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Vertical Intercourse
Here, with Vertical Intercourse, comes Paul Reed`s long-awaited third novel, a stunning, stylish, and deeply moving tale of nine friends. Set in San Francisco - with all the haunting lyricism for which Reed is known - this novel examines the beauty of romance, the challenges of relationships, and confrontations with the past. As the novel opens, the narrator is meeting with his new therapist for the first time, hoping to find meaning as he approaches his fortieth birthday. His rich social life involves an intriguing group of men and women, each filled with enthusiasm and the joy of living fully, despite difficulties and setbacks - from the ebullient young woman called `Mad Mama,` to AIDS patient Michael, and the narrator`s housemates and best friend Charlton, an older gentleman with all the wisdom and grace of having seen it all. But the inevitable challenges of life intervene, and each character must confront the meaning of aging in the gay community, of health crises beyond the epidemic, of masculinity, dashed dreams, and hope.
201 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2000
19 people want to read
About the author
Paul Reed
52 books2 followersHe was born Paul Hustoft to Sigurd William and Melva Hustoft in San Diego, California on May 28, 1956. Reed, whose biological father died when he was five months old, also had a sister, Karen Hustoft, and a stepfather, who was a Baptist preacher. Reed legally changed his last name in 1969.
As a child and adolescent, Reed studied the organ and harpsichord, and as an adult, he obtained a B. A. in Sociology from California State University, Chico in 1978 and an M. A. in Social Anthropology from the University of California at Davis in 1981.
Reed attended his first gay pride parade in San Francisco in 1980, and moved to the city in July 1981. He remained in the Bay area for the remainder of his life.
Reed's move to San Francisco occurred one month after the Centers for Disease Control published "Pneumocystis Pneumonia: Los Angeles" in Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, the report that introduced the medical world to what would become known as AIDS.
Reed entered the Castro gay urban subculture as post-Stonewall gay liberation zeal gave way to the sobering realities of the AIDS epidemic. The sense of this change is reflected in his somewhat autobiographical novel Longing (1988), which narrates its protagonist's similar move to San Francisco. The specter of the epidemic looms within the novel and, indeed, permeates all of Reed's writing. This consciousness is a direct result of Reed's life experiences, for in addition to writing during the emergence of the HIV virus, Reed also survived the transformation of AIDS from an acute to a chronic condition.
Reed claims in The Redwood Diary: A Journal (1995) to have known he had AIDS at least as early as 1981. Reed's understanding may well be retrospective, however, since AIDS was not named until midyear 1982; nonetheless, Reed HIV-seroconverted during the early years of the epidemic.
Surviving until 2002, Reed lived to witness and benefit from progressive advances in antiretroviral therapies. More specifically, when Reed's T-cell count dropped to 120 in late 1987, he benefited from the Federal Drug Administration's approval of AZT, the reverse transcriptase inhibitor he credited for his recovery. Similarly, when Reed's viral load (the amount of HIV in the bloodstream) rose to an incredible 1.1 million in early 1996, his health was restored through the use of Saquinavir, the first protease inhibitor to receive FDA approval in 1995.
In addition to being a person living with AIDS, Reed participated in experimental HIV treatments, such as the Compound Q trials, which he recorded in his diary The Q Journal (1991).
Reed also experienced the waves of AIDS bereavement common to the early years of the pandemic, having lost his lover Tom in 1990 and several acquaintances, peers, and friends--notably his intimate long-term friend Cap in 1996. This personal history and epidemiological context informs all of Reed's writings, as they document the changes and challenges facing a writer living with AIDS.
Reed himself succumbed to complications of AIDS on January 28, 2002.
As a child and adolescent, Reed studied the organ and harpsichord, and as an adult, he obtained a B. A. in Sociology from California State University, Chico in 1978 and an M. A. in Social Anthropology from the University of California at Davis in 1981.
Reed attended his first gay pride parade in San Francisco in 1980, and moved to the city in July 1981. He remained in the Bay area for the remainder of his life.
Reed's move to San Francisco occurred one month after the Centers for Disease Control published "Pneumocystis Pneumonia: Los Angeles" in Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, the report that introduced the medical world to what would become known as AIDS.
