Nights In Aruba

by Andrew Holleran

With the publication of Dancer from the Dance, one of the most critically acclaimed gay novels since Stonewall, Andrew Holleran reached the forefront of the American literacy scene and gained international fame. His eagerly anticipated second novel, Nights in Aruba, confirms Holleran's place as one of America's most exciting writers. At the center of this groundbreaking novel is Paul, an uneasy commuter between two parallel lives: one as the dutiful son of aging, upper-middle-class parents, the other as a gay man plunged deliriously into the world of bars, baths, and one-night stands. Told with wry humour and subtle lyricism, Holleran's classic novel of love shared and love concealed is the stuff of tragedy, of comedy - in fact, of life itself.

Genres: Fiction, Gay, LGBT, Gay Fiction, Queer, Book Club, Family

240 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1983

About the author

Born in 1943. Andrew Holleran is the pseudonym of Eric Garber, a novelist, essayist, and short story writer. He is a prominent novelist of post-Stonewall gay literature. He was a member of The Violet Quill, a gay writer's group that met briefly from 1980-81.

Reviews

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5, rounded up.

Rereading this right after a reread of Holleran's debut novel, Dancer from the Dance. proved a bit dispiriting, since I found his first book infinitely more interesting. From what I can glean from the author's Wiki page, as well as from the books themselves, it appears both fall under the broad rubric of auto-fiction and are clearly semi-autobiographical. But whereas the bulk of Dancer takes place in the glittering hedonistic demi-monde of 70's NYC, this book broadens the canvas - but lessens the impact.

The first 50-page chapter flatly lays out the protagonist's childhood in the titular Aruba, and while necessary to understand what comes after - is rather a dull pastoral. The following chapter is a bit livelier, exploring his years in the Army in Germany, where he first discovers his sexual orientation - but things really don't gain any momentum till Chapter 3 returns us to that NYC gay scene.

From there, however, the hero moves back and forth between his sexual exploits in the metropolis, and his family encounters in the small backwater burg of Jaspar, Florida. While these family scenes comprise the bulk of the novel, they are really of very little interest. Holleran's prose is terrific, as always, but the book just kind of plods along. When the specter of AIDS rears its ugly head in the final few pages, it also makes for a rather downbeat ending.

Oddly enough, we only learn the protagonist's name - Paul - during these same final pages. As one of the old 'queens' whose letters bookend the first novel is also, we learn in the final sentence, named Paul, who also lives in the Deep South, I am curious as to whether these are indeed the same character, and this second novel is intended as a direct sequel to the first.

[George Ilsley · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this before, back in the mid-80s, and like everyone else was disappointed that it was not another Dancer from the Dance — which had caused a sensation. This novel is described by the publisher as "maturer" and perhaps it is that. Certainly this reader had to become "maturer" in order to appreciate it more.

This novel focuses less on partying and more on families (estranged and otherwise), aging, elder care, and the concerns of someone who is no longer young, and has become —if not jaded— perhaps a little disillusioned.

And isn't losing those illusions a good thing?

I was quite taken by the quiet power of this novel this time around, swept away by the sentences and the sentiments, nodding with recognition. I identified with most of the characters, and their situations, and that is why I'm giving it all the stars.

Reading this novel also enabled me to spend some time with my younger, impatient self, one who didn't have the experience to see the depths in this world, and who didn't realize how little time there was to waste.

[Tyson Bears · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 rounded up... solely for the meandering narration and general lack of plot. this book rocked me to my core.

not to be serious on main:

I think what I found most shocking with this book is how little progress we appear to have made as gay men to actually achieve the things that we crave so so deeply, in our hearts of hearts - real connection, dedication, being chosen, being in capital L Love. my dear friend KC (gay guy) claimed that this inability to just settle down and find your person comes from a place of deeply-rooted shame and humiliation, and a profound disbelief that love will ever find you and that maybe that's the way it should be. now I mostly agree with him, but I certainly did not agree before reading this book. the consequence of this inability leads to the ""gay lifestyle"": short bursts of euphoria and pleasure through beautiful sex with gorgeous people, and wonderful parties, moments when we feel so alive while dancing and holding each other. but this life is a life lacking in wholeness, and it's on borrowed time. god this book is profoundly lonely.

