The Way Out:
The Gay Man’s Guide to Freedom No Matter If You’re in Denial, Closeted, Half In, Half Out, Just Out or Been Around the Block
By Christopher Lee Nutter
Health Communications, Inc.
189 pages, paperback, $14.95

Reviewed by Toby Johnson

Part edgy memoir, part social criticism, part spiritual writing, The Way Out is Christopher Nutter’s account of his journey from closeted, nerdy Alabamian to hot and sexy New York Gay bartender and party boy, to jaded and unhappy victim of Gay club culture glitz, to spiritual seeker and exponent of Gay wisdom.

There are not a lot of details of Nutter’s autobiography in the book; the book isn’t about him. But his personal story provides the framework within which to share the insights he has gained over his twelve years as an explorer of urban Gay life. There’s just enough personal anecdote, from his own life and from that of friends he cites, to keep the wisdom grounded, and the insights identifiable and personal.

Chris Nutter grew up in straight middle-America, in his case in Birmingham, Alabama, in the 70s and 80s. As a child, he was depressed and withdrawn, he tells, because he didn’t feel attractive enough or masculine and self-confident. Once he got to college, he began to remedy his sense of physical and personal inadequacy by going to the gym, changing his look, and acting the role of privileged pretty boy. But he was still in denial of his sexual feelings. So it was a monumental shift in his life when in 1993 he decided to take control of his own destiny. He dropped his plans for law school to do what he wanted to do, which was to be a writer, came out Gay, took a magazine internship job in Boston, and, most significantly, initiated his new identity by writing an article for Details magazine about life in the closet. He burst out of his own closet on a national scale. And was met with almost universal acceptance.
As he tentatively explored the Gay sub-cultural world of the big cities, he discovered Gay club culture: “gorgeous, glamorous Gay men with hot bodies.” He threw himself into that world. He scored a job as a bartender at a famous Gay bar, wrote for a Gay magazine, posed for classy homoerotic photography. So by the standards of that glitz Gay club culture, he’d made it. He was one of those men with the hot bodies. He could do attitude and fuck like it was an athletic sport. But he still wasn’t happy.

He observes that “coming out of the closet is usually thought of as the singular answer to the Gay ‘predicament.’ But then the Gay world just takes over your mind and fills your head with yet another false reality about who you are. It’s a solution, but only part of the whole solution, a step in the right direction, but only a step. There remains the deeper question of who you really are. And this is a spiritual question.”

Intermixing themes in current spiritual thought: the Dalai Lama, Joseph Campbell, Don Miguel Ruiz, Gary Zukav, A Course in Miracles, the Twelve Steps, Nutter offers an answer to who you really are. And in the process recounts how he came to understand this through his experience in urban Gay culture. The answer, of course, isn’t new or surprising. It’s the age-old answer: we are each a perspective that “God” or “Divine Consciousness” or “the cosmos” …whatever you want to call “IT” is taking on itself. We are not separate beings, competing and fighting with one another. We are each other and so it’s ok to tell the truth, it’s ok to let go of fear, it’s ok to love and respect other human beings as expressions of the divine consciousness.

Nutter identifies five steps in changing one’s life: Decide to Heal; Recognize Your Pain as Your Pain; Look For How You Cover Up or Avoid Your Pain; Refrain From Reacting, Feel Your Pain and Learn What Is Causing It; and Correct Your Vision. These describe the dynamics of psychotherapy and consciousness-raising, but presented in identifiable terms, based in modern day experience. They also echo the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths.

Chris Nutter’s articulation of this wisdom is fresh and current. He speaks with the voice of his generation and in a way that makes this revolutionary mystical wisdom seem obvious and inevitable, even though it is life-altering. And he derives his wisdom from his Gay experience not in repudiation or rejection of it.

Nutter is a little judgmental about that glitzy Gay club culture. There certainly is justification for this. The club culture/Gay bar culture/sexual underworld can be alluring, then addicting, then destructive. Some men’s lives are ruined by drugs and alcohol and compulsive sex. Some men need “the way out” from the Gay world, just as they had earlier needed “the way out” of the closet. For most Gay men, I think, this comes about as simply the natural development of growing older and changing priorities. But even for those who are just naturally growing up, a book like this can be immensely helpful. We all go through those five steps whether we know it or not. It helps to know it and to have some guidance in understanding where the process is going.

It’s refreshing to discover a book like this coming from the youth generation of today. It’s one thing when these ideas about mature Gay consciousness come from psychiatrists and professional spiritual writers. It’s quite another, much more immediately accessible and believable, when it comes from one of those gorgeous, hot bartenders.

