collects scout badges, all in an endless race to see who could collect the largest student loan debt. We would then discover that we were all part of the first American generation to not achieve as high a standard of living as the generation that came before us. The only acquaintances I know who may have escaped this fate I first met in college and were all born into wealthy families.)
I may have at times taken exception to the style the voice this novel adopts. But at the same time I found the voice entirely appropriate. Note: this is not a “mainstream” story, you will not find the likes of this in some television afternoon special. There are elements that are shockingly graphic, but at the same time matter of factley stated. It is NOT exploitation and not intentionally shocking for the sake of shock value alone. They are only shocking because, even after all this time, they describe varieties of sex which for some reason we are not entirely comfortable discussing aloud even today. For all that we have been through, and even though the particulars of our sexual practices have been thoroughly linked to our continued physical health, we still are not able to talk about sex in an explicit and straight-forward manner. So when was the last time the particulars of fisting found their way into your dinnertime conversation?
I am reminded of a story told to me by someone employed as a midwife and counselor at a family planning clinic who was ministering to a young couple who had become unexpectedly pregnant and decided they wanted to keep the child. “OK””, my friend said, “but while we are here perhaps it is time we have a discussion regarding safe sex practices for the future?”
“Oh there is no need for that”, replied the pregnant woman, “my partner and I ALWAYS practice safe sex.”
At which point all my friend could do was loudly clear her voice and before quietly asking the question: “Well then, how exactly do you believe you became pregnant?”
BTW: My edition of this novel came with an introduction by Eileen Myles who really managed to place this book into a useful perspective. Well worth seeking out. She points out that the style of this book is very much "present tense” and even though at times it may read emotionally flat, it remains more effective that a great deal of other novels that attempt to fictionalize this period of time, the major problem being that other works can’t help but to sensationalize the topic where Joe is simply relaying what happened to him.
For those who had not yet been born, allow me to point out that AIDS represented a kind of existential threat that in no way compares to the more recent COVID pandemic, not simply because the mysterious disease, when it was first diagnosed, was the equivalent of a death sentence. More importantly a diagnosis carried with it a kind of stigma I am afraid many of us have too soon forgotten about. When testing finally became available I was asked to vote on a statewide ballot initiative that, if passed, would mandate testing and demand that those who tested positive be placed in concentration camps to protect the larger public from infection. Many believed once the pathogen had proved blood borne it could be passed by mosquito bites. This proves that hate filled and fear stimulated political disinformation is not necessarily strictly a modern phenomenon.
But in the beginning the syndrome was first identified as the “gay cancer” and was soon provided a more clinical name: GRID (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency). Within the gay community, initially, it was widely believed that the condition may be related to the use of poppers and, as so few are able to recognize that correlation is NOT causation, this was a convenient belief that helped to mitigate fear of the unknown. Many queer people could be found rationalizing why the illness might never affect them. Illness was associated with older gay men, or only those who dabbled in the rarer of sexual fetishes. Existential crises have a way of really messing with one's critical processes.
It would be several years before transmission pathways would be hypothesized and it wasn’t until the actual virus had been isolated was anyone willing to view the idea of practicing safe sex as anything other than hate filled bias perpetrated by the straight community for the purposes of wresting any kind of joy from gay sex. Having lived through this is one reason why I had to chuckle when, during COVID, some people whined so bitterly about donning a mask in public. In protest I encountered many who used the mask as nothing more than a chin brace. Just imagine what their response would be if they were asked to wear a condom during sex!
Meanwhile the rest of the 1980s proceeded much as one might expect given the period of sexual exploration that characterized the previous decade. This is where our protagonist comes in. His name is Joe. He relates his tale in relatively short, clipped, matter of fact sentences that at times sound an awful lot like diary entries. In fact, our “fictional” Joe, who happens to have the same first name as our authorial Joe, are both described as avid journalists. This might perhaps help explain why many of the cultural / historical events referenced in the text contain such minute details. Very few people have memories that are quite so detailed, yet those of us who journal have access to source material not available to the general public.
Our fictional Joe is said to have graduated high school in 1974. For reasons I will not get into here he feels compelled to hitchhike his way around the country in a spiritual / sexual quest for selfhood. This brings him to several hip metropolitan communities where rents are cheap. What is inadvertently being described here is how artists and queer people helped pave the way for the kind of gentrification that would continue through the end of the century. Oh-oh, look out! Here come the artists and queers. Everyone get ready for the rents to rise!
As well as documenting what it felt like to survive this tumultuous time, filled with hope and art and drugs and disco and orgies and fear and (relative) poverty much in the style of La Bohème, the novel is also very important narrative about the economic freedom available to the characters of this period. Joe informs us repeatedly, for example, that as long as he had minimal word processing (computer) skills and understood something about project management, he was readily employable. He even manages to live on unemployment insurance for a time. At another point he manages to live alone in a one bedroom apartment on a single income.
This is where the confusing parallels come in for me personally. Much like our fictional Joe, I would also graduate from High School in the 1970s. I would also hitchhike around the country in search of a “found” family (we did not have a name for this yet), and a place to more accurately call “home”. I also would gravitate to hip urban, low-rent communities and live there until I was priced out. I also would surround myself with other queers and artists until that La Bohème ending manifested itself. This was all possible then because of a set of economic circumstances that were rapidly becoming extinct, but I still recognize Joe's story as essentially my own.