this book also explores the unintentional ostracizing of gay men from their families, no matter the family's position on homosexuality. so much of the plot follows the protag's guilt regarding not being in his family's life as much as he thinks should be because he loves his mother deeply (gay guys be like), but also the intense sense of bewilderment he gets whenever he visits because he is just not a part of that world. it goes beyond feeling uncomfortable around his family, but it's as if he was from a different planet trying to relate to new and unfamiliar surroundings that are at the same time entirely nostalgic.

ultimately, I think that part of the loneliness that gay guys feel comes from having no real frame of reference for how to live this sort of life. I know that there are lots of people who live their lives in wildly different ways than their families - gay or not, and that not everyone has a rough go of it. even I know gay couples my age with a condo and a dog, who seem to be chuffing along just fine. however, the shame that is taught to gay men from birth COUPLED with the complete independence of an uncharted lifestyle make for a very isolating experience for a lot of people, myself included (sometimes).

I certainly felt seen a bit in parts of this book. it's hard not to - so many of my friends at some point or another have griped about their apparent inability to connect with potential life partners, or complain that they feel a lack of real connection beyond sex (what is it all FOR!). im in a phase where im trying my hardest to enjoy life and enjoy my friends and being single, but there will come a time again when I want to be in a relationship. will it be hard for me then?

sorry to be such a debbie downer. im having Thoughts . I'll be fine but wow this book was so crazy. I kind of never want to look at it again but also I need all of my gay friends to read it... like yesterday. maybe we can learn from our gay forebears.

"for I realized that so much memory and desire swirl about in the hearts of men on this planet that, just as we can look at Neptune and say it is covered with liquid nitrogen, or Venus and see a mantle of hydrochloric acid, so it seemed to me that were one to look at earth from afar one would say it is covered completely in ignorance."

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

Andrew Holleran is one of my favorite writers, and when I saw this on Tom's bookshelves and realized I had not read it, I was thrilled: It was like a new novel by a favorite author had come out, even though this was published in 1983 (when I was 25).

I am happy to report that it is wonderful, as expected. However, I must also admit that I began to tire toward the end, and my rating might well have fallen short of my usual enthusiastic 5 stars, except that the very end erased any sense of weariness and made the book feel perfect to me. If gay male novels of the 1980s are not your thing (in which case you are missing out, but that's none of my business), perhaps you won't feel compelled to read the book, so I'm going to quote the final sentence here. It's not really a spoiler (read the last paragraph if you want to get the drift of the whole thing, though even that might not count as a spoiler, the work is so full of character and detail and insight). Anyway, for the full effect, I'd give you the last half of the final paragraph, it's so well done. Instead, just because it spoke to me across the years, here is the last sentence:

"For I realized that so much memory and desire swirl about in the hearts of men on this planet that, just as we can look at Neptune and say it is covered with liquid nitrogen, or Venus and see a mantle of hydrochloric acid, so it seemed to me that were one to look at Earth from afar one would say it is covered completely in Ignorance."

[Erik · Rating 4 out of 5]

Because of the ravaging effects the AIDS crisis had on the cultural contributions of and in the gay community, so few books exist that accurately and emotionally portray the complexities of aging while queer. Holleran's early aughts reflection on aging, queerness, and family - "Nights in Aruba" - provides a much needs and complicated portrayal of all of these.

Told from the perspective of a gay man who grows up in Aruba, moves with his family to the Florida panhandle, and then, as he begins to understand - and accept - his own sexuality, moves to New York City, this book tracks the emotional journey as this man grows to understand the complications that exist between a gay man who can't discuss his sexuality with his family and his family. What makes the story so rich, though, is the broad take it has on the lifespan in general - speaking to how these complications don't disappear but only become more complicated as our parents age and geographical distances between gay spaces and our hometowns make us more aware of these tensions.

Unfortunately, in a typical Holleran style, he spends too much time taking a condescending tone and providing problematic commentary on gay male sexuality. This seems to be Holleran's tripwire in every book he writes and if he could only get himself away from the incessant demand to shame gay men for their robust sexual lives, his other social commentaries - on aging, family, and AIDs - would stand out as so much richer.

Nonetheless, Holleran's book stands out as a remarkable reflection on a topic too infrequently discussed: how to age, love, and be loved as a gay man.

[Ije the Devourer of Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

New York magazine describes this book as 'a very lively and deeply serious revelation of the homosexual world.' It was first published in 1983 so maybe it was a revelation at the time but I found it rambled a bit and I don't think it said much about the homosexual world at all. I could be wrong since I am reading this many years later.

