Books
‘The Storm’ chronicles 15 painful years in the AIDS epidemic
Author Zyda on losing partner, coming to terms with cards life dealt him
Christopher Zyda has been picked on by Joan Rivers, resigned and un-resigned a day after quitting from a high-level job with Disney and given a (widely viewed on You Tube) University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) English Department commencement speech. Zyda, 58, who grew up in Porter Ranch in the San Fernando Valley, a conservative, upper-middle-class LA suburb, has played the piano since he was seven and enjoys CrossFit.
Growing up a Roman Catholic, Zyda drove his catechism teacher to distraction. A skeptical young man, he invented many lively sins to confess to the nun teaching them how to practice confession. On hearing his “sins,” the sister quickly kicked him out of the confessional.
Zyda’s parents wanted him to become a doctor. But from early on, Zyda’s ambitions lay elsewhere. In his heart he knew: English majors rule. Growing up near Hollywood, he wanted to write screenplays.
When he was a freshman at UCLA, Zyda jokes, “I came out to my parents and said ‘I want to be an English major.’”
Though Zyda knew he was gay when he was a teenager, he was closeted then. His first reveal was when he came out to his fraternity in 1984.
His (deceased) sister Joan, a journalist, was a lesbian. The Chicago Tribune fired her because she was gay.
At age 29, Zyda became a widower when Stephen, the first love of his life died from AIDS at age 41 in 1991. Stephen, who grew up in Washington, D.C., was an attorney and an economist. He attended Yale University, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Yale Law School.
Zyda met Stephen in 1984 at the Athletic Club Gym in West Hollywood. Stephen lived then in LA’s upscale Windsor Square/Hancock Park/Fremont Place neighborhood. Stephen was 33, Zyda was 21. Late last year, Zyda’s memoir “The Storm: One Voice from the AIDS Generation” was released. “The Storm” covers 15 years of Zyda’s life — 1983 to 1998 — from his first year living as an out gay man to his life in the aftermath of Stephen’s death. It offers “Searing and empowering reflections from a dark, defining era in LGBTQ+ history,” according to Kirkus Reviews.
“My story is just one of many stories from the AIDS generation,” Zyda writes in “The Storm.”
Yet, though written from his unique perspective, “The Storm” speaks to those who lived through the height of the AIDS epidemic and to young people who want to understand that time.
In a telephone interview, Zyda, who lives in the Hollywood Hills in LA and is married to Michael Wieland, spoke about his life and what it was like to write “The Storm.”
For decades after Stephen died, Zyda didn’t want to emotionally relive that part of his life. “For 26 years, those painful memories were buried,” Zyda said.
“I didn’t want to write about it,” Zyda said, “I didn’t think it would be that exciting. But friends got on me. My friend Karen wouldn’t give up.”
Zyda began writing in 2017. A group of his friends critiqued every chapter as he wrote. “I told myself that I’d have to write it in six months,” he said. “I wrote every Tuesday and Thursday night after dinner and for an entire day every weekend.”
“I travel a lot to the East Coast,” Zyda added. “If I was on an airplane for longer than two hours, I would write. If I didn’t have to work on business, I’d write in my hotel room.”
He wanted his memoir to come from his own experiences, so he didn’t read other AIDS memoirs.
At first, facing his memories was difficult. “When I started writing, I got a horrible cold. It lasted a long while.”
But his reading group kept after him to write more chapters. They couldn’t wait to read the chapters as fast as he could write them.
After a while, “I realized how much it helped me to put it on the page,” Zyda said. “It helped me to emotionally face my history.” Zyda completed a first draft of “The Storm” in 177 days – just under six months. “My husband was so supportive,” Zyda said, “even when I told him the memoir was about my first partner. And that I’d have to spend less time with him.”
Writing “The Storm” brought him back full circle. “I’d wanted to be a writer,” said Zyda, who graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s in English in 1984. Yet, he had to cast his dream aside to care for Stephen when he became ill from AIDS. In 1989, Zyda earned an M.B.A. from the UCLA Anderson School of Management.
In 1988, he began working as a summer intern with the Walt Disney Company. Zyda worked for Disney for 10 years, eventually becoming Disney’s Chief Investment Officer.
After leaving Disney, Zyda worked with Amazon as its assistant treasurer, treasurer and vice president and international CFO. In 2001, he joined eBay as its vice president of finance. In 2003, he became San Francisco-based Luminent’s senior vice president and CFO.
In 2007, Zyda launched Mozaic, LLC, a boutique Beverly Hills-based investment management firm. Today, he is Mosaic’s CEO.
Disney was “incredibly supportive” when Stephen was ill with AIDS, Zyda said. But he wasn’t covered under Zyda’s health insurance. (Disney didn’t offer benefits to same-sex couples then.)
At that time, LGBTQ people had few, if any, legal protections. People with AIDS, and their partners, were routinely shunned by their families, health care providers – sometimes, even friends.