Interesting, by the way, Nutter doesn’t use the word queer. There’s a welcome naiveté about the politicized terminology of the Gay movement; this gives the book a feel of personal honesty and straightforwardness and makes it speak its wisdom that much more effectively.
It is exciting and concerning that Chris Nutter has derived this wisdom and spiritual worldview on his own. It confirms the intuition that Gay men are talented at designing worldviews and religions (as we are with flowers and furniture). This is the personal yoga of every one of us today: to create our own religion. What’s concerning is that he had to do it without the help of the generations of other Gay spiritual seekers who’ve done it before him because their wisdom just isn’t readily available to the mainstream — and especially the Gay club — culture. Our Gay history keeps getting lost.

It’s a symptom of collective homophobia — and how it gets expressed in mainstream Gay culture — that young homosexuals seeking to overcome personal homophobia naturally resist instruction from older homosexuals out of the very homophobia they’re trying to overcome. This dynamic is familiar as the notion that homosexuals can’t be trusted to be accurate reporters on homosexuality because we’d be biased! As though personal experience and knowing whereof one speaks is a “bias.” Exacerbating the problem of passing Gay wisdom down from one generation to another is that the very experience of realizing and accepting one’s own homosexuality usually is concomitant with realizing you can only trust your own counsel, everything you’ve been told about sexuality is wrong and you have to discover the secret truth yourself. In Buddhist terms, you’re on your own and nobody’s going to save you. So each generation of “homosexuals” begins by rejecting the past and distrusting all passed-down wisdom, whether it’s from their parents, their church and government or from Gay community elders. (This manifests, of course, as the continual evolving of the “politically correct” name for the movement; every generation rejects the previous generation.)
So in a way I have to think I’m sorry Chris Nutter had to go without the accumulated wisdom of the Gay elders. Our community somehow needs to learn its historical continuity and “apostolic” succession and make this consciousness accessible to youth just joining us. But I am also quite proud of him for having made the perilous journey. I expect him to take his place among the new generation of Gay leaders and luminaries.
The Way Out is a good book. It’s easy to read, interesting and thought-provoking. Nutter’s presentation of the perennial wisdom is fresh and accessible.

Pay Me What I’m Worth:
A Guide to Help You Say It, Mean It, Get It
By Souldancer
Souldancer Network
198 pages, paperback, $19.95

Reviewed by Toby Johnson

When I was first putting up the White Crane Journal website nearly a decade ago now, and discovering that creating links with other websites was the key to carving out a space for oneself on the worldwide web, I found a site called Gay Evolution. The goal of this website was an online community of Lesbian and Gay people committed to personal growth and the general principles of the human potential movement. Gay Evolution proved — not surprisingly, I suppose — a little ahead of its time. Online communities, like MySpace, hadn’t really evolved yet. And Gay Evolution was idealistic, not just social. It came to function primarily as a referral site for career and personal coaches. It certainly assisted me as editor, back then, of White Crane Journal in learning of Gay professionals across the country. But then in the notorious shakeup of the dot-coms and retrenching of the Internet, the Gay Evolution site got left behind.

I’ve stayed friends, and occasional correspondent, with one of the founders of Gay Evolution, the man who now goes by the name Souldancer. He has evolved himself, staying on that cutting edge, now offering, as he says, “a unique blend of multicultural ancient wisdom with the best of global business practices.” Souldancing: The Path of the Masters is the name he gives his approach to personal coaching and set of techniques for helping clients improve their lives and create happiness and satisfaction for themselves. And, of course, Souldancing is the source of the name he’s adopted for himself.

He has now produced a workbook-like text presentation summarizing one of the central themes from his coaching practice. And he has titled it with one of the great complaints career coaches must deal with all the time: “Pay Me What I’m Worth.” From a practical perspective — and that is what coaches specialize in, being practical and realistic — this is one of the most common sources of dissatisfaction with work people have: their job doesn’t pay them what they’re worth, which is to say, what they need to be happy and fulfilled as human beings.

The title might sound like simply instructions in asking for a raise. And it is that, but that is only a small part of the book. For to ask for a raise, Souldancer says, you need to believe you’re worth more to your employer because you believe in your own worth. So while there’s a little advice about how to properly and effectively word a request for a raise, that business practice offers the occasion for a much broader and richer quest for understanding what you really want (and need at the karmic/soul level) from the work you do. That is to say that the preparation for asking for a raise is really a quest to understand what your life is for.

The book offers a series of 33 exercises, all of them aimed at producing a so-called “Worth Passport.” The techniques are all pretty simple—like making post-it notes identifying your positive traits or your personal possessions, skills, and talents, then sorting them in various ways. You need to be able to assess your “worth” if you’re going to ask somebody else to pay you for it. And in the process, you discover there is so much more to you than just what you do in a job or what they pay you for. Producing your “Worth Passport” results in a major investigation of patterns in your whole life. And so the technique for determining occupational worth opens out into a practice for increasing self-esteem, confidence and sense of well-being.