There was even a time when, after being laid off from a job, I was able to survive in a one bedroom apartment living only off of unemployment insurance, which I milked for as long as I could. I considered my unemployment a kind of “artists relief” which allowed me to explore new modes of creative expression using different media I may not have otherwise had the time to master. Today when unemployment is experienced by someone of the same age group, it is more likely they are not living in a hip, urban, environment, but subsisting out in the suburbs living in their parents basement. There are no longer enclaves of cheap rent. We can’t construct a “found” family in the same way we might have prior to the turn of the century. The lifestyle articulated in TRAMPS LIKE US is simply no longer affordable. The employment opportunities available to Joe likewise no longer exist. In essence, it took a lot more than AIDS to destroy the beloved community, but these kinds of lessons are lost without the kind of historical record brought to us by the likes of this novel.
(If there were a volume two of this novel, or a TRAMPS LIKE US VERSION 2.0, we would find our hero seeking out some kind of professional credential that allowed him economic survival after the turn of the century. See the author Joe’s afterward for a description of how this may have turned out. As for myself I began collecting graduate degrees like a boy scout collects scout badges, all in an endless race to see who could collect the largest student loan debt. We would then discover that we were all part of the first American generation to not achieve as high a standard of living as the generation that came before us. The only acquaintances I know who may have escaped this fate I first met in college and were all born into wealthy families.)
I may have at times taken exception to the style the voice this novel adopts. But at the same time I found the voice entirely appropriate. Note: this is not a “mainstream” story, you will not find the likes of this in some television afternoon special. There are elements that are shockingly graphic, but at the same time matter of factley stated. It is NOT exploitation and not intentionally shocking for the sake of shock value alone. They are only shocking because, even after all this time, they describe varieties of sex which for some reason we are not entirely comfortable discussing aloud even today. For all that we have been through, and even though the particulars of our sexual practices have been thoroughly linked to our continued physical health, we still are not able to talk about sex in an explicit and straight-forward manner. So when was the last time the particulars of fisting found their way into your dinnertime conversation?
I am reminded of a story told to me by someone employed as a midwife and counselor at a family planning clinic who was ministering to a young couple who had become unexpectedly pregnant and decided they wanted to keep the child. “OK””, my friend said, “but while we are here perhaps it is time we have a discussion regarding safe sex practices for the future?”
“Oh there is no need for that”, replied the pregnant woman, “my partner and I ALWAYS practice safe sex.”
At which point all my friend could do was loudly clear her voice and before quietly asking the question: “Well then, how exactly do you believe you became pregnant?”
BTW: My edition of this novel came with an introduction by Eileen Myles who really managed to place this book into a useful perspective. Well worth seeking out. She points out that the style of this book is very much "present tense” and even though at times it may read emotionally flat, it remains more effective that a great deal of other novels that attempt to fictionalize this period of time, the major problem being that other works can’t help but to sensationalize the topic where Joe is simply relaying what happened to him.
September 22, 2025
Wow! This was utterly delightful and easily becomes the best book I've read this year. I've been thinking about it the whole week since I finished it. It is both so simple and plain and direct and also so expansive and deep and epic in scope. It is all memory and matter of factness. We follow a young Joe hitchhiking across the country, fleeing a toxic American midwestern family; we encounter characters (literal and figurative) in Missouri, Florida, New York, Louisiana and finally (where else?) California. People struggling to get by, to get laid, to get high, to find out who they are, to hide who they are: Tramps (like us). There is hot sex, although it never feels explicit and much of it happens in single sentences. There is drug use, although there is not a lick of judgment. There is sickness and death, both mentally and emotionally but also physically (This is the story of a gay man in the 1970s and 1980s after all.). The utter lack of pathologizing made this journey refreshing -- Joe accepts the world as it is and others as they are; he does not even conceive that there is any other way. Much of its magic stems from its setting (70s and 80s) and its pov (late 90s/early 00s) and its backstory (it was initially "lost" to time after its original publication date of September 11, 2001 with fairy godmother eileen myles on the scene to summon the book into print two times). The word I keep thinking of is: apparitions. This book sure does conjure them.
October 8, 2025
I’m giving this book a 4.5/5. The author Joe Westmoreland writes at the perfect pace, tone, and focuses in on the important stuff. The plot is honestly really interesting, and as chaotic as the main characters life. I have read plenty of books that speak about HIV but this one really painted a picture of what queer life was like BEFORE the HIV epidemic began.
I really enjoyed the character development, and one off stories he would share. There were some times that the scenes were so intense or vivid that I debated skipping the page to stop myself from getting sick.
Overall, I really enjoyed the storyline, and hadn’t really anticipated how this book was going to end before it was too late.
I really enjoyed the character development, and one off stories he would share. There were some times that the scenes were so intense or vivid that I debated skipping the page to stop myself from getting sick.
Overall, I really enjoyed the storyline, and hadn’t really anticipated how this book was going to end before it was too late.
April 7, 2026
Well written book
The chronological history of the author's life makes the reader understand the life lived by young people during the first years of the AIDS epidemic. Then it leads us fast forward to the eventful deaths of the author's friends and the leaving behind of his best friend is truly emotional.
The chronological history of the author's life makes the reader understand the life lived by young people during the first years of the AIDS epidemic. Then it leads us fast forward to the eventful deaths of the author's friends and the leaving behind of his best friend is truly emotional.
November 2, 2025
I actually really enjoyed reading this book, we need more stories about this era of queer history. This outflow of liberation love and ecstasy that was met with so much fear disease and death. All these stories. I just wish the book had more prose to it. The writing is a little bit too much strictly narrative. 3.5⭐️
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