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‘To Paradise’ is an unforgettable masterpiece

Hanya Yanagihara’s new novel consists of three novellas

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(Book cover image courtesy of Amazon)

‘To Paradise’
By Hanya Yanagihara
c.2022, Doubleday $32.50 / 720 pages

“To Paradise,” the new novel by Hanya Yanagihara, editor-in-chief of T: The New York Times Style Magazine and author of the bestselling novel “A Little Life,” is unforgettable.

Yanagihara, 47, an Asian American woman who was born in Los Angeles and grew up in Hawaii, is known for writing about queer (especially, gay male) characters.

Some in the LGBTQ+ community think that Yanagihara portrays queer characters as stereotypes! Others love Yanagihara’s work. Queer author Edmund White has compared “To Paradise” to Tolstoy’s “War and Peace.”

“To Paradise” is a “War and Peace”-like masterpiece.

But with Tolstoy, you know how things end — what happens to Pierre, Prince Andrew, Natasha and their families.

“To Paradise” consists of three novellas. It takes place over 200 years and features characters with the same names in different time periods and families.

It’s beautifully written. You’ll care about the characters. But, at the end, you won’t know what will happen to them.

The first novella “Washington Square,” is an homage to the Henry James novel with the same title, takes place in 1893 in Greenwich Village in New York. It is much like a James or Edith Wharton novel. It’s upper-crust families are preoccupied with status, wealth and ensuring that their children marry well.

In Yanagihara’s reimagining of American history, America didn’t become a unified nation of states after the Civil War.

In her imagining, after the war, America became a loosely connected set of territories. New York is in the territory called the Free States. In the Free States, both same-sex marriage and arranged marriages are legal.

David Bingham, who is gay and prone to “nervous troubles,” lives in a mansion with his grandfather. His grandfather is concerned that David will have difficulty finding a husband because of his “illnesses.” He arranges for David to marry Charles Griffith, a rich man. Charles falls in love with David.

But David doesn’t want to marry Charles. He loves Edward Bishop, a poor man who teaches music. David longs to escape from his grandfather — to live “in color.” He and Ed are set to go to California, where, unlike in the Free States, life is risky for gay people.

The second novella of “To Paradise,” “Lipo-Wao-Nahele,” is set in late 20th century New York in the same Greenwich Village mansion and in Hawaii.

In the first section of this novella, a paralegal, also, named David Bingham, lives with his wealthy lover, also named Charles Griffith.

David struggles with his conflicted feelings about Charles.

“He knew he should feel infantilized by how obviously unequal their life together was,” Yanagihara writes, “and yet he didn’t … it was a relief not to think.”

David grew up in Hawaii. He became estranged from his father, a descendent of Hawaiian royalty.

The second, and longest, section of this novella is in the form of a seemingly endless letter from David’s father to David. “To Paradise” is a gripping book. But reading this letter is like being a child traveling with your parents. You keep wondering: are we there yet?

“Zone Eight,” the third novella is set in 2093. It spans several decades (going back to the 2070s) over a serious of pandemics. New York is now Zone Eight and run by an authoritarian government.

There is no Internet, access to books is restricted and flies monitor conversations. Pandemic life in “Zone Eight” makes our COVID-19 era seem like carefree.

In “Zone Eight,” yet another Charles Griffith, a research scientist, tries to keep his granddaughter Charlie safe.

“Zone Eight,” is narrated by Charlie and by Charles. Charlie is in an arranged marriage to a gay man. At age 10, she became intellectually disabled from medication she received when she had a virus.

Charlie is an interesting character. She works at a lab and knows what’s going on in her life and world. She wants to be loved.

But Charlie’s voice is often flat and childlike. I can’t help but think that there’s some ableism in Yanagihara’s depiction of Charlie.

Despite this quibble, “To Paradise” is an enthralling book. It may make you cry or squirm, but you won’t stop reading it.

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Books

Two new books on dining out LGBTQ-style

Visit nightclubs, hamburger joints, and a bathhouse that feeds customers

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(Book cover images courtesy of the publishers)

‘What is Queer Food? How We Served a Revolution’
By John Birdsall
c.2025, W.W. Norton
$29.99/304 pages

‘Dining Out: First Dates, Defiant Nights, and Last Call Disco Fries at America’s Gay Restaurants’
By Erik Piepenburg
c.2025, Grand Central
$30/352 pages

You thought a long time about who sits where.