To me this is a story about a gay man coming to terms with his ageing parents and his own middle age. He also reflects on the way he has compartmentalised his life because he hides his sexuality from his parents. He comes to terms with the changes in his life by looking at the changes in his parents, remembering his life as a child in Aruba and reflecting on the differences between his life in New York, and his visits to Jasper, a small town in Florida where his parents have retired to.

The story had quite a rambling style to it and the writing did not hold my attention. I persevered because I wanted to finish the story.

Paul the narrator reflects on his life through the spectrum of his relationship with his parents. From his childhood in Aruba, through school, college and service in the army, he recalls how his relationship with his parents has shaped who he now is in middle age and in reflecting this way he comes to terms with middle age.

It took me some time to get into the rhythm of this story. It is actually like a fictional memoir but it wasn't until I was half way through that I began to understand what the narrator was sharing. The narrator is looking over his life and the way he experienced family, both family with his nuclear family and then the family of friends. He sees and experiences these as two very separate worlds because of his sexuality. He hasn't been able to share the aspects of his life with his nuclear family and it results in him having two separate lives - one which his parents know about and one which they don't. In some ways what he is doing is trying to reconcile his adulthood with his childhood, and in other ways it is purely about his sexuality and how this shapes his life in ways that he feels his parents could never understand. At the same time he compares his life to his friends, some of whom have closer relationships with their families and are out to them, others have closer relationships to their families and are not out.

I enjoyed this story because it resonated with me and in some respects would do for anyone regardless of the sexuality or gender. The characters in the story are just so fascinating and well crafted and as a reader I was drawn into the different settings - Aruba with all it's heat and shimmery haze, sea and sand; New York with its cold and traffic and haste, and then small town America with its slow pace and ordinary every day life.

Middle age is that time of life when we are truly our own or at least we should be. Parental influences may still be there of course but in many cases are one step removed from the realities of life as we manage careers, families, lives of our own. But whether for good or for ill much of what has gone before has influenced who we are and the paths we take.

I enjoyed reading this because as a child you are subject to the choices and peculiarities of your parents. In this story Paul recalls his lonely childhood in Aruba with a father who he felt distanced from and a mother who was demanding in her own way but also lonely and bored. Life in a colony with other families but few friends, life with religion but little resilience and with a mother who was sometimes petulant, some times suspicious and all the time unfulfilled and bored.

As with many others brought up in two cultures this duality enables Paul to create two lives for himself as an adult. One as a dutiful and responsible son who visits his parents in Florida and one as a single gay man who throws himself into the noisy, bustling and sexual free life of New York.

The end of the story is kind of left open and ends suddenly, leaving me wondering what happened.

So all in all it was an interesting story which I eventually understood, but quite rambling in places with an abrupt ending.

[Colby 🪩 · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has moved me like no book ever has. It is heart wrenching and comes closer to answering my existential questions than anything ever has. A religious experience 10/10.

[Cameron Mitchell · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book has some wonderfully descriptive passages and is clearly written well, but it felt more like an obligation to finish than something I truly enjoyed. At just 240 pages, this book felt immensely longer - and far too dull. The plot sort of meanders all over the place, and I didn't find the story itself terribly compelling. The main character, a middle-aged gay man, is reflecting on his life from a childhood in Aruba, to his time in the military, to his move to New York. His adult life revolves around two distinct worlds: his life in New York that promises all the freedom he cares to take advantage of, and his time spent in a rural Florida town where his aging parents have retired. He never seems able to really find his own place and identity separate from that of his mother, and by the closing pages, I'm not sure he's learned anything.

[Macartney · Rating 4 out of 5]

Skip the dreary, meandering, over-long first chapter, and it's a marvelous novel of the malaise of a mid-thirties homosexual living in New York City and wondering what It's all about.

[Olivia · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful treat to read. Last chapter was full of so many beautiful lines

[James Henry · Rating 1 out of 5]

The psychoanalytical stream-of-consciousness babble of the world’s most boring gay man. Nearly 250 pages blathering on and on about his mommy issues and middle-aged regret. Not to be facetious, but did this man not have a hobby, a job, or something interesting to focus his attention on? Honestly, I might have preferred the tedium of endless, anonymous sex over what we got here.

