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Richard E. Cytowic explores complicated relationship with father in new book

‘The Magician’s Accomplice’ touches on camp, ‘80s gay D.C., alcoholism

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3 months ago

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(Book cover image via Amazon)

Richard E. Cytowic, neurology professor at George Washington University, has written a memoir, “The Magician’s Accomplice: My Father and I in the Age of Anxiety,” about his complicated relationship with his father, Edmund R. Cytowic. “Big Ed,” also a doctor, was a larger-than-life figure who molded his family into a perfect image while hiding his drinking and drug use. In an interview edited for clarity, Dr. Cytowic spoke about magic as metaphor, memories, and gay life in D.C.

BLADE: What was your inspiration for writing this memoir? 

RICHARD CYTOWIC: It was something I felt I had to do. If I didn’t write it, I would go crazy. And it’s taken me about 10 years. It’s gone through many iterations. The first version started with my first day at Duke and had a dual narrative with myself as a young man, stumbling about making mistakes, and the older, wiser neurologist looking back on his younger self and commenting on it. That didn’t work out, but I realized the story was really about my father and me and our dynamic, how he shaped me to be just like him. At the time, I didn’t realize, because, when you’re too close to the material, you can’t see it for what it is. My sister’s observation in the memoir’s opening line, “Come hell or high water, you were going to be a doctor like him,” captures all my memories of him. And I am, I was.

BLADE: The interpretations you give some of your memories are striking. For instance, your family dancing onstage at a Liberace concert. From the outside it feels charming, yet there’s pain there.

CYTOWIC: It is an amusing anecdote. But it’s also sad because it shows we were all performers. We got up on stage effortlessly, we all knew our lines. We knew what to do, how to pose in front of 4,000 people, because we were Big Ed’s puppets for many years. And we just thought it was quite natural to perform because we had been doing this all our lives. 

BLADE: It’s striking how in that moment you saw yourself becoming a monster like your father, trying to be the center of attention. You told Liberace, “I have a piece ready to play if you want.”

CYTOWIC: And he said, “This is my show, Richard.” He saw that even at 10 years old, I was trying to take over the center stage. But that’s what we were taught. We were supposed to shine and perform and just be charming, in a way that made us totally false. My impetus for this memoir was to try to understand Big Ed. For stories like this where you have an alcoholic father out of control, it’s so easy for everybody to say, “Oh, my God, I hate him, I can’t stand him.” What I call “You son of a bitch, look what you did to me” stories, those are the easiest stories in the world to tell. But it doesn’t tell anything about the monster, so you have to ask: Was the monster hurt or lonely? Why did he act that way? What made him the way he was? Was there some original wound that he was acting out on himself? So, in the end, instead of a “You son of a bitch” story, it’s really a love story to Big Ed, trying to show some compassion to him and understanding what sort of creature he was.

BLADE: At one point you describe him as high camp. I wonder if you if you ever thought that he might have been gay or bisexual, if deeply closeted? 

CYTOWIC: I wonder that too. I don’t have any proof one way or the other, but he certainly was sexually very outspoken. He had all those nude orgy parties and took pictures all the time. I’m sure that goes on all the time now in D.C., but back then, it must have been very unusual. The fact that he could convince people to take part in all that, have them dress up in costumes and pose for pictures, you just have to laugh and think, wow, what a force of nature he was. And mentioning camp, he was camp in the sense of Susan Sontag’s definition, which is a singular incandescent figure who is one thing, an exaggeration, and that was him. He instilled in me a taste for the offbeat and the unusual. If something was normal, I wasn’t interested, but if it was a little off, that was attractive. 

BLADE: You mention being drawn to camp figures like Auntie Mame and Liberace. 

CYTOWIC: When I saw “Auntie Mame” at Radio City Music Hall, I was in the first grade, so I was five years old. I loved that movie so much because all that craziness was so familiar. Patrick making drinks in the morning, I did that. And my classmates and peers didn’t do anything like that, though it took a while to realize what an unusual life we were living, my mother, sister, and I with Big Ed. 

BLADE: The theme of magic and magic tricks runs through the book, which connects so much of life with your father and even your life outside. 