Reed entered the Castro gay urban subculture as post-Stonewall gay liberation zeal gave way to the sobering realities of the AIDS epidemic. The sense of this change is reflected in his somewhat autobiographical novel Longing (1988), which narrates its protagonist's similar move to San Francisco. The specter of the epidemic looms within the novel and, indeed, permeates all of Reed's writing. This consciousness is a direct result of Reed's life experiences, for in addition to writing during the emergence of the HIV virus, Reed also survived the transformation of AIDS from an acute to a chronic condition.
Reed claims in The Redwood Diary: A Journal (1995) to have known he had AIDS at least as early as 1981. Reed's understanding may well be retrospective, however, since AIDS was not named until midyear 1982; nonetheless, Reed HIV-seroconverted during the early years of the epidemic.
Surviving until 2002, Reed lived to witness and benefit from progressive advances in antiretroviral therapies. More specifically, when Reed's T-cell count dropped to 120 in late 1987, he benefited from the Federal Drug Administration's approval of AZT, the reverse transcriptase inhibitor he credited for his recovery. Similarly, when Reed's viral load (the amount of HIV in the bloodstream) rose to an incredible 1.1 million in early 1996, his health was restored through the use of Saquinavir, the first protease inhibitor to receive FDA approval in 1995.
In addition to being a person living with AIDS, Reed participated in experimental HIV treatments, such as the Compound Q trials, which he recorded in his diary The Q Journal (1991).
Reed also experienced the waves of AIDS bereavement common to the early years of the pandemic, having lost his lover Tom in 1990 and several acquaintances, peers, and friends--notably his intimate long-term friend Cap in 1996. This personal history and epidemiological context informs all of Reed's writings, as they document the changes and challenges facing a writer living with AIDS.
Reed himself succumbed to complications of AIDS on January 28, 2002.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
April 6, 2025
“I’VE LOST MOST OF THE WITNESSES TO MY LIFE”
Vertical Intercourse is a heartbreaking and inspiring story of gay men approaching middle age as they deal with the overwhelming suffering and losses caused by the AIDS epidemic. Paul Reed knew what he was writing about. He was lost to AIDS in 2002 at the age of 45. This novel should be much more widely known. It should be brought back into print.
The narrator in Paul Reed’s Vertical Intercourse immediately pulls the reader into his story by giving a marvelous description of the weather in San Francisco: “It is almost always cold in San Francisco, especially in the summer, when the dry heat of California’s Great Central Valley sucks the moisture off the Pacific Ocean, off San Francisco Bay, as if dying of thirst. The result of this ecology is that thick, roiling fog rushes towards the California Delta and obscures everything in its path—that everything includes San Francisco.”
The weather is a prominent character in Vertical Intercourse. The narrator usually sets the stage for the events of a particular chapter by giving a detailed description of the weather. The narrator’s descriptions of the weather, often intense, reflect the narrator’s interior state and what is going on in his life and the lives of his friends.
After describing the weather in the first paragraph of the novel, the narrator, who remains unnamed, tells the reader that he is in a coffee shop on Church Street killing time before seeing his new therapist. He observes that he is “going to be forty next year.” During the narrator’s first session with Dr. Emily Kiljoy, she mentions “this time of epidemic.” The narrator implies that his HIV status is positive and says, “No one I know now is the original group I met when I moved here in 1980. That’s one of the things that’s bothering me, that I’ve lost all the witnesses . . . well, most of the witnesses to my life.”
Entire chapters in Vertical Intercourse are devoted to the narrator’s therapy sessions with Dr. Kiljoy. They are like transcripts that contain lively, insightful conversations that can be humorous at times. He relates in detail what they say to each other. He closely observes her and tries to anticipate what she will say or ask next. Their battle of wits keeps him on his toes. He has met his match. He tells the reader: “Her bearing is regal, her voice firm and steady, yet soothing. Had I any heterosexual tendencies (as I must somewhere within me), I might well develop an obsession with her.” He always describes what Dr. Kiljoy is wearing.
Paul Reed gives us two beach scenes with the narrator and Anson, his new boyfriend, that are beautifully written set pieces. In these scenes, we see the ripening development of their relationship.