[Kevin · Rating 2 out of 5]

I once called Holleran's Dancer from the Dance my "book soul-mate," and I still feel that way. I've since read three other books of his (including this) and his story collection, In September, the Light Changes. I used to appreciate his care with description and his lack of concern with fast-paced plotting, but it's starting to seem to me that a lack of concern with plotting is also an inability to successfully tie his material into the novel form. Dancer... doesn't suffer from this, but his other novels do. The worst offender was The Beauty of Men, which apart from an incredible bathhouse scene near the end leaves much to be desired. This book is slightly less meandering, though manages to be less satisfying. It's hard to know what to latch onto or pay attention to. What are the stakes? What are the concerns? For almost the first half of the book to pay attention was quite an ordeal. Except for three or four scenes, the book reads like a psychoanalysis session - getting it all on the table in the hopes that it will add up to something meaningful upon reflection. As always, Holleran is largely successful in making the fictional seem autobiographical (given the overlap in some of his stories, he's almost certainly doing just that). There's one reference towards the end that reminded me of one of Moby Dick's payoffs, about the manic search for purpose and meaning in a world which may have neither, though it was done far less artfully here. I read that passage in this book as an attempt to excuse a lot of the book's shortcomings. I'm still a fan of Holleran's short stories, as well as Dancer..., and I intend to read some of his Christopher Street AIDS essays, but the frustrations have gotten the better of me when it comes to his post-Dancer novels.

[Mel Bossa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very honest and beautifully written. I wonder if he named Paul as a tribute to Paul from Sons and Lovers, because in many ways, I thought the character's relationship with his mother was very inspired by Lawrence's novel. I especially loved the vivid descriptions of the landscape of New York and Aruba, and later, Jasper, and the cast of secondary characters, Mister Friel being my favorite. Look, there's a heavy melancholic feel to this book. The main character is living a double life, trying to reconcile both worlds but failing miserably at it because he doesn't want to disappoint his mother, and in the end, you realize maybe that it's not about disappointment, but about wanting to keep peace and the idea of ''home'' intact. I can relate to this.

Holleran does a great job at rendering the ''milieu'' in New York during the seventies and very early eighties, but this book doesn't focus solely on the dating and mating scene, but more on relationships and friendships. I think up until the last quarter of the book, I was not quite sold, but that last episode of Paul experiencing a fresh and secret love affair with Sal, and the way Holleran so amazingly describes the first stages of falling in love, really elevated this book from a mere good three stars to a sold four stars.

Lastly, the final paragraphs really stay with you and maybe it's because I lost my mother when I was young, I was deeply moved by those last pages. All we have is our memories and sometimes memories are lies, but those lies are ours and we should be allowed to believe them as much as we please...

[Patrick · Rating 2 out of 5]

This novel is a a chore to engage with from the very beginning. The plotting is poor; much time, attention and detail are given to describing small scenes and side characters who contribute little to the larger narrative while large spans of time and what feel like major plot points are glossed through in a mater of a couple of lines.

Holleran here tells and does not show the reader anything when it comes to his character’s behaviors and thought processes; there are some interesting ideas here like an alcoholic and disconnected parent or the monotony and loneliness of adult gay life. They are however not interrogated in a way that actually achieves much but instead simply stated straightforwardly. Not the authors best.

[Evan Thomas · Rating 1 out of 5]

While completely lacking a plot, or narrative arc, the book is a collection of vingettes and scenes where many of the characters the narrator meets are more interesting than he is. The novel ends it seems simply out the author's exhaustion, having traveled thousands of miles and taken us nowhere, which nicely coincides with the terminal boredom of the reader.

[Klaus Mattes · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aruba (holländische Karibikinsel), Heidelberg, New York, Jasper (Florida), in etwa zwischen den Jahren 1952 und 1982. Genre: Splitter aus dem Leben eines schwulen, sexuell promisken, allein lebenden, seinem Elternhaus weiterhin verbundenen Mannes zwischen dessen zehntem und vierzigstem Jahr.

