Taken together and spanning more than 30 years, this collection of crucial stories from Freddy's life resonates with the hopes and losses of gay life today. "A perfect gay novel, a canny combination of humor and passion that gives the genre a much-needed boost."--The Advocate.
This is a novel I read years ago and recently rediscovered on my shelves and I decided to review because I still have memories of it, which is a good sign, but also I have a distinct remembrance of thinking it so-so at the time of reading.
It isn't long, but again it wasn't a novel I raced through, it probably held my attention on bus journeys to and from work (I live in London so an admittance of such vehicular commuting is not as unusual, odd or embarrassing as it might be to any American readers). It is probably dated, no I am sure it is dated, but I can't say for sure unless I read some of it again, which won't be anytime soon.
I remember the novel had charm, which is often evanescent, so I wouldn't discourage readers but they could probably read something better.
It's not quite a collection and it's not quite a novel. Instead, "Does Freddy Dance" is a series of literary vignettes which follow the titled character from childhood, through a failed career as a stand-up comic, to his success as a legitimate actor, while encompassing a couple of failed relationships--both romantic and platonic--the death of a lover and various familial trials and tribulations. The book is neither comedy nor drama but, instead, exudes an emotional warmth from each page even while the reader is mentally begging "Freddy" to open up a little and not be quite so distant.
The plot, such as it is, is fairly straight forward. Young Freddy is a budding little gay boy, growing up with his dysfunctional family (complete with alcoholic mother and commandeering lawyer father)and going through a series of dead-end jobs until he finally embarks on a career as a stage actor. There are several affairs, one committed relationship which ends in the death of his lover from AIDS, and several close friendships with women friend, some of which end badly. Freddy sometimes acts as narrator and sometimes chapters are written in the third person, giving the book the feel of a collection even though there's a definite narrative thrust.
There's a lot about this book which, normally, I would object to. Freddy always retains a slight distance; he opens up emotionally such as he is able to but there remains a sense of reserve. Few of the surrounding characters are emotionally engaging and, in some chapters, very little actually happens. Yet there is a fundamental honesty in this book, an emotional truth, which shines through on every page. I have no idea how the author does it, but we're rooting for Freddy throughout--we don't know why, we don't know what we want him to attain, he gives us no reason to take up his struggles. But the reader does it all the same.
"Does Freddy Dance" is far from an emotional bombshell that will have you weeping like Marion Bradley's "The Catch Trap" or Mary Renault's "The Persian Boy", nor is it as epic a read as those kinds of novels. Yet there is an undefinable comparison that one cannot help making. Instead, "Does Freddy Dance" operates as an incredibly (here's that word again) honest and quiet depiction of a young gay man's life. There's no big scenes of gay bashing, no gut-wrenching fights with abusive lovers, no tossing out penniless onto the streets by homophobic parents. Instead, there are simply uncomplicated moments of shining and quiet truth which pop up throughout, snippets of sweetness and sorrow which are infinitely more effective than any sturm und drang would be.
In the end, "Does Freddy Dance" might not make my final list of Top Ten Gay Novels, but it certainly would be a strong contender and a highly recommended read for both gay men and sympathetic heterosexuals alike.
I have a habit of buying books that I plan to read at some point, but then I find them years later still unread. A few years ago I made a concerted effort to read as many of those books as I could, and I've made a serious dent in the numbers.
More recently I found a stack of books next to a bookcase that I had assumed were all books I had read. I was wrong: there were several that sat neglected. When I was looking fast for a book to read on my lunch break, I saw DOES FREDDY DANCE. I couldn't remember if I had read it before or not. I figured I'd take it with me, and I'd find out when the time came.
On my lunch break, I pulled out the book and found the receipt was still in the book. I had purchased it on July 15, 1997, and I had gotten it at 80% off for $1.99. There was an old water stain on the bottom of the book, so I wonder if it had been damaged by getting wet so the bookseller put it on sale. That must have been what enticed me to buy it.
Whatever the reason, I'm glad I did buy this book--even if it took me over 25 years to finally read it. This collection of stories about Freddy, a young gay boy who we follow into adulthood, resonated with me big time. Freddy's alcoholic mother wasn't my alcoholic mother, but, damn, could I relate--to that and to so much more.
The first stories, where Freddy talks about his childhood, captured being a gay kid in the 1960s and 70s beautifully. I knew that boy, and though my experiences weren't entirely the same, I also WAS that boy. The stories are so dead-on that I worried they wouldn't be as good as Freddy grew up and his experiences diverged from mine. I needn't have worried.
The seventh story, "Fallingwater," is about the adult Freddy visiting Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater with his family. It captures his family dynamics beautifully and it pulls the rug out from under the reader—or at least it did for THIS reader—with Freddy’s interactions with his mother. It is a masterpiece.
DOES FREDDY DANCE felt like a novel, especially at first, as the stories were written in the first-person, told by Freddy himself. Then, after several stories in that voice, I was momentarily jarred when the story “L’Attrape de Coeur” switched to the third person, but it ended up being very fitting as that story let the reader follow Freddy and his lover Mark on a trip to Paris, and having the detachment of the third person allowed us to see Freddy more objectively than when we saw things filtered through his eyes. It was very effective.
This collection was just wonderful. I’m glad I found it hiding in the stacks of books in my attic. I know it won’t be another 25 years before I return to it again.