Vertical Intercourse contains many popular culture references that enrich the narrative. The narrator always tells us what music he has on his CD player. For example: “I am relaxing, catching a few moments of absolutely nothing, listening to Enya.” And, “The Marc Almond CD finishes, and I put on the Butthole Surfers, a real change of pace.” At one point, Anson observes: “Can you imagine that we came to adulthood in the era of Dynasty and Dallas?” When the narrator tells Anson, “’I feel like Louise Lasser in Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, my world imploding,’ Anson says, ‘Then I must be Mary Kay Place.’”
I won’t give away any spoilers, but the conclusion to Vertical Intercourse is perfect.
Vertical Intercourse is a heartbreaking and inspiring story of gay men approaching middle age as they deal with the overwhelming suffering and losses caused by the AIDS epidemic. Paul Reed knew what he was writing about. He was lost to AIDS in 2002 at the age of 45. This novel should be much more widely known. It should be brought back into print.
The narrator in Paul Reed’s Vertical Intercourse immediately pulls the reader into his story by giving a marvelous description of the weather in San Francisco: “It is almost always cold in San Francisco, especially in the summer, when the dry heat of California’s Great Central Valley sucks the moisture off the Pacific Ocean, off San Francisco Bay, as if dying of thirst. The result of this ecology is that thick, roiling fog rushes towards the California Delta and obscures everything in its path—that everything includes San Francisco.”
The weather is a prominent character in Vertical Intercourse. The narrator usually sets the stage for the events of a particular chapter by giving a detailed description of the weather. The narrator’s descriptions of the weather, often intense, reflect the narrator’s interior state and what is going on in his life and the lives of his friends.
After describing the weather in the first paragraph of the novel, the narrator, who remains unnamed, tells the reader that he is in a coffee shop on Church Street killing time before seeing his new therapist. He observes that he is “going to be forty next year.” During the narrator’s first session with Dr. Emily Kiljoy, she mentions “this time of epidemic.” The narrator implies that his HIV status is positive and says, “No one I know now is the original group I met when I moved here in 1980. That’s one of the things that’s bothering me, that I’ve lost all the witnesses . . . well, most of the witnesses to my life.”
Entire chapters in Vertical Intercourse are devoted to the narrator’s therapy sessions with Dr. Kiljoy. They are like transcripts that contain lively, insightful conversations that can be humorous at times. He relates in detail what they say to each other. He closely observes her and tries to anticipate what she will say or ask next. Their battle of wits keeps him on his toes. He has met his match. He tells the reader: “Her bearing is regal, her voice firm and steady, yet soothing. Had I any heterosexual tendencies (as I must somewhere within me), I might well develop an obsession with her.” He always describes what Dr. Kiljoy is wearing.
Paul Reed gives us two beach scenes with the narrator and Anson, his new boyfriend, that are beautifully written set pieces. In these scenes, we see the ripening development of their relationship.
Vertical Intercourse contains many popular culture references that enrich the narrative. The narrator always tells us what music he has on his CD player. For example: “I am relaxing, catching a few moments of absolutely nothing, listening to Enya.” And, “The Marc Almond CD finishes, and I put on the Butthole Surfers, a real change of pace.” At one point, Anson observes: “Can you imagine that we came to adulthood in the era of Dynasty and Dallas?” When the narrator tells Anson, “’I feel like Louise Lasser in Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, my world imploding,’ Anson says, ‘Then I must be Mary Kay Place.’”
I won’t give away any spoilers, but the conclusion to Vertical Intercourse is perfect.
July 10, 2011
Written about two years before the author's death from AIDS, this novel is packed full of his own history, experiences, and advice to his survivors. As such, it commands respect, but at times it is pedantic and judgmental, especially towards the city life of San Francisco. I was quite distracted by his criticism of the homeless.
The lyrical descriptions of the varied weather, moods, and locales of the city are the best parts of the book, followed by his sane and reasonable opinions on gay relationships and how the moral strictures of heteros do not, and should not, apply.
The lyrical descriptions of the varied weather, moods, and locales of the city are the best parts of the book, followed by his sane and reasonable opinions on gay relationships and how the moral strictures of heteros do not, and should not, apply.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews