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Queer and Loathing: Rants and Raves of a Raging AIDS Clone
A collection of essays about AIDS activism and living with AIDS details the author's experiences in the 1988 ACT UP seizure of FDA headquarters, presents no-holds-barred descriptions of his symptoms, and offers his opinion about Larry Kramer. 15,000 first printing.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1994
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602 people want to read
About the author
David B. Feinberg
7 books13 followersDavid Feinberg was a novelist, essayist, and AIDS activist who also worked as a programmer and a linguist.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
June 13, 2024
“I’m sick and tired of all of this talk about innocent victims. I plead guilty. I’m guilty of crimes against nature. I have done truly abominable things according to Leviticus, Deuteronomy, and the collected works of Jackie Collins. I’m the Jew that poisoned the wells; I’m the pinko that passed the atomic spy plans to the Russkies; I’m the Toon that framed Roger Rabbit. I’m the one my own parents warned me against.”
At first, Feinberg manifests an air of irony and detachment. Yet as the pages turn and the shadow of AIDS darkens around him, the façade crumbles to leave a vulnerable, frightened man before the reader. The loss of life reflected in these pages is heartbreaking and staggering. Almost every mention of a name is accompanied by a footnote or parenthetical statement explaining that they died before the essay was published. It’s devastating to think about what it would be like to be hidden from view and left to die slowly in my twenties or thirties.
At first, Feinberg manifests an air of irony and detachment. Yet as the pages turn and the shadow of AIDS darkens around him, the façade crumbles to leave a vulnerable, frightened man before the reader. The loss of life reflected in these pages is heartbreaking and staggering. Almost every mention of a name is accompanied by a footnote or parenthetical statement explaining that they died before the essay was published. It’s devastating to think about what it would be like to be hidden from view and left to die slowly in my twenties or thirties.
December 15, 2011
A collection of essays written in the early 90s by Feinberg, a young gay man with AIDS. A math geek and computer programmer, Feinberg spends his free time going to friends' funerals, trying to prevent and treat his snow-balling health problems, and doing huge amounts of activism. He's very funny, but he's also clearly very angry, and rightfully so. Not a single anecdote passes without needing footnotes--nearly every person he mentions is dead by the time each essay was published.
Feinberg died in 1995, the same month this book was published. But knowing this doesn't imbue the work with any extra meaning or pathos. It's an excellent book regardless of its writer's fate; his humor may be more biting than witty, but it's always on-point. Knowing that his convoluted health regimen and years spent campaigning for more research, more treatment options, and better standards of care for HIV+ people did not, in the end, save him doesn't destroy the meaning of all that effort. Feinberg was a fire brand and a nerd, and his work serves as both a fascinating historical document and a call to action.
Feinberg died in 1995, the same month this book was published. But knowing this doesn't imbue the work with any extra meaning or pathos. It's an excellent book regardless of its writer's fate; his humor may be more biting than witty, but it's always on-point. Knowing that his convoluted health regimen and years spent campaigning for more research, more treatment options, and better standards of care for HIV+ people did not, in the end, save him doesn't destroy the meaning of all that effort. Feinberg was a fire brand and a nerd, and his work serves as both a fascinating historical document and a call to action.
May 24, 2008
This was about the saddest book I've ever read. His humor is sharp and biting but he tells the realities of AIDS symptoms, and what makes the lot of it unbearable is looking up his dates of birth and death, and realizing that he never met his goal of living to 40 years.
January 5, 2012
I have had this book for ages, since college, probably, though I don't remember at all how I acquired it. I do know it has sat on my shelves for many a year. I'm sure I felt there was no urgency to read another AIDS book after I've read Paul Monette and And the Band Played On. And once I'd gotten to this point, well, why now? Now that the crisis has passed its hottest point of urgency. Not that an unreasonable number of people aren't still being infected, not that prevention still remains shrouded in secrecy and superstition in much of the world, by those who don't want anyone talking about "dirty" things like sex or drugs, and not like most of the world isn't content to wring their hands briefly and then look away, especially when it's mostly people of color doing the dying. But now, now that we're gaining a better understanding of how the virus works. Now that AIDS fundraising and advocacy groups are generally afforded the same level of respectability as cancer and heart disease organizations. Now that a diagnosis no longer has to mean that you die of AIDS. Not if you can afford the meds.