Thousands and thousands – hundreds of thousands of people died from AIDS. “People disappeared,” Zyda said, “it was the AIDS vortex of insanity.”
Homophobia was still rampant in the 1980s and early 1990s. “My sister was crushed after she was fired by the Chicago Tribune because she was a lesbian,” Zyda said, “she had no legal recourse and she wouldn’t come out to my parents.”
Zyda came out to his parents when Stephen became ill with AIDS. His parents believed then that being gay was sinful. Because of their homophobia, he was estranged from his parents for a time. Later, his folks accepted his sexuality and they and Zyda had a loving relationship.
Stephen’s parents, Zyda said, fell completely into the “AIDS vortex of insanity.”
Stephen’s parents’ feelings about Stephen having AIDS and toward him were “tied to their religious morality, anger, shock, and fear,” Zyda said.
Not all of Zyda’s memories are painful. He and Stephen traveled, studied philosophy and engaged in rousing political debates. Stephen was a Republican – fiscally and socially conservative; Zyda was fiscally conservative and liberal on social issues. Today, he identifies as an independent.
Early in their relationship, Zyda and Stephen went to a benefit where Joan Rivers raised money to help people with AIDS. The couple deliberately sat in the front row – hoping that Rivers would pick on them. “It was great! She skewered us!” Zyda said. “Then, she gave us all the plants on the stage because we were such good sports.”
Zyda decries the homophobia of the Catholic Church. Yet, its core values of forgiveness and being a good person have remained with him.
“Writing this story helped me to come to terms with the hand of cards dealt me,” Zyda said. “There’s a ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ quality about my life.” “Overall, I’ve been forgiving and made the right choices,” he added.
Author Christopher Zyda’s ‘The Storm’ speaks to those who lived through the height of the AIDS epidemic and to young people who want to understand that time.
Books for Pride by various authors
c.2026, various publishers
$18.95 – $29.00
How many times have you marched so far this month? Seems like there’s always a reason to gather and walk during Pride, but save some time for yourself, too. You’ll want to reflect, rest, and read these great books about living your best Pride month.
No doubt, you’ve thought once or twice about stepping away from society as it is, and moving somewhere more accepting. So read “Qtopia: A Memoir of Love, Land, and Liberation” by Juda Bennett (University of Wisconsin Press, $18.95), the story of doing exactly that, and how it turned out.
Back in the ‘70s, Bennett fled the suburbs and all it represented, and went “back to the land,” to a commune named Lavender Hill. Some of the places he’d lived before then had promised way more than they delivered, but Lavender Hill was different – more rural, more open, more queer, much better. But you know all good things must end, and that includes “queer utopia.” The only thing left was to re-enter the mainstream, a journey unto itself, and one worth reading.
Speaking of memoirs, in “Gay Mormon Dad” by Chad Anderson, art by Remy Burke (Graphic Mundi, $21.99), you’ll read about Anderson’s life as a husband (to a woman), a father, and a man who seemingly had it all but it wasn’t right, and he wasn’t happy. He was gay, but acknowledging it, telling his family and his church family, could mean the loss of everything he loved. It’s a story that may be familiar to you, in some way, and it’s a quick read.
For most of his life, Joseph Osmundson dreamed about getting pregnant and having a family. The former didn’t happen and, as for the latter, as he writes in his memoir, “Spawning Season: An Experiment in Queer Parenthood” (Bloomsbury, $27.99) the journey for a gay man to become a father can have plenty of roadblocks.
When two women approach Osmundson to be a sperm donor, it appears that his ultimate dreams are about to come true. Things go swimmingly – until race enters the conversation. Are the words “donor” and “dad” the same? Read this powerful book, and think about it.
And finally, if parenthood as a gay person is something that’s a case of maybe-later, then “Good Morning Moon: A Snapshot of an American Family” by Brad Gooch (Harper, $29) is a book to find. It’s the story of late-life love, surrogacy, and identity as Gooch learns about himself as he learns to be a good Dad. This is a great book for older fathers, and anyone who’s on the parental fence, later in life.
If these great books aren’t enough for you, or if you’re looking for something different for Pride, then head to your favorite bookstore or library and ask the staff there to help you find your next best read. They’ve got a lot of books to put in your hands, a lot of sunny afternoons full of relaxing and promise, so march on out, get a new book, and happy Pride!
Books
David Archuleta on Mormon faith, ‘Idol,’ more in new book
Unique memoir details religious upbringing, coming out
‘Devout: Losing My Faith to Find Myself’
By David Archuleta
c.2026, Gallery Books
$29/290 pages
So just make up your mind already.
The decision is very much in your control – or, at least that’s how it’s supposed to be. It’ll be your future, your path, and seizing it may not just be necessary, but mandatory. It’s your life, and no one can live it for you. As in the new memoir “Devout” by David Archuleta, that goes for career and for love, too.
