3.5 stars
I liked this queer history of Fire Island — a vacation resort just off the coast of New York's Long Island that's famously 'for the gays' — a lot more than I expected to. Chronicling the history and development of this supposed queer 'paradise' with inflections from literary history, personal memoir, and the broader movement for gay liberation in 20th century America, Parlett here weaves together a rich, multifaceted "case study of utopian imperfections" that memorialises this strip of sand (previously likened to a parenthesis by author Andrew Holleran) while also acknowledging and critically examining its many flaws, including the fact of its orientation primarily towards affluent, white, cisgender gay men.
Much has been said about the legendary parties hosted in this oft mythologised enclave, and the singular role it has played by creating space for gay hedonism, reinvention, and liberation over the course of the last hundred years, and there is doubtlessly always more where those narratives come from. What I found uniquely rewarding about this book was that it is written in the spirit of genuine historical inquiry: Parlett here looks at the material conditions that led to this originally 'family-friendly' destination becoming a place that "theater people" and 'deviant' queers would flock to, the transience of various establishments and quasi-institutions within the space, the tensions between the two primary communities within (the more inclusive and uninhibited Cherry Grove versus the more developed and wealthy section that is The Pines, and the fact that you needed time, money, and resources — including a very particular form of social capital — to get there, let alone to belong. Fire Island does make the reader feel a certain sense of jealousy about having missed the party, but it is also equally incisive about aspects of the social scene that were buried beneath that more romantic view of it: the rampant drug abuse, the body fascism, the seemingly feudal hierarchy between owners, renters, and day-trippers, the racial and misogynistic prejudice that made more than just a subset of queer folks feel unwelcome, and the political ambivalence in the face of Stonewall (which directly benefited the islanders) and the onset of the AIDS crisis (which ravaged many amongst them).
Further, the historical narrative of Fire Island is moved along through the lives of the writers and artists who lived, worked, and vacationed here, so that there is more than just a handful of gossip-worthy anecdotes to be found about prominent members of the literati: from Walt Whitman, who was one of the place's early proponents, to Oscar Wilde, who may or may not have made it there; from Carson McCullers and Patricia Highsmith, the latter of whom had epic brawls with people around her, to the island's champion poet Frank O'Hara, who died there; from Edward Albee, who wrote on the island out of enjoyment, to James Baldwin, who wrote but found no respite in its community; and from Andrew Holleran, who saw the place through rose-tinted glasses, to Larry Kramer, who denounced it as morally vacuous. Aside from these regulars, the island was at least one-time host to figures like Marilyn Monroe, Patti Smith, David Wojnarowicz, Andy Warhol, and many others, and their appearances too enliven something in the book's cultural narrative.
My one critique of the book is that in his attempt to streamline the narrative through literary and artistic appearances, the author often fails to show how island communities transitioned: we are told that Native Americans once lived on the land, but not much further about what happened (though we can all probably guess). We learn that there was an influx of a substantial lesbian community after a certain point in the 70s, but they are not really spoken about further in the text. We know that black, brown, trans, and gender non-conforming people sometimes made their way to the island, and that the experienced hostility, but more substantial accounts or inquiries into what drew them there were largely missing or left up to assumption.
Still, given that the island was, and even today remains, a domain mostly at the disposal of rich white gays (with 'Fire Island gays' becoming a popular epithet), it makes sense that these are the people we encounter most often within these pages. It also makes sense in context of Parlett writing about grappling with his own sexuality as a gay man (I did find those first-person reflections on the author's experiences, whether in London, New York proper, or on the island, rather illuminating of the ways in which both community and the lack thereof can be alienating, and liked that the author was aware and admitting of the fact that his alienation was tempered to a great extent by his whiteness).
Overall, this was a fascinating book with lots to offer: I came away with having learned a lot about the topic at hand, plus a varied reading list of queer art and literature from the 20th century that I wouldn't have known about otherwise. Fire Island, to me, definitely seems like a valuable addition to the body of work dealing with American cultural history — or, at the very least, a vacation resort view of it — and I would recommend diving in if you're inclined to learn more.