CYTOWIC: Magic is a real through line, because two things were prominent with Big Ed. One was the cameras. He had tons of cameras, and the other was the magic, which he did constantly. So would I. When we went to the lake in the summer, I would entertain neighbors and guests by putting on a big magic show. I even made up my own trick. As I say, magic is about telling people you’re going to fool them and then fooling them. Having them know what they’re seeing isn’t possible, and yet they believe it.

BLADE: It feels like such a perfect metaphor for your family. 

CYTOWIC: It’s the spectator’s ability to hold two different, contradictory perspectives at the same time. That’s what we did. On the outside, we were a lovely family, everybody would compliment us when we went out to dinner. Back then, with children in restaurants, everybody said, “Oh my god, they’re going to start screaming and running around,” and we were the opposite. My sister and I were dressed up, I had a little coat and clip-on tie. We cleaned our plates, which my father really liked. And then people would come over and compliment my parents on what lovely children they had. Even the proprietor would say, “Doc, your kids are welcome here anytime.” We went against expectations. Here’s this picture perfect little family, so sweet and lovable, and yet behind the scenes, it was absolute chaos. That was the magic, the illusion that we were this lovely family on the surface, while behind the scenes, all hell was breaking loose. 

My sister to this day still hates my father. Every time we talk about him, she says, “I hated him. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.” She’s frozen in her perspective, and I went instead and looked, to find out who he was, what made him kick? Why was he this way? How did he make me the way I am? And how did I emerge with my own personality? Also, in turning away from the “You son of a bitch” kind of approach and moving to one of trying to understand him, that’s the magic trick that that brings him back, like the dove that’s hidden, and then you produce some silk scarves and, abracadabra, the dove reappears again, all whole. 

BLADE: Your descriptions of gay life in D.C. during the ‘80s are fascinating. What’s been the biggest change in that world nowadays? 

CYTOWIC: When I came to D.C., you really couldn’t be out in a broad sort of way. So you cultivated a circle of friends, you learned to entertain and throw parties, you did fabulous things. There was a lot more cohesiveness in this world because we all protected one another. I was out but I didn’t make a big deal of it. And it was only when I interviewed for the position of chief resident of Neurology at GW, that it became well-known. I kept meeting people through the process, including David, a psychiatrist who was training to get his neurology certification. I went to his place and talked some more and felt so comfortable talking to him. He mentioned he and the woman he was seeing were going out that night and asked, “You want me to get a date for you?” I said, “Well, David, that’s very nice. Thank you, but I’m gay.” I didn’t realize that he would tell everybody so that when I finally accepted the job and showed up, everybody knew already that I was gay. It helped that there was a physician, an assistant Dean, in the department who was also gay. So we were naturally sympathetic to one another and he was very helpful. It really helped, too, that GW was, and still is, the gayest medical school in the country. If a student at another medical school had problems because he was gay, being bullied, he would transfer to GW. It became a magnet for medical students all over the country. Also, I remember thinking, I’m six blocks from the White House. It doesn’t get any better. At that time, D.C. was a very gay city, so it was easy to make friends and pick up tricks or whatever I wanted to do. 

The cell phone has ruined so much because you can’t get people to commit to anything. Instead of saying, “Let’s have dinner next Tuesday at 7:30,” they say, “Well, I don’t know what I might be doing. Something better might come along.” I don’t how people socialize anymore because it’s all so last minute. It drives me crazy. I used to throw sex parties in the ‘90s. I called them “office parties” because they were in my office. I took over from a group that socialized first, starting with drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and then they announced, “time to take off your clothes.” And I said, “No, you cannot mix a social setting with a sexual setting. It doesn’t work like that.” I took over, and set strict rules, one being, everybody arrives at the same time. You’ve got to be here between 8 and 8:15, or else the door is locked, and you’re not getting in. Because so many other parties had people showing up two hours after it started, when things got hot. If you make things hot from the get go, then everybody has a really good time. Now, I don’t know what people do. I’m out of the loop. My orgy days are over. 

BLADE: What do you hope readers will take away from “The Magician’s Accomplice?” 