Maybe it is this exact sense of blandness that has accumulated around the AIDS crisis that made this book, once I'd picked it up on a random impulse, so gripping and hard to put down. To be reminded that it was life and death once, to everyone who had it, is to be reminded that it is still so, for so many, now. Then it was Reagan, a slow drug approval process, and the public's general apathy in the face of what was seen as a gay man's disease. (I'm reminded suddenly of Eddie Izzard's line on foreign dictators -- "We've been trying to kill you for ages! So kill your own people, right on there.") Now it's international patent law, squeamish conservative restrictions placed on international aid, and the public's general apathy in the face of what is seen as an African disease.
But this changing face of AIDS is not what this book is about. Queer and Loathing is a collection of extremely personal essays by one gay man grappling with his HIV status in New York City in the late eighties, early nineties. For the most part the essays were written as stand-alone pieces, freelance articles for magazines and speeches for protests and demonstrations. But arranged chronologically, they form a solid narrative, a compelling portrait of the author, and a glimpse into the activist community during the heyday of ACT-UP demonstrations.
The stories of the demonstrations offer an interesting comparison between how cops and other law enforcement reacted to the persistent, recurring demonstrations of AIDS activists then, and Occupy protesters now. Even when the police overreacted then (and they most certainly did, on occasion), there were no mentions of tear gas or pepper spray. No telling people it was okay to cross a certain line, then cordoning off and arresting all who did. But I suppose that's another conversation for another time.
Maybe it is this exact sense of blandness that has accumulated around the AIDS crisis that made this book, once I'd picked it up on a random impulse, so gripping and hard to put down. To be reminded that it was life and death once, to everyone who had it, is to be reminded that it is still so, for so many, now. Then it was Reagan, a slow drug approval process, and the public's general apathy in the face of what was seen as a gay man's disease. (I'm reminded suddenly of Eddie Izzard's line on foreign dictators -- "We've been trying to kill you for ages! So kill your own people, right on there.") Now it's international patent law, squeamish conservative restrictions placed on international aid, and the public's general apathy in the face of what is seen as an African disease.
But this changing face of AIDS is not what this book is about. Queer and Loathing is a collection of extremely personal essays by one gay man grappling with his HIV status in New York City in the late eighties, early nineties. For the most part the essays were written as stand-alone pieces, freelance articles for magazines and speeches for protests and demonstrations. But arranged chronologically, they form a solid narrative, a compelling portrait of the author, and a glimpse into the activist community during the heyday of ACT-UP demonstrations.
The stories of the demonstrations offer an interesting comparison between how cops and other law enforcement reacted to the persistent, recurring demonstrations of AIDS activists then, and Occupy protesters now. Even when the police overreacted then (and they most certainly did, on occasion), there were no mentions of tear gas or pepper spray. No telling people it was okay to cross a certain line, then cordoning off and arresting all who did. But I suppose that's another conversation for another time.
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November 15, 2021I believe I picked up my copy of David B. Feinberg's 'Queer and Loathing' on a whim at a used bookstore sometime in college. I have a really bad habit of going to used bookstores, justifying purchases to myself based on how little a book costs, and then shoving whatever I buy onto a bookshelf where it may sit untouched for weeks, months, or even years. I chose to read it fairly arbitrarily, not knowing anything beyond the name of the book and what it's back cover said. Published in November 1994, the same month as Feinberg's death, 'Queer and Loathing' is a collection of writings and speeches from Feinberg regarding his experiences as a gay man living with AIDS in the late 80s-early 90s.
The first time I can recall hearing about AIDS was kindergarten, when students were told to do some activity book featuring a talking dinosaur urging children to not ostracize others for having AIDS. It wasn't until I was in high school and beginning to learn about queer identity that I began to really know anything about HIV/AIDS. Even today I wouldn't consider myself particularly well-versed in AIDS' history, having learned what I do know from some class readings and documentaries about organizations like ACT UP. Feinberg's writings provide a look into the lived experiences of someone with AIDS. Presented in roughly chronological order, this collection gives a sketch of Feinberg's experience leading up to his death in 1994.
Feinberg's writings are infused with a level of humor as well as anger directed at the institutions and organizations responsible for the severity of the AIDS/HIV crisis. Some of the writings have footnotes from Feinberg explaining why he wrote the piece or remembering individuals he referenced who had passed prior to the collection's publication. Given the the book's subject matter, it shouldn't be surprising to note that for as much as anger and humor is infused into these writings, there is also a level of sadness as Feinberg writes about individuals who now, 27 years after its initial publication, have been dead for decades. While there has been a lot of progress made in those years regarding the treatment of HIV/AIDS, it's important that we do not forget the history that has made such progress possible. And it's also important that we acknowledge those who are still affected and are unable to receive help due to similar institutions as described here.
