Just finished Tom Dolby’s Trouble Boy (Kensington, 2004) which it seems was the gay novel of the season–if one discounts the novelization of Latter Days. Judging from the reviews at Amazon, everyone loved this book. I get the feel though it’s in the same way that every old queen loves the cute young twink at the bar–rationalizing it to his personality or intelligence. I just don’t get this book. It wasn’t bad per se and, I do think, it served the summer novel niche well. But I am still not able to make the simple leap to generate interest or energy for these characters and their (yawn) pursuit of happiness. It’s the closest to a gay Bright Lights Big City that I’ve come across… But then I didn’t get the appeal of that book either. Fluff. Not fluffer. Do we really need twink fiction? And if we do then I will leave you with one question…. Why!?
Wait, don’t answer that–Just go out and buy Trebor Healey’s Through It Came Bright Colors or Marshall Moore’s The Concrete Sky.