Wenn es die deutschsprachigen Länder je zu einem Verlag gebracht hätten, der es auf eine Art Bibliothek bleibender schwuler (oder meinetwegen bi-lesbisch-schwuler) Literatur angelegt gehabt hätte, es müsste kein schwuler Verlag, dieser Zweig müsste nicht der einzige Inhalt sein, wie auch die Polnische oder Jüdische Bibliothek nicht der Daseinszweck von Suhrkamp jemals waren, dann müsste dieses Buch schon 40 Jahre lang dort drin sein. Müsste seit 40 Jahren in jeder Buchhandlung lieferbar sein und immer noch regelmäßig gelesen und als Referenzgröße nachwachsender schwuler Autoren in vielen Medien genannt werden. Das ist nicht so. Und genau dieses bezeichnet den Stand schwulen Schreibens und Publizierens in diesem Sprachraum deutlich.

Ich zögere, das Buch einen Roman zu nennen – und musste bei erneuter Nachschau merken, dass dieses Wort, „Roman“, nirgendwo steht, nicht auf dem Titel, nicht im Klappentext, nicht auf dem Vorsatzblatt. Man würde es lieber „Memoiren“ nennen, mit nicht unbedingt nachvollziehbarem Zusammenhang der Szenen aus dem Leben ihres Autors. Dem steht entgegen, dass, laut Klappentext, der familiennamenlose Ich-Erzähler Paul heißt und nicht Andrew. Der Eindruck literarischer Überformung stellt sich hier häufig ein.

Wie sein Autor ist der Erzähler auf der karibischen Insel Aruba aufgewachsen, weil sein Vater, ein Betriebswirtschaftler, für eine US-Firma dorthin versetzt worden war. Es war zwar ständig windig und ziemlich trocken und viele Freunde scheint er nicht gefunden zu haben, aber immerhin hatte man sein eigenes Haus in einer schönen Gegend und konnte sich eine Hauswirtschafterin leisten, sodass die Mutter vor allem schön sein, zum Cocktail einladen und zur Messe gehen konnte. Die aus Deutschland stammende Familie ist katholisch. Der Kindheit wird mit einer farbenreichen, poetischen Sprache und mit viel zärtlicher Nostalgie gedacht, wahrscheinlich an Nabokov-Büchern orientiert. Diese Kindheit ist asexuell. Dann ein Schnitt und wir sind in New York - und schwul.

Wenn uns der Erzähler auch glaubhaft versichert, dass er bis zum vierzigsten Geburtstag nie richtig verliebt war, so wollen wir nicht ganz glauben, dass die zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Erwachsenwerden und späten Coming-out (er hatte es mit gut über 20 als Soldat in Heidelberg) vor allem mit schwulen Saunen, Stränden, Clubs, Parks und natürlich auch noch ein paar Essenseinkäufen mitten in der Nacht vergingen. Man muss sagen, Andrew Holleran ist sehr geschickt darin, einen Überblick über sein Leben zu schreiben und den Leser nachhaltig darüber hinwegzutäuschen, dass er praktisch nichts über seine Arbeit, seinen Brotberuf, seine wirtschaftliche Situation verrät. Es heißt schon mal, er habe studiert, allerdings nicht, was. Dann kommt auch noch ein komisches Zwischenspiel, wenn er mit einer Clique aus lauter nutzlosen Geisteswissenschaftlern den kleinbürgerlichen Hausbesitzern drüben in New Jersey die „Anschaffung fürs Leben“ andreht, von Haustür zu Haustür, als Vertreter für ein vielbändiges Konversationslexikon, dass im Abonnements vertrieben wird. Die Gastfreundschaft und Arglosigkeit der brav arbeitenden Menschen beschämt ihn, der weiß, dass er sie gerade übern Tisch zieht. Dann irgendwann sehen wir ihn als Lektor für eine Anwaltssozietät. Man fragt sich, wozu brauchen Juristen einen Literaturmenschen. Aber Holleran hatte ja wohl Jura studiert; wie gesagt, er schreibt das nicht ins Buch.

Ganz so geschmeidig, wie dieser elegante Erzähler von einem Jahrzehnt ins nächste, von einem Kontinent zum anderen gleitet, kann es im Leben nicht gegangen sein. Die offenbar um etliche Jahre ältere Schwester war in den fünfziger Jahren schnell weg von Aruba, zurück in den Staaten, verheiratet. Damit konnte der Mama-Junge voll und ganz im Ministrantendienst für die einigermaßen blasierte und realitätsferne Mutter aufgehen, scheint aber die ihn dafür natürlich auch qualifizierende Homosexualität nicht mal geahnt zu haben.