The first time I can recall hearing about AIDS was kindergarten, when students were told to do some activity book featuring a talking dinosaur urging children to not ostracize others for having AIDS. It wasn't until I was in high school and beginning to learn about queer identity that I began to really know anything about HIV/AIDS. Even today I wouldn't consider myself particularly well-versed in AIDS' history, having learned what I do know from some class readings and documentaries about organizations like ACT UP. Feinberg's writings provide a look into the lived experiences of someone with AIDS. Presented in roughly chronological order, this collection gives a sketch of Feinberg's experience leading up to his death in 1994.
Feinberg's writings are infused with a level of humor as well as anger directed at the institutions and organizations responsible for the severity of the AIDS/HIV crisis. Some of the writings have footnotes from Feinberg explaining why he wrote the piece or remembering individuals he referenced who had passed prior to the collection's publication. Given the the book's subject matter, it shouldn't be surprising to note that for as much as anger and humor is infused into these writings, there is also a level of sadness as Feinberg writes about individuals who now, 27 years after its initial publication, have been dead for decades. While there has been a lot of progress made in those years regarding the treatment of HIV/AIDS, it's important that we do not forget the history that has made such progress possible. And it's also important that we acknowledge those who are still affected and are unable to receive help due to similar institutions as described here.
April 6, 2014
At times I feel my body has been transformed into a factory of infection, a vessel of virus. The wheels and cogs are constantly turning, manufacturing more toxins and poisons. My body is merely the host.
David B. Feinberg, "Bleeding Gums from Hell", 96.
The final wishes of an atheist are ultimately meaningless. I mean, I would like to be cremated after any salvageable organs have been donated to right-wing Republicans and religious fundamentalists because I'm really not bitter after all). But ultimately it isn't my concern.
David B. Feinberg, "Waiting for the End of the World", 137.
I'm sick and tired of red ribbons and the Names Quilt. There's something 'nice' about a red ribbon for AIDS awareness. There's nothing 'nice' about AIDS. Leave it to some design queens to transform a plague into a fashion statement. As for the Names Quilt, I don't want to end up a rectangular rag, however suitably decorated. The textile responses to the AIDS crisis leave me cold. I prefer to wear my ACT UP button that says 'ACT UP, FIGHT BACK, FIGHT AIDS' and have people on the subway cringe when they read the last word on it.
David B. Feinberg, "Waiting for the End of the World", 184.
David B. Feinberg, "Bleeding Gums from Hell", 96.
The final wishes of an atheist are ultimately meaningless. I mean, I would like to be cremated after any salvageable organs have been donated to right-wing Republicans and religious fundamentalists because I'm really not bitter after all). But ultimately it isn't my concern.
David B. Feinberg, "Waiting for the End of the World", 137.
I'm sick and tired of red ribbons and the Names Quilt. There's something 'nice' about a red ribbon for AIDS awareness. There's nothing 'nice' about AIDS. Leave it to some design queens to transform a plague into a fashion statement. As for the Names Quilt, I don't want to end up a rectangular rag, however suitably decorated. The textile responses to the AIDS crisis leave me cold. I prefer to wear my ACT UP button that says 'ACT UP, FIGHT BACK, FIGHT AIDS' and have people on the subway cringe when they read the last word on it.
David B. Feinberg, "Waiting for the End of the World", 184.
June 23, 2022
“good luck, and goodbye” has to be the most heartbreaking ending to any queer book ever written. Rest In Peace, David.
April 19, 2022
“A GENERALIZED DREAD”
David B. Feinberg’s third book, Queer and Loathing: Rants and Raves of a Raging AIDS Clone, is nonfiction, so he loses B.J., his fictional persona from Eighty-Sixed and Spontaneous Combustion, and writes as himself. Many characters and events from the first two books appear in Queer and Loathing, thus verifying the truth of what Feinberg wrote as fiction. Feinberg doesn’t pull any punches. As the title of the book indicates, he rants and raves and rages—and with a vengeance. He takes no prisoners. He is dealing with AIDS and doesn’t suffer fools gladly, least of all himself.