Compatibility is key for a good dinner party, so place cards were the first consideration; you have at least one left-hander on your guest list, and you figured his comfort into your seating chart. You want the conversation to flow, which is music to your ears. And you did a good job but, as you’ll see with these two great books on dining LGBTQ-style, it’s sometimes not who sits where, but whose recipes were used.

When you first pick up “What is Queer Food?” by John Birdsall, you might miss the subtitle: “How We Served a Revolution.” It’s that second part that’s important.

Starting with a basic gay and lesbian history of America, Birdsall shows how influential and (in)famous 20th century queer folk set aside the cruelty and discrimination they received, in order to live their lives. They couldn’t speak about those things, he says, but they “sat down together” and they ate.

That suggested “a queer common purpose,” says Birdsall. “This is how who we are, dahling, This is how we feed our own. This is how we stay alive.”

Readers who love to cook, bake or entertain, collect cookbooks, or use a fork will want this book. Its stories are nicely served, they’re addicting, and they may send you in search of cookbooks you didn’t know existed.

Sometimes, though, you don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen, you want someone else to bring the grub. “Dining Out” by Erik Piepenburg is an often-nostalgic, lively look at LGBTQ-friendly places to grab a meal – both now and in the past.

In his introduction, Piepenburg admits that he’s a journalist, “not a historian or an academic,” which colors this book, but not negatively. Indeed, his journeys to “gay restaurants” – even his generous and wide-ranging definitions of the term – happily influence how he presents his narrative about eateries and other establishments that have fed protesters, nourished budding romances, and offered audacious inclusion.

Here, there are modern tales of drag lunches and lesbian-friendly automats that offered “cheap food” nearly a century ago. You’ll visit nightclubs, hamburger joints, and a bathhouse that feeds customers on holidays. Stepping back, you’ll read about AIDS activism at gay-friendly establishments, and mostly gay neighborhood watering holes. Go underground at a basement bar; keep tripping and meet proprietors, managers, customers and performers. Then take a peek into the future, as Piepenburg sees it.

The locales profiled in “Dining Out” may surprise you because of where they can be found; some of the hot-spots practically beg for a road trip.

After reading this book, you’ll feel welcome at any of them.

If these books don’t shed enough light on queer food, then head to your favorite bookstore or library and ask for help finding more. The booksellers and librarians there will put cookbooks and history books directly in your hands, and they’ll help you find more on the history and culture of the food you eat. Grab them and you’ll agree, they’re pretty tasty reads.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

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Books

More books for Pride month

Another batch of not-to-miss reads for June

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(Photo courtesy of Terri Schlichenmeyer)

You’re going to be on your feet a lot this month.

Marching in parades, dancing in the streets, standing up for people in your community. But you’re also likely to have some time to rest and reflect – and with these great new books, to read.

First, dip into a biography with “Marsha: The Joy and Defiance of Marsha P. Johnson” by Tourmaline (Tiny Rep Books, $30), a nice look at an icon who, rumor has it, threw the brick that started a revolution. It’s a lively tale about Marsha P. Johnson, her life, her activism before Stonewall and afterward. Reading this interesting and highly researched history is a great way to spend some time during Pride month.

For the reader who can’t live without music, try “The Dad Rock That Made Me a Woman” by Niko Stratis (University of Texas Press, $27.95), the story of being trans, searching for your place in the world, and finding it in a certain comfortable genre of music. Also look for “The Lonely Veteran’s Guide to Companionship” by Bronson Lemer (University of Wisconsin Press, $19.95), a collection of essays that make up a memoir of this and that, of being queer, basic training, teaching overseas, influential books, and life.

If you still have room for one more memoir, try “Walk Like a Girl” by Prabal Gurung (Viking, $32.00). It’s the story of one queer boy’s childhood in India and Nepal, and the intolerance he experienced as a child, which caused him to dream of New York and the life he imagined there. As you can imagine, dreams and reality collided but nonetheless, Gurung stayed, persevered, and eventually became an award-winning fashion designer, highly sought by fashion icons and lovers of haute couture. This is an inspiring tale that you shouldn’t miss.

No Pride celebration is complete without a history book or two.