Remember, Souldancer says he is blending good business practice with multicultural ancient wisdom. So it’s not surprising that the mercenary question about salary requirements turns into a spiritual inventory. As the exercises continue, they demonstrate that giving is the way to get and that integrity and ethical living is the best success and the way to get paid by life with happiness and fulfillment.

So the thing about asking for a raise is really a hook to pull you toward enlightenment and wisdom.

If you really are wanting help to ask for a raise, this book could be very useful. There’s good practical advice. BUT it is likely to transform you way beyond just getting a better salary.

For the purpose of writing a review, I read the book fast without actually doing the exercises. I’m sure I’d had benefited more fully if I had done them. But I want to attest that the book was interesting, occasionally eye-opening, and beneficial just read as a presentation on how people’s self-image and self-worth manifests itself in the details of their real lives.

So just like my finding Gay Evolution in the early days of the Internet, I suppose, Souldancer’s gimmick is to link all the various hungers we have for “more” in our lives into the great hunger for personal fulfillment and love. It’s the links that count. This is a useful book on many levels!

Absolutely Positively Not
by David LaRochelle
Arthur A. Levine Books
224 pages, $16.95
ISBN: 0439591090

Review by Steven LaVigne

An article in the Metro section of the May 26 Minneapolis Star-Tribune captured my attention, because a book fair for middle school students held in Thief River Falls, MN, banned Gay Minnesota writer David LaRochelle’s latest book, Absolutely, Positively Not, because it was thought to be “inappropriate.” Naturally, I had to read this banned book, and it’s an absolutely positively delightful read, perfect for the beach or a quiet night sitting on the porch before the sun sets.

This charming tale follows Steven DaNarski, a sophomore at Beaver Lake High School, “The Hockey Stick Capital of the World.” Like other boys his age, he’s desperate to lose his virginity, but he’s attracted to Mr. Bowman, the muscular sub who replaces the wrestling coach as his Health teacher. His mother has just published a book on raising a tidy teenager, even though her housekeeping skills are questionable. When he tries curbing his budding homosexuality, he follows the advice of a 1970s self-help guru, using rubber bands as aversion therapy. Instead of aversion, however, this create a sensation in school when rubber wrist bands become popular. He pins a Victoria’s Secret ad over a super hero poster, but none of this leads to much, because Steven really enjoys square dancing with his mother, tries to convince his best friend, Rachel that he’s popular by hanging out at the Hockey team’s table during lunch, and dates with girls remain innocent encounters.

There are genuinely witty sequences with every turn of the page. Judging from the knowing manner in which LaRochelle relates Steven’s story, it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s based on his own high school experiences, and judging from his website, Larochelle is as adventurous and daring as his leading character. I don’t want to spoil things for you, but I will let you know that Steven’s prom date is a highlight of Absolutely, Positively Not.
Don’t think twice about it, whether you check it out from the public library, order it online or get it from your local GLBT book outlet, you will Absolutely, Positively Not not be disappointed with this treasure.

Possible Side Effects
by Augusten Burroughs
St. Martin’s Press
304 pages, $23.95
ISBN: 0312315961

Review by Steven LaVigne

In the coffee shop I frequent, there’s a guy who’s been slowly devouring J. D. Salinger’s Nine Stories. As much as I admire his work, I made the mistake of overdosing on Salinger by reading everything in order. I’ve done that with Fitzgerald, Erica Jong and John Cheever as well, but unlike those authors, Salinger made me feel suicidal for weeks afterwards.

No matter how bizarre the world around us gets, it’s nice to know that, as we flow through it, someone else is struggling, observing things trough beer goggles or a pharmaceutical haze. Augusten Burroughs is such a person, and his latest collection of observances, Possible Side Effects, is every bit as marvelous as his other writings, no matter how jaundiced they may seem, including Running With Scissors and Magical Thinking.

Possible Side Effects included stories on Burroughs’ childhood: summertime visits with his grandmothers, one of whom he adored while despising the other; how a bloody nose while on an international flight leads to fears about leaving his hotel room and enjoying London; becoming attached, along with his lover, to a dog they fondly call “The Cow,” and the arrogance he encounters while wearing the t-shirts of assorted college teams while running around New York. He also writes at length about watching his mother sink further into addictions due to her bipolar disorder.

Among the extra-special treats in Possible Side Effects are “Killing John Updike,” where Burroughs’ good friend, Suzanne convinces him that John Updike is about to perish and that collecting first editions of his works will net a pretty profit shortly on eBay. He introduces us to his mother’s best friend in “The Forecast for Sommer,” explaining that she uses a coffin as a bookcase and collects prescription drugs. In “The Wisdom Tooth,” Burroughs and his lover, Dennis, vacation at a seaside bed and breakfast which the owner decorates with her doll collection, and Dennis becomes upset about being charged for a restaurant meal after Burroughs breaks his tooth on a baked potato.