In the essay, “AIDS and Humor,” Feinberg writes, “Humor is a survival tactic, a defense mechanism . . . Once you joke about something, you appropriate it.” Feinberg’s use of humor to help him confront the crisis is evident in all of the pieces in Queer and Loathing, particularly in the lists he intersperses between the essays. These humorous, sarcastic, and, dare I say, demented lists break up the almost unbearable intensity of the book. He advises the reader in “How to Visit Someone in the Hospital with a Terminal Disease” that “It may not be the best time to show him your latest piercing if he has just had a catheter implanted in his chest.” In “Miss Letitia Thing’s New Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior for the Dying,” he says, “It’s all right to act a little spoiled. This may be your last chance to be a prima donna. Make the most of it.”
The death toll from AIDS is overwhelming: “Mark [Fisher] died of sepsis . . . Mark Fisher was so sweet. I tried calling Mark Bronnenberg in San Francisco to let him know. I found out that he had died on Thursday, the day after Paul’s memorial, the afternoon I found out that Richard was dead.” Feinberg asks, “How many people can you grieve for properly when everyone is dying?”
One of my favorite essays from the collection is “Notes from the Front Lines: Writing about AIDS.” Feinberg presented this piece at an OutWrite conference. He discusses his medical condition: “My symptoms so far have been mild side effects from prophylactic drugs and diagnostic tests, and a generalized dread.” He discusses the autobiographical elements in his first two books: “I feel compelled to testify. I will continue to write about AIDS as long as I am able to because, in a sense, there really is no other topic.”
In “Memorials from Hell.” Feinberg writes, “If David’s memorial was the Nicholas Nickleby of memorials [it lasted three hours], my memorial would be a Ring Cycle marathon. My friend Michael Morrissey told me that he had topped me; his memorial was to be a subscription series.” It is a tribute to Feinberg’s talent that with his dark humor and rapid-fire one-liners he makes extremely serious and important points.
Feinberg ends Queer and Loathing with “Good-bye, and good luck.” This has to be one of the saddest farewells in gay literature.
Queer and Loathing is an essential work about the AIDS experience. David B. Feinberg died on November 2, 1994 at the age of 37, shortly before Queer and Loathing was published.
David B. Feinberg’s third book, Queer and Loathing: Rants and Raves of a Raging AIDS Clone, is nonfiction, so he loses B.J., his fictional persona from Eighty-Sixed and Spontaneous Combustion, and writes as himself. Many characters and events from the first two books appear in Queer and Loathing, thus verifying the truth of what Feinberg wrote as fiction. Feinberg doesn’t pull any punches. As the title of the book indicates, he rants and raves and rages—and with a vengeance. He takes no prisoners. He is dealing with AIDS and doesn’t suffer fools gladly, least of all himself.
In the essay, “AIDS and Humor,” Feinberg writes, “Humor is a survival tactic, a defense mechanism . . . Once you joke about something, you appropriate it.” Feinberg’s use of humor to help him confront the crisis is evident in all of the pieces in Queer and Loathing, particularly in the lists he intersperses between the essays. These humorous, sarcastic, and, dare I say, demented lists break up the almost unbearable intensity of the book. He advises the reader in “How to Visit Someone in the Hospital with a Terminal Disease” that “It may not be the best time to show him your latest piercing if he has just had a catheter implanted in his chest.” In “Miss Letitia Thing’s New Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior for the Dying,” he says, “It’s all right to act a little spoiled. This may be your last chance to be a prima donna. Make the most of it.”
The death toll from AIDS is overwhelming: “Mark [Fisher] died of sepsis . . . Mark Fisher was so sweet. I tried calling Mark Bronnenberg in San Francisco to let him know. I found out that he had died on Thursday, the day after Paul’s memorial, the afternoon I found out that Richard was dead.” Feinberg asks, “How many people can you grieve for properly when everyone is dying?”
One of my favorite essays from the collection is “Notes from the Front Lines: Writing about AIDS.” Feinberg presented this piece at an OutWrite conference. He discusses his medical condition: “My symptoms so far have been mild side effects from prophylactic drugs and diagnostic tests, and a generalized dread.” He discusses the autobiographical elements in his first two books: “I feel compelled to testify. I will continue to write about AIDS as long as I am able to because, in a sense, there really is no other topic.”