Erst nach dem Studium kommt er zum Militär und nach Deutschland; es sind jetzt die sechziger Jahre. Und dort wartet ein Nest voller Glucken und Schwestern auf ihn, der Club der uniformierten Tunten der Heidelberger Mannschaftskantine. Er sieht wohl nicht schlecht aus und hat Umgangsformen. Sogleich ist er von lebenslustigen Freunden umgeben und wird ins schwule Nachtleben eingeführt, bevor er protestieren kann. Wie der Zufall so spielt, ist auch der Sohn einer Freundin seiner Mutter, die Eltern haben sich in inzwischen in der Kleinstadt Jasper in Florida zur Ruhe gesetzt, in dieser Kaserne in Deutschland, dessen Mutter sich noch immer grämt, dass er keine Verlobte gefunden hat. Nach Heidelberg kommt New York und mehr oder weniger die gesamte Heidelberger Gang scheint in Brooklyn untergekommen zu sein. Für ein paar Jahre wohnen sie sogar noch im selben Haus in Manhattan. Der Erzähler begegnet immer wieder Bekannten, wenn er in die Sauna geht. Dort kann er zusehen, wie gute Jungs Dinge tun, vor denen es Frauen, Mütter und heterosexuelle Amerikaner nur grausen würde. Allerdings passt Holleran gut auf, dass sein Paul dort nur Zuschauer ist. Er habe sich, heißt es, ängstlich wie er war, nicht getraut; die Angst vor gefährlichen Krankheiten war zu groß.

Wir dürften nun einen Zeitraum erreicht haben, in dem man von Aids noch nichts wusste, die ersten Geschichten von Andrew Holleran aber im „New Yorker“ erschienen waren, er mit „Dancer from the Dance“ zum Heroen der neuen Gay Literature arriviert war, wahrscheinlich bald darauf die Lehraufträgen für Literarisches Schreiben ihm eine finanzielle Basis für sein informelles Dasein schafften. All das kommt im Buch nicht vor; es handelt von einem „Paul“. Manchmal geht der vergnügliche Flug durch glückliche Jahre so glatt, dass die Erinnerungen ineinander verschwimmen und der Autor die Fünfe gerade sein lässt. Dann muss man akzeptieren, dass die Heidelberger G.I.s in ein und demselben Jahr drei Hits mitsummen: „Memories of Heidelberg“, „Abbey Road“ und „He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother“.

Zum Ende hin gibt es, für meinen Geschmack, zu viel Jasper, Florida, – und das heißt schwule Einöde. Was noch anginge. Sein alter Heidelberger Kumpel, der immer noch unverheiratete Sohn der Freundin seiner Mutter, taucht wieder auf und geht mit ihm shoppen, schwimmen, wandern und ins Kino. Aber leider tritt vor allem die Mutter immer häufiger auf. Und ich weigerte mich, diesen Mutter-Kult eines Single-Schwulen und Einzelkindes (na ja, so gut wie, die Familie der Schwester ist nur zu Weihnachten fällig) als „meine Geschichte“ zu lesen. Zumal mir Hollerans Mutter, die zu diesem Zeitpunkt noch nicht Witwe war und noch nicht im Rollstuhl saß, nicht so einwandfrei als das Inbild einer süßen alten Dame und moralisch intergre Wegweiserin erschien, wie Holleran vielleicht gern gehabt hätte.

Ich dachte, die Frau, obwohl über Homosexualität nie ein Wort gesprochen wird, hat schon gut begriffen, wie sie den einsamen Sohn für ihre Zwecke einspannen kann. Einmal fährt er vor Weihnachten von New York weg zur Familienzusammenkunft in den Raum Washington, anschließend mit den Eltern ins Waldland von Florida - und bleibt dort bis in die letzten Tage des Augusts. Keine Sauna, keine Bars, kein schwuler Sex! Was er mit den Männern am Telefon zu besprechen hat, sagt er der Mutter genauso wenig wie uns, wer in New York derweil die Miete zahlte und wovon und wieso ihm niemand mitteilte, dass seine Wohnung aufgebrochen und durchsucht worden war, wie er es später dann erfahren muss. Der Punkt, den der Erzähler hier machen will: Obwohl er sich geschworen hatte, wenigstens den ersten Abend zu Hause auszuruhen und obwohl die Wohnung geknackt wurde, geht er schon in derselben Nacht zurück in die Sauna. Sein zweites Leben, von dem die Mutter nie was erfahren wird.