In “Trans History: From Ancient Times to the Present Day” by Alex L. Combs & Andrew Eakett ($24.99, Candlewick Press), you’ll see that being trans is something that’s as old as humanity. One nice part about this book: it’s in graphic novel form, so it’s lighter to read but still informative. Lastly, try “So Many Stars: An Oral History of Trans, Nonbinary, Genderqueer, and Two-Spirit People of Color” by Caro De Robertis (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill. $32.00) a collection of thoughts, observations, and truths from over a dozen people who share their stories. As an “oral history,” you’ll be glad to know that each page is full of mini-segments you can dip into anywhere, read from cover to cover, double-back and read again. It’s that kind of book.

And if these six books aren’t enough, if they don’t quite fit what you crave now, be sure to ask your favorite bookseller or librarian for help. There are literally tens of thousands of books that are perfect for Pride month and beyond. They’ll be able to determine what you’re looking for, and they’ll put it directly in your hands. So stand up. March. And then sit and read.

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a&e features

James Baldwin bio shows how much of his life is revealed in his work

‘A Love Story’ is first major book on acclaimed author’s life in 30 years

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(Book cover image courtesy of FSG)

‘Baldwin: A Love Story’
By Nicholas Boggs
c.2025, FSG
$35/704 pages

“Baldwin: A Love Story” is a sympathetic biography, the first major one in 30 years, of acclaimed Black gay writer James Baldwin. Drawing on Baldwin’s fiction, essays, and letters, Nicolas Boggs, a white writer who rediscovered and co-edited a new edition of a long-lost Baldwin book, explores Baldwin’s life and work through focusing on his lovers, mentors, and inspirations.

The book begins with a quick look at Baldwin’s childhood in Harlem, and his difficult relationship with his religious, angry stepfather. Baldwin’s experience with Orilla Miller, a white teacher who encouraged the boy’s writing and took him to plays and movies, even against his father’s wishes, helped shape his life and tempered his feelings toward white people. When Baldwin later joined a church and became a child preacher, though, he felt conflicted between academic success and religious demands, even denouncing Miller at one point. In a fascinating late essay, Baldwin also described his teenage sexual relationship with a mobster, who showed him off in public.

Baldwin’s romantic life was complicated, as he preferred men who were not outwardly gay. Indeed, many would marry women and have children while also involved with Baldwin. Still, they would often remain friends and enabled Baldwin’s work. Lucien Happersberger, who met Baldwin while both were living in Paris, sent him to a Swiss village, where he wrote his first novel, “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” as well as an essay, “Stranger in the Village,” about the oddness of being the first Black person many villagers had ever seen. Baldwin met Turkish actor Engin Cezzar in New York at the Actors’ Studio; Baldwin later spent time in Istanbul with Cezzar and his wife, finishing “Another Country” and directing a controversial play about Turkish prisoners that depicted sexuality and gender. 

Baldwin collaborated with French artist Yoran Cazac on a children’s book, which later vanished. Boggs writes of his excitement about coming across this book while a student at Yale and how he later interviewed Cazac and his wife while also republishing the book. Baldwin also had many tumultuous sexual relationships with young men whom he tried to mentor and shape, most of which led to drama and despair.

The book carefully examines Baldwin’s development as a writer. “Go Tell It on the Mountain” draws heavily on his early life, giving subtle signs of the main character John’s sexuality, while “Giovanni’s Room” bravely and openly shows a homosexual relationship, highly controversial at the time. “If Beale Street Could Talk” features a woman as its main character and narrator, the first time Baldwin wrote fully through a woman’s perspective. His essays feel deeply personal, even if they do not reveal everything; Lucian is the unnamed visiting friend in one who the police briefly detained along with Baldwin. He found New York too distracting to write, spending his time there with friends and family or on business. He was close friends with modernist painter Beauford Delaney, also gay, who helped Baldwin see that a Black man could thrive as an artist. Delaney would later move to France, staying near Baldwin’s home.

An epilogue has Boggs writing about encountering Baldwin’s work as one of the few white students in a majority-Black school. It helpfully reminds us that Baldwin connects to all who feel different, no matter their race, sexuality, gender, or class. A well-written, easy-flowing biography, with many excerpts from Baldwin’s writing, it shows how much of his life is revealed in his work. Let’s hope it encourages reading the work, either again or for the first time.

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