In “Memorials from Hell.” Feinberg writes, “If David’s memorial was the Nicholas Nickleby of memorials [it lasted three hours], my memorial would be a Ring Cycle marathon. My friend Michael Morrissey told me that he had topped me; his memorial was to be a subscription series.” It is a tribute to Feinberg’s talent that with his dark humor and rapid-fire one-liners he makes extremely serious and important points.
Feinberg ends Queer and Loathing with “Good-bye, and good luck.” This has to be one of the saddest farewells in gay literature.
Queer and Loathing is an essential work about the AIDS experience. David B. Feinberg died on November 2, 1994 at the age of 37, shortly before Queer and Loathing was published.
October 23, 2021
David B. Feinberg wrote these articles and talks in the early 90s when he was well into living with HIV and his status turned to AIDS. We get a great look at his activism, the many deaths, his declining health, all told with a campy humor and a stark realism. He states, "My aim is to reflect experiences of being HIV-positive and gay life so people can recognize their feelings and feel less isolated." In this he succeeded.
He reveals his own anxiety in the essay "Waiting for the End of the World" section 6. Anxiety as Fuel, he writes "I vacillate between periods of mild anxiety and total hysteria. It takes a while getting used to being HIV-positive. I think it took me two years to modulate my response to a somewhat manageable level of abject terror. I was lucky to have the time to adjust. Far too many people haven't." His work is a gift to many. Sadly, he died in November 1994, some of these were published in 1989, but many in 1993 up to early 1994.
For me this book stirred up many memories.
He reveals his own anxiety in the essay "Waiting for the End of the World" section 6. Anxiety as Fuel, he writes "I vacillate between periods of mild anxiety and total hysteria. It takes a while getting used to being HIV-positive. I think it took me two years to modulate my response to a somewhat manageable level of abject terror. I was lucky to have the time to adjust. Far too many people haven't." His work is a gift to many. Sadly, he died in November 1994, some of these were published in 1989, but many in 1993 up to early 1994.
For me this book stirred up many memories.
February 8, 2023
I dont even know where to start with this book - it is so well written and exactly the right kind of funny to perfectly explain the horrors of the aids crisis. reading these pieces you really get a sense of just how clever david was: i am sure that i would have found him and enjoyed his work thirty years later even if there had been no great tragedy.
one thing that really struck me was just how similar gay culture and activist culture are now to how they were in the 80s & 90s. there are passages in this book that could really have been written today - especially living through a health crisis now. i love being annoyed at tiktokers for having the same conversations we had on tumblr 10 years ago but looking back there were adults on tumblr who felt the exact same. i have read the line about including an ovolactovegetarian lesbian of colour not for tokinism but as affirmative action to all of my friends.
I would really recommend this book if you’re interested gay culture and history. may david and every other aids victim rest in peace.
one thing that really struck me was just how similar gay culture and activist culture are now to how they were in the 80s & 90s. there are passages in this book that could really have been written today - especially living through a health crisis now. i love being annoyed at tiktokers for having the same conversations we had on tumblr 10 years ago but looking back there were adults on tumblr who felt the exact same. i have read the line about including an ovolactovegetarian lesbian of colour not for tokinism but as affirmative action to all of my friends.
I would really recommend this book if you’re interested gay culture and history. may david and every other aids victim rest in peace.
February 29, 2024
There's a big difference between the largely impersonal knowledge that a historical, statistical recollection of the AIDs crisis that nonfiction books provide, and the raw, devastating, humorous, imaginative energy that a collection of personal essays provides. This book was fantastic from start to finish; Feinberg is funny, compelling, but his writing is also deeply angry and real. I think one of the concepts that hit me hardest was this continuing motif that life with AIDs is not just hysterical, it's exhausting—your entire life becomes about your status and health. The tired and frustrated ways in which he recalls death mounts at the end of the book with his essay "Political Funerals," where all of that anger comes together in a directed way. Those final pieces, especially "Regrets," hit harder knowing Feinberg died of AIDs related complications. I loved the book; it was deeply personal and poignant and I will probably come back to several of these essays.
November 2, 2022
Humorous and heavy. I don't think I've ever felt as emotionally connected to the AIDS crisis as I have while reading this book. Feinberg so sharply illustrated what living in the AIDS crisis as a gay man was like - not only the constant stream of suffering, but also how that grief intersected with the daily trials of work, love, and anxiety. Everything is about AIDS and everything is also about friendship, embarrassment, beauty, social dynamics, lovers, regret, loneliness, politics, and activism.
