Showing posts with label LGBT fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LGBT fiction. Show all posts

Monday, September 29, 2025

RUN AWAY WITH ME (Book Review)



By Brian Selznick

 


(Scholastic, 2025)


 

I’ve been a fan of Brian Selznick since before I knew it. His name first registered with me with the publication of thick-as-a-brick books The Invention of Hugo Cabret (2007), adapted into the 2011 Martin Scorsese film Hugo, and Wonderstruck (2011). What I didn’t realize—or I’d forgotten—is that Selznick also illustrated middle grade novels by Andrew Clements such as Frindle (1996) and The School Story (2001). What makes Selznick’s novels distinct is that they are chock full of illustrations which are not presented in the traditional way where they are spread out throughout chapters; instead, his illustrations come in large chunks, pages and pages of detailed black and white, full-page sketches. The illustrations often move the story along, filling gaps between the sections of prose that come before and after.

 


His new book, Run Away with Me, is a slight departure from Hugo and Wonderstruck which were both what I would classify as middle grade. Run Away is decidedly young adult in terms of content and its two sixteen-year-old main characters, Danny and Angelo. As well, the chunks of illustrations appear at the beginning (the first ninety-three pages) and the end (the last eighteen), none interspersed within the prose. For the most part, the illustrations don’t propel the story but enhance it. For instance, I found myself constantly flipping back to the first set of illustrations as particular places were mentioned in the story.

 

I would say this is a book about storytelling, both oral and in print. In the prologue, the narrator (Danny), tells the reader that the book is set in Rome in the summer of 1986. The prologue goes on to say that he met “a strange, curly-haired boy…who told me he had no name and shared true stories that couldn’t possibly have been true.” Indeed, the boy, Angelo—a name Danny ascribes to him—claims to be nearly three thousand years old. Selznick also gives us an idea of the tone of the novel when he writes: “He took over my imagination until he was all I could see, in every brick and stone and sculpture of the city. He looked like an angel…”

 

Yes, Selznick, the immensely successful children’s author has decided to tell a gay love story. (After the prologue, I immediately flipped to the About the Author page at the end wherein Selznick’s husband is mentioned.) A gay love story for younger teens. Not the first, but a welcome addition. Hallelujah! 

 

In the main story, Danny and Angelo spend their days wandering—running, often—through the streets of Rome where Angelo seems to have his own stories to go with every statue, fountain and, of particular interest to Danny, obelisk. Some stories are one-time tellings while others continue throughout the novel, most notably a story about the twin Mondo brothers, Alberto and Vittorio, and a sculptor and a young man who seemingly needs to live at sea, Dante and Giovanni. Incidentally, Danny’s mother works at the Mondo Museum, a site dedicated to books, especially known for restoring old and damaged works. 

 

Yes, the story is not just a love story between two boys, but also and ode to storytelling, books and the city of Rome. 

 

More than anything as I read the book, I wished I’d had something like this to read when I was fourteen or fifteen or even while I was still mostly closeted in 1986 at twenty-one. There is a tenderness between these boys from the very beginning:

 

                                    He looked at me with a dazzling 

                                    kind of joy, deep and pure and full 

                                    of surprise. I’d spent so long hiding 

                                    in the shadows, looking longingly at 

                                    others, I’d never imagined someone

                                    might look back.

 

This is a love story young queer readers deserve. The boys’ first kiss:

                                    He was quoting a famous poem by 

                                    Keats…When he was done reciting, 

                                    he slipped off my glasses, folded 

                                    them, and put them in my shirt 

                                    pocket. He then placed his hands

                                    on either side of my face. He was 

                                    trembling slightly, and so was I. 

                                    We both leaned forward, closer to 

                                    each other. Our lips touched, and 

                                    I understood what I’d been

                                    running toward all this time.

 

                                    We kissed, and he tasted of 

                                    honey, and figs, and Rome.

 


I wish my taste buds were that good.

 

As the boys spend more time together, they share more about their real lives and interests but the storytelling never stops. In fact, there are three other gay couples whose stories are told within the book. How great to have a book like this on shelves young readers can access! Selznick is masterful in putting just enough on the page while leaving details to the reader’s own mind, thus thwarting book banners who might salivate at the chance to rid libraries of another gay book. (I Googled and it doesn’t appear that the book has created a ruckus.)

 

As an adult reading Run Away with Me, it’s another reminder how far we’ve come in terms of gay visibility and validation. It also emboldens me to fight for other queer stories on bookshelves so readers with other identities can access their own love stories…or mysteries, thrillers and fantasies. 

 

   

Thursday, November 12, 2020

BOOK REVIEW: THE PRETTIEST STAR


For starters, I'll admit that I long to read more fiction set during the days of the AIDS crisis. There's so much inherent drama and tragedy in a time period when many thought that the deaths of young, gay men were a sign of God's wrath. The stakes were so high, the tension easy to draw upon. Still, it takes a skilled writer to craft a compelling story arc with diverse characters.


The Prettiest Star (Hub City Press, 2020) begins in New York City and I settled in, looking forward to reading about gay life in The Big Apple as AIDS crashes the party. Thus, I was startled when things soon shifted to small town Ohio, the story moving forward from the perspective of young Brian's mother, Sharon, and his fourteen-year-old sister, Jess. Sharon is deeply religious and the town is a conservative place where people rarely venture too far afield. (Sharon's never been on a plane.)


After a six-year absence, Brian writes a letter to his parents, saying he has AIDS and wants to come home—for how long, it's unclear. Neither Sharon nor Brian's dad, Travis, is keen on the idea. What will the rest of the family think? What will the town think? AIDS?! Is it even safe?


Author Carter Sickels does a masterful job in capturing the sentiment of the time—the fear, the ignorance and the sobering reality that being gay was still a source of great shame and hatred. He also shows that he has done his research on AIDS, describing how it overtakes Brian with specific symptoms and pride-busting humiliations.


Lettie, his grandmother who has always adored Brian (and who isn't given enough credit about things she knows), is a vital force, diving in and supporting Brian and offering a model of love and acceptance for the more tentative (and more torn) Sharon and Jess while also standing up to the hate from the people of her church and town. This isn't her story (nor is it that of Brian's brash NYC friend, Annie). Lettie and Annie are 100% Team Brian. They don't have much growing to to.


Brian though must come to terms with the death of his partner and his own full acceptance of being gay—it was so much easier in the city—while now having AIDS. Jess, a self-conscious teen, is often embarrassed by her brother whom she used to adore and follow like a puppy dog. It's hard for her to be noticed much less heard. Sharon, a preacher's daughter, has the most growing to do. She's got a husband who can't accept what Brian's become and who can't stand up to his loud, homophobic brother. Travis is basically AWOL. Sharon could lean on Lettie, but there's an undercurrent of jealousy there, Brian always seeming to have an easier relationship with his grandmother; she could confide in Annie, but Annie's just too out there, nothing like what anyone's used to in small town Ohio.


At times, I wanted more of Brian's voice. I suppose I hoped for more direct conversations between him and his mother, but Sickels opts for more realism than drama. Much of the ongoing tension within any family comes from all that remains unsaid. It's a challenge to write from three points of view (Brian, Sharon and Jess) and Jess's perspective feels a little too insightful for her age. Sure, many teens are "wise beyond their years," but even the way things are phrased doesn't sound like a teen's voice. It's a minor criticism when the story is so well told.


The Prettiest Star brings back to mind so many things I had forgotten about AIDS in the 1980s. To be sure, for a long time, I wanted to forget. Now, however, I need to remember and this novel helps to do just that in a compelling way.