There are hilarious sequences on his work as an advertiser, creating a campaign for Junior Mints; peeping on a neighbor and her lover, “Penis Man;” and his life before and after rehab.  Possible Side Effects is jam-packed full of gems, far too many to include in a review.

When I asked the guy in the coffee shop if Salinger made him feel suicidal, he laughed and I recommended Augusten Burroughs to him. I’ll know if he takes my advice any time now. By the time this review sees print, the film version of Running With Scissors will have opened. Maybe first editions of Burroughs will become more profitable on eBay, too.

Memoirs
by Tennessee Williams
New Directions
368 pages, $15.95
ISBN: 0811216691

Reviewed by Steve Lavigne

When the late American playwright Tennessee Williams published his Memoirs in 1975, the Stonewall Revolution was less than a decade old, and reviews were merciless, because William’s wrote so openly about his sex life. Having recently come out, I read the Memoirs as research for a now long-forgotten book project, and found them no different from much of the Gay literature I was reading at the time. Williams passed on less than a decade after their publication and the book was left to gather dust on library shelves or in remnant bins.

Now reissued by New Directions, and with an introduction by film director John Waters, Tennessee Williams’ Memoirs are a pleasure to discover again. Yes, there are the commentaries on his sexual encounters, including his relationship with the loves of his life, Frank Merlo and his sister, Rose (model for the character Laura in The Glass Menagerie). The one thing that reviews ignored at first, but which must be savored here, is that William’s’ writing style was always lyrical and he brings that same poetic style to his life story. Williams recognized his demons and faced them while composing this book, but if the stream of consciousness is, at times, disjointed, that’s forgivable.

The strongest theme that emerges from Memoirs is his feelings toward those whom he most admired, especially the writer Carson McCullers. No one wrote so refreshingly about the exploits of Anna Magnani, who would win the Oscar for her performance in Williams’ The Rose Tattoo. He writes beautifully of affection for and appreciation of the gifted Maureen Stapleton, Marlon Brando and Tallulah Bankhead, and delights us with dishy items on Gore Vidal, Truman Capote and Elizabeth Taylor. His appreciation for Elia Kazan and the opportunity of seeing the value his work retained in his lifetime are also reflected upon.

Williams’ place in the world theatre is assured, and sadly, he doesn’t dig deeper into some of the topics addressed. In an afterword, Allean Hale clarifies some of the book’s personae, but he might have commented on Not About Nightengales, the early prison drama discovered in the late 1990s. Tennessee Williams’ Memoirs have improved with age.

boy with an ‘i’
by David Montalvo
2006 Authorhouse Press, 194 pages.

Reviewed by Peter Savastano

For this reader, the only way to review David Montalvo’s boy with an ‘i’ is by using metaphors. The book, and I imagine its author, are both seeds that have not yet sprouted, at least by my reading of boy with an ‘i’. The book is advertised as a "multi-media work of art". Indeed, the reader has the option to draw upon a music poetry project, also entitled "i", which comes with the book, as well as through other interactive mediums. One can read poetry related to the story the book purports to tell (website addresses for these interactive aspects of this multi-media project are included in the introduction to the book) and also to listen to music relevant to the subject of the book.

As I read the book, I could not help but wish that Montalvo had held off on publishing it to give himself some more time to develop the themes that run through the book, some of which are: "self-deprecation to self-worth", "an attempt to gain God consciousness", and dealing with the after-effects of falling in love for the first time. All of these themes are present in the book, but only in the most cursory ways.

A Gay man who has been on such a tripartite journey himself will clearly recognize that these are experiences that can best be described with sufficient depth only after they have been assimilated into one’s consciousness over time. Unfortunately, in reading this book I get no sense that this is the case for the protagonist in the book who is Montalvo himself.

The book is haphazardly written. Try as I did, I was not able to figure out where the spiritual angle on it is to be found, except that the author intersperses biblical quotes between the six sections of the book. Montalvo does mention something he calls the "God-ing Process". Unfortunately, he never defines what this process is and other than as a concept, the reader (certainly not this reader) will be hard pressed to deduce what he means by "God-ing Process" from the context in which it is used. If one is suffering from a broken heart over a failed love relationship of the adolescent angst kind that so many of us adult Gay men over the age of thirty five suffer from (such as myself over the past year as a perfect, even if embarrassing, example), then this is a good book to read. The reader will know from doing so that he is not alone and eternally stuck at age twenty-five for eternity.

Technically, there are more typos in this book than I have seen in a long time and as the book nears its end, they get worse. Having read the book, it seems clear that Montalvo has potential as a writer about the sometimes very painful connection between romantic relationships and the spiritual quest from a uniquely Gay male perspective. It be better, however, if Montalvo continues to nurture his creative seeds to allow them sufficient time to sprout and grow into the beautiful mature flowers they can be before he commits them to paper in such a final way as a book.