Bei Frauen, an denen ich kein erotisches Interesse habe, kann ich klarsehen, leidenschaftslos beobachten, einschätzen, einordnen. Aber bei Männern war ich völlig närrisch; wenn ein junger Mann, an dem ich erotisches Interesse hatte, dumm zu sein schien, sagte ich mir: „Er ist eben auf andere Weise intelligent. Vielleicht hat er keine Bücher gelesen, aber bestimmt hat er Menschenkenntnis.“ Hypnotisiert vom feinen, schwarzen Haar auf seinem wohlgestalteten Unterarm, von den hervortretenden Venen auf seiner Hand war ich so gefangen, daß ich nicht mehr den leisesten Versuch machte, objektiv zu sein.
Und so stand ich in manchen Nächten in New York, bei Regen wie bei schönem Wetter, auf der Straße östlich des Tompkin Parks und wartete darauf, daß ein Tanzlehrer sizilianischer Abstammung mir seine Schlüssel herunterwarf, als ob mir die Liebe den goldenen Apfel zuwerfe. Die Schlüssel blinkten in den Regentropfen und fielen vom Fenster eines fünften Stockes auf den Bürgersteig vor mir, und ich ging müde die Treppen hinauf, um die Person zu sehen, deren Schönheit mich aufs äußerste bezauberte - selbst wenn er sich nur außerhalb meiner Reichweite im Zimmer hin und her drehte und Tanzschritte mit einer Hingabe und Leidenschaft durchführte, die selbst mich verblüfften. Es gab keine Garantie, daß wir diese Nacht zusammen schlafen würden oder daß er sich nicht mitten im Sex aufsetzen und sagen würde: „Ich muß Star Trek anschauen.

Somit gibt es auf die lange Strecke doch zu viele Mutterbesuche und schwer nachvollziehbare Selbstbefragungen, ob all die schwulen Erlebnisse es wert seien, ein Familienleben, wie die Eltern es lebten, nie mehr zu bekommen. Mit seinem Erscheinungsjahr 1983 liegt das Buch knapp vor der gigantischen Umwälzung, die durch Aids über die Gay-Communitys von New York und San Francisco hereinbrach. Bereits hier wird nach Bleibendem sich gesehnt. Mit vierzig überfallen Paul (oder Andrew) Visionen des bevorstehenden Verlusts seiner Eltern, dem Jahre der Demenz und Pflegebedürftigkeit vorhergehen könnten. Von einer merkwürdigen Zunahme der Krebsfälle im New Yorker Bekanntenkreis ist auch die Rede.

Wo Andrew Holleran seinen Durchbruch fünf Jahre vorher mit dem Einblick in die schwule Nachtkultur von Manhattan geschafft hatte, „Dancer from the Dance“, in Deutschland und als Knaur Taschenbuch falsch übersetzt als „Tänzer der Nacht“ (heute noch im Buchhandel greifbar, „Nächte in Aruba“ aber nicht), scheint er sich auch 1983 noch auf der Höhe der Zeit befunden zu haben. In den kommenden Jahren werden amerikanische Schwule sich auf die Vorteile von dauerhaften Zweierbeziehungen und dem Leben in Familienverbänden zurückbesinnen.

[Douglas · Rating 4 out of 5]

3,5 stars, rounding up

Paul is living in ignorance. In ignorance of his past, his present and his future. He seeks to understand his relationship with his parents and so delves deep into his own memories of his childhood in Aruba to try and understand what binds them together. He leads a double life as a homosexual man in New York with all that it entails; baths, discos, love, sex, beauty, and as a closeted mysterious son of two aging and retired parents in Jasper, Florida. As time goes on the big city loses it's grip on Paul and he finds himself spending more and more time with his parents, aging with them into a new phase that holds little room for the things that have so far made up his life. He stays long periods in Jasper out of guilt for leaving his mother behind as well as his inability to switch between the two versions of himself as quickly as he once has. His deep dive into the past is not such a fierce weapon towards the ignorance of his life as he had hoped, but he still manages to reach new insights about himself and his parents.

Holleran's prose is beautiful and it was interesting to follow Paul along as the things he was once so hot for cools off and leaves him with indifference. His relationship with his parents and the memories they share was a fine portrait of what it can be like to age and lose the sense of what makes up the relationships in your life, and how confusing it can be to take on the ever renewing roles thrown your way as you age. The story did not manage to catch me fully, however, and it was at times a slow read. Hence the 3,5 stars.