Born to parents who both had musical careers before they wed, David Archuleta remembers an early childhood growing up in a Hispanic Mormon community in Florida, where kin was always nearby. He was six when his parents moved the immediate family to Utah; the first thing he remembers about that is the snow, and how it was so cold, it burned.
Because music was in his blood, Archuleta grew up singing and dancing, often with his mother whom he calls “my rock.” It was his father, however, who encouraged him to perform; first, with a gentle push, then a shove toward a career Archuleta didn’t really want.
But he did want to make his father happy, so he went along with the contests, embarrassing meet-and-greets with stars, and uncomfortable introductions. Slowly, though, performing became more fun, and Archuleta made friends.
Meanwhile, back home, everything was breaking apart. A “family friend” whom Archuleta refuses to name accused his father of abuse. He was exonerated, but it affected the family’s closeness and they stopped being affectionate.
That was a painful backdrop to Archuleta’s soaring career, his appearances on Star Search, friendships with other rising stars, his runner-up spot on “American Idol,” tours, and recording contracts. His father kept pushing him.
But there was one thing missing.
Since he was a boy, Archuleta had known that he was attracted to men, but his Mormon faith taught him that that was unacceptable. Kissing, his abuelita said, was wrong. He tried hard to date girls, in the most chaste way. Anything past that was against God – and anything at all with a man was unthinkable.
Though it absolutely favors his personal life and dwells on it a bit too much, “Devout” strikes an otherwise nice balance between that, author David Archuleta’s career, his sexuality, and his faith. The latter two are loaded with controversy.
You don’t need to be Mormon to fully understand the faith part; Archuleta offers non-Mormons a brief education, so readers can see the importance of the Church’s teachings in his life and why he felt the need to abandon it as his understanding of his bisexuality grew. It’s emotionally raw and honest, but also so respectful that it almost bears re-reading. Such candor and the heart-on-his-sleeve tone you’ll sense are features in the entire book, alongside Archuleta’s family’s struggles and his learning to strike out alone.
It’s harmonious in more ways than one, and fans will be happy.
So, too, will anyone who wants a unique memoir with a dose of faith, or someone who’s an “American Idol”watcher. Find “Devout” and be sure to share. You won’t mind.
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Books
‘Mighty Real’ explores history of LGBTQ music
From Judas Priest to Whitney, something for every taste
‘Mighty Real: A History of LGBTQ Music, 1969-2000’
By Barry Walters
c.2026, Viking
$35/496 pages
Step, step, tap, back step.
Shimmy in a circle, left hand waving over your head, shake your tail feathers, repeat to the beat. Once there was a time when you could do any dance in your sleep, but it’s been a while. So read “Mighty Real” by Barry Walters, and see if your toes don’t tap.
Fifty-seven years after Stonewall, and here we are: LGBTQ musicians still face scrutiny for their sexuality because, says Walters, music isn’t created for gay listeners. No problem: LGBTQ artists and writers have often penned lyrics carefully in order to say what can’t be said, “coding” songs for gay audiences that straight (and ignorant) listeners can dance to and enjoy with apparent obliviousness.
Walters offers “just a few” examples.
Lou Reed sang about trans people in the late ‘60s and offered a rallying song for the Gay Liberation Front in 1972, the latter of which felt like a message to a then-11-year-old Walters. Janis Joplin claimed she was straight, but she had several girlfriends. Motown singers often offered sometimes-ambiguous lyrics.
John Lennon’s hand placement on the back cover of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band made Walters begin to understand that he was different from other boys.
David Bowie is on his list, of course, as is Bette Midler, Elton John, Donna Summer, and Queen. You’ll find Judas Priest here, Green Day, and punk music. The Village People are included in this book, also Grace Jones, Duran Duran, and Cher, Whitney, Melissa, Latifah, and the lyrics from several blockbuster movies.
Two of Prince’s band members were lesbians, and they heavily influenced his albums. Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out” cemented her position in LGBTQ culture, and Michael Jackson’s inclusion here takes much careful consideration.
Read about Olivia Newton-John and the B52s. And then there’s Sylvester, for whom Walters has a soft spot in his heart. Sylvester’s death still makes Walters cry.
In his preface, author and music writer Barry Walters points out that music is what you make it and that it’s interpreted differently by each individual. To that end, this book naturally consists of preferential history and personal opinions about singers, bands, albums, and songs.
Agree or disagree. That’s where much of the appeal lies in “Mighty Real.”
Here, Walters wraps his memories around his choices, giving readers room for their own views, memories, and list making. Music-loving readers might also be surprised to note who’s not on Walters’ list – there aren’t many country performers here, for example, and the overall list focuses entirely on music from roughly 1968 to the year 2000, mostly on the kinds of songs you’ll want at the club or party. Again, discuss, and curate your own playlist.
This is a hefty book, but the chapters are browse-able and generally short enough to read in under five minutes. It’s nostalgic, yet also serious in the history it presents. This is the kind of book you want to leave near your album collection, or wherever you get your tunes. But finding “Mighty Real” is your first step.
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