I didn't expect to identify with Feinberg so much - he's also an anxious computer programmer who likes writing (but is extremely neurotic about what others think of him). Perhaps that sense of identification made the writing feel all the more real to me.
Highly recommend!
I didn't expect to identify with Feinberg so much - he's also an anxious computer programmer who likes writing (but is extremely neurotic about what others think of him). Perhaps that sense of identification made the writing feel all the more real to me.
Highly recommend!
January 18, 2023
This is one of the few works of nonfiction about the AIDS pandemic that must survive. I first read Feinberg when I was in high school and recently re-read Queer and Loathing straight-through for the first time since college. I wondered whether I would still love it or whether, as an adult, his anger and his humor, the book's two dominant modes, would no longer hit the same way. Fortunately, they did. There's an aggressive tastelessness in Feinberg's essays that feels wholly appropriate considering their subject. Few others had the balls to chronicle the destruction of their generation in quite this level of unflinching detail.
February 5, 2021
This book captured the tragedy of being gay in the 80s and 90s, and trying to get the government to do something while your friends, lovers, doctors, coworkers, and acquaintances die. David B.’s dark sense of humor made this topic palatable, but i still cried a lot. For anyone who enjoyed this book (and wants to cry more), i suggest checking out the blog of his very best friend in the whole world, John Weir. He has an essay about the days leading up to David’s death.
June 25, 2025
You will laugh.
What begins as a collection of deceptively lighthearted essays focused somewhat on NYC gay life at the dawn of the 90s written in the arch gallows humor-detachment vein of the best Fran Lebowitz or Cookie Mueller pieces quickly spirals into the horrified and anguished screams of a young man with much to live for, but no life left to give.
You will cry.
"Good-bye, and good luck."
What begins as a collection of deceptively lighthearted essays focused somewhat on NYC gay life at the dawn of the 90s written in the arch gallows humor-detachment vein of the best Fran Lebowitz or Cookie Mueller pieces quickly spirals into the horrified and anguished screams of a young man with much to live for, but no life left to give.
You will cry.
"Good-bye, and good luck."
March 21, 2018
One of the best books about the AIDS Crisis I've ever read. Feinberg is relentlessly humorous, absolutely floundering and bitter in the hopelessness of his situation. He died three weeks before the book was published.
August 9, 2025
a very brutally honest no sugar coating view of life with aids. in one paragraph david described how he’d lost 4 people back to back within a few weeks. it’s a life no one could ever think of imagining.
October 14, 2022
5 stars for saying you can fight the AIDS crisis by eviscerating or nuking Jesse Helms
April 26, 2016
"A lot of people say they've lived their lives with no regrets. They're lying."
Did I take my sweet time reading these essays, which with their dazzling wit and incomparable humor made the grim subject palatable... Feinberg manages to mingle grief, anger, fear and his towering fury with a spoon of full of his unique blend of sarcasm and neurosis... Having read his debut novel, Eighty-Sixed, I could appreciate this unbelievable fusion and also probably get an idea of this man who desperately wanted to turn forty before his dies... But he died at thirty-seven.
I would recommend these essays to everyone who wants to think of a world so unlike ours and a past that should not be forgotten..
Did I take my sweet time reading these essays, which with their dazzling wit and incomparable humor made the grim subject palatable... Feinberg manages to mingle grief, anger, fear and his towering fury with a spoon of full of his unique blend of sarcasm and neurosis... Having read his debut novel, Eighty-Sixed, I could appreciate this unbelievable fusion and also probably get an idea of this man who desperately wanted to turn forty before his dies... But he died at thirty-seven.
I would recommend these essays to everyone who wants to think of a world so unlike ours and a past that should not be forgotten..
July 24, 2015
Can I call this collection of essays 'delightful?' Well, I must. It is funny and brave and thoughtful. One of a handful of works on the AIDS crisis that I hope stands the test of time. Feinberg doesn't fuck around with his feelings. And why should he? Why should any of us? History repeats itself and I think we'd all be wise to remember one of the atrocities that too many of us think is "behind us."
March 20, 2010
If you ever wondered what it was like to be a part of the NYC queer community in the middle of the AIDS crisis, then read this book. This book is humorous but filled with sad realities of a world where an entire community is ravaged daily by death and despair.
December 9, 2007
Fascinating!
May 25, 2011
Powerful, angry, and heartbreaking.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews