Between Men

Edited by Richard Canning
Carroll & Graf, $14.95

For readers longing for the escape that only fiction can provide but reluctant to embark on a long novel in this season of recreational distraction, Between Men, Richard Canning’s cannily selected collection of “Original Fiction from Today’s Best Gay Writers,” is a bountiful buffet of literary canapés.

Following Canning’s lengthy introduction tracing the recent history of gay short story collections, Between Men offers 18 stories from writers as established as Andrew Holleran, Dale Peck and Edmund White to relative newcomers like Alistair McCartney, Vestal McIntyre and Mark Friedman.

Many of the familiar themes of gay male fiction crop up throughout: the pursuit of sex, the longing for (and attraction to) youth and the formative experiences of young men. In the hands of the skilled writers assembled here, however, these themes are dressed in fascinating new clothing. Friedman’s “A Joint and a Nice Piece of Ass” traces a thirtysomething man’s obsession with the underage Jake that takes him halfway around the world. White’s “The Painted Boy” is about an imagined relationship between the seemingly straight American writer Stephen Crane (The Red Badge of Courage) and a teenage hustler. The story is the finale to Between Men and leaves us wanting more, which, luckily, we will get, as it is an excerpt from a forthcoming novel.

The highpoint of the impressive collection is actually the first story, Andrew Holleran’s “Hello Young Lovers,” a wistful, sharply observed snapshot of a multigenerational group of gay men vacationing at the same remote Puerto Rican hotel. Notably set in 1981, just before AIDS began its ravages, “Hello Young Lovers” is an almost perfect example of the short story form: contained, yet universal in its scope, richly detailed and ending with a satisfying twist.

With fewer outlets for gay short fiction to be published these days, a collection like Between Men is an important reminder of the delights and value of the genre. —Christopher Cappiello

Edmund and Rosemary Go to Hell

By Bruce Eric Kaplan
Simon & Schuster, $11.95

Regular readers of the New Yorker are familiar with the distinctive, slightly troubling drawings of Bruce Eric Kaplan, who signs his dark cartoons “BEK.” The faces of his hefty, block-like characters often look like they could break out in Munch’s “Scream” at any moment.

That sense of repressed anxiety permeates Kaplan’s new book, Edmund and Rosemary Go to Hell, a hilarious and ultimately upbeat story about a contemporary married couple whose only explanation for the horrors of modern life—traffic, cell phones, chain stores, McMansions—is that they must be in hell. At first Rosemary resists the idea; when she eventually agrees, Edmund is “delighted he was right, but sad about being in hell.”

Kaplan’s couple goes on a search for the truth, en route skewering government bureaucracy, religion, psychology and much of modern life. Like any good odyssey, however, their journey takes them back to where they started; each reader’s perspective will determine whether the story is one of denial, acceptance or appreciation.

Kaplan’s clipped and clever prose is matched by his endlessly inventive composition; few artists are bolder in their use of negative space. The combination creates a laugh-out-loud journey that—surprisingly—might leave you wanting to smell a flower, listen to a bird or hug a friend. —C.C.