[Hollo Vest · Rating 4 out of 5]

A gorgeous book that could never be written today. The novel explores the dynamic between the protagonist’s privilege (and the ultimate failure of that situation to yield sustainable peace) and the ways in which a marginalized gay man in the seventies had to split his identity in order to survive. It is for this reason, and the fact that the narrative is haunted by New York’s yet-to-break AIDS crisis, that the book feels distinctly historical. In a most telling demonstration of the nuances of identity, belonging, and community, protagonist Paul feels most himself in the liminal, transitory space that exists between NYC and Jasper, as he’s shuttling himself between friends and family, between queer urban excess and claustrophobic rural heteronormativity, between worlds.

[Nicholas George · Rating 3 out of 5]

The mostly nameless narrator of this stream-of-consicousness tale (we learn his name in the last few pages) is a young gay man navigating the changing tides of social consciousness in the 1970s, primarily in his hometown in Florida and in New York City. Holleran is a deft writer, but mostly this seemed aimless to me, which, I assume was the point. The narrator is adrift in a stream of marginal relationships that never bring him the sense of family he so craves. It is terribly depressing, which also, I think, is the point. Reading it now, from the perspective of progress we've made over the past fifty years, makes it seem like a valuable and yet sad time capsule.

[Margob99 · Rating 2 out of 5]

I can't help feeling this one doesn't match up to the powerful poignance of "Dancer from the Dance"; it slipped through my fingers, nothing to hold on to, except the validity of his expatriate existence, which is familiar to me, and glimpses of that were too elliptical. A maundering meander through that mournful time that came after his youth, I couldn't identify and it didn't resonate as much as his earlier book. A shame, but I won't give up on this author!

[Hunter Smith · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first 59 pages were a bit slow and i didn’t love the writing style. It gets a lot better after that. There were still some parts that felt slow/ unnecessary/ dragged on a bit. Overall I really enjoyed the books analysis of gay people’s relationships with their parents, its views on aging, and the way it talks about growing and learning. There is a bit of a lack of plot but the individual ideas presented are very interesting.

[Steven Albrecht · Rating 5 out of 5]

Holleran traces the growth of his protagonist from his not-so-closeted army days, to his sexual liberation in New York, and to the advent of the first wave of AIDS. Our hero's central conflict is between his desire to embrace life as a gay man and his feelings of obligation to family. It would be worth counting the number of times the word "mother" appears.

[J Susanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing experience for me. My pleasure in this book was very personal. It was a joy to discover that the author had, indeed, actually been to the island where I had grown up. Most people, then, 1984, had very little knowledge of the island... It was a joy to reconnect with my childhood friend and classmate whose account of our hometown was perfect.

[Chuck McGrady · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a sequel to Dancer from the Dance, and it takes Paul from his youth and early adulthood in the earlier book, to his middle age years as he is dealing with his life in gay New York while splitting time with his aging parent in Jasper, Florida. The author is a fine writer who can usually describe situations and places in a way that gives the reader a great that he or she has been there.

[William Conrad · Rating 1 out of 5]

Andrew Holleran is considered an icon in gay literature. But as far as I'm concerned, this book is nothing more than boring drivel about an American boy growing up in Aruba and then joining the military during the Vietnam War where he explores his burgeoning sexuality. This would be all very well if Holleran would make it interesting. BUT HE DOESN'T! Don't waste your time!

[K.D. McQuain · Rating 3 out of 5]

A novel dealing with one man's boredom with early 70s to early 80s gay life in New York City, his desire to find love, and inability to accept it when it becomes available. It was okay but there was far less information about the NYC of the time than I would have liked.

[Jonathan Weisman · Rating 5 out of 5]

A bit meandering but if you just go along for the ride that is Andrew Holleran's amusing and poignant writing it'll be a good read. Salient (for me at least) commentary on gay life, religion, and family.

[Scott · Rating 5 out of 5]

Almost unbearably poignant at times, this novels hits home the truth of being middle-aged, gay and single, especially in terms of sacrificing happiness and authenticity in order to avoid confrontation or judgement. How profoundly lonely peace can be.

[Jack · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you’re going to read this book, be prepared to get very depressed.

[Jonathan Goldman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hollersn is such a beautiful, unique writer. I highly recommend checking him out.