CYTOWIC: How to be yourself. I learned how to be myself and not be at the mercy of other people’s expectations. I developed the attitude of, I don’t care what other people think, because their opinion doesn’t affect me one way or the other. So when I write something, I’m not trying to prove a point or convince people. I say, “Here’s what I know. Here’s what I’ve been through. Take a look if you find it useful.” Maybe my experiences will help you.  

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Books

‘Dogs of Venice’ looks at love lost and rediscovered

A solo holiday trip to Italy takes unexpected turn

Published

1 week ago

on

December 20, 2025

By

(Book cover image courtesy G.P. Putnam & Sons)

‘The Dogs of Venice’
By Steven Crowley
c.2025, G.P. Putnam & Sons
$20/65 pages

One person.

Two, 12, 20, you can still feel alone in a crowded room if it’s a place you don’t want to be. People say, though, that that’s no way to do the holidays; you’re supposed to Make Merry, even when your heart’s not in it. You’re supposed to feel happy, no matter what – even when, as in “The Dogs of Venice” by Steven Rowley, the Christmas tinsel seems tarnished.

Right up until the plane door closed, Paul held hope that Darren would decide to come on the vacation they’d planned for and saved for, for months.

Alas, Darren was a no-show, which was not really a surprise. Three weeks before the departure, he’d announced that their marriage wasn’t working for him anymore, and that he wanted a divorce. Paul had said he was going on the vacation anyhow. Why waste a perfectly good flight, or an already-booked B&B? He was going to Venice.

Darren just rolled his eyes.

Was that a metaphor for their entire marriage? Darren had always accused Paul of wanting too much. He indicated now that he felt stifled. Still, Darren’s unhappiness hit Paul broadside and so there was Paul, alone in a romantic Italian city, fighting with an espresso machine in a loft owned by someone who looked like a frozen-food spokeswoman.

He couldn’t speak or understand Italian very well. He didn’t know his way around, and he got lost often. But he felt anchored by a dog.

The dog – he liked to call it his dog – was a random stray, like so many others wandering around Venice unleashed, but this dog’s confidence and insouciant manner inspired Paul. If a dog could be like that, well, why couldn’t he?

He knew he wasn’t unlovable but solo holidays stunk and he hated his situation. Maybe the dog had a lesson to teach him: could you live a wonderful life without someone to watch out for, pet, and care for you?

Pick up “The Dogs of Venice,” and you might think to yourself that it won’t take long to read. At under 100 pages, you’d be right – which just gives you time to turn around and read it again. Because you’ll want to.

In the same way that you poke your tongue at a sore tooth, author Steven Rowley makes you want to remember what it’s like to be the victim of a dead romance. You can do it here safely because you simply know that Paul is too nice for it to last too long. No spoilers, though, except to say that this novel is about love – gone, resurrected, misdirected – and it unfolds in exactly the way you hope it will. All in a neat evening’s worth of reading. Perfect.

One thing to note: the Christmas setting is incidental and could just as well be any season, which means that this book is timely, no matter when you want it. So grab “The Dogs of Venice,” enjoy it twice with your book group, with your love, or read it alone.

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Books

The best books to give this holiday season

Biographies, history, music, and more

Published

2 weeks ago

on

December 13, 2025

By

(Book cover images via Amazon)

Santa will be very relieved.

You’ve taken most of the burden off him by making a list and checking it twice on his behalf. The gift-buying in your house is almost done – except for those few people who are just so darn hard to buy for. So what do you give to the person who has (almost) everything? You give them a good book, like maybe one of these.

Memoir and biography

The person who loves digging into a multi-level memoir will be happy unwrapping “Blessings and Disasters: A Story of Alabama” by Alexis Okeowo (Henry Holt). It’s a memoir about growing up Black in what was once practically ground zero for the Confederacy. It’s about inequality, it busts stereotypes, and yet it still oozes love of place. You can’t go wrong if you wrap it up with “Queen Mother: Black Nationalism, Reparations, and the Untold Story of Audley Moore” by Ashley D. Farmer (Pantheon). It’s a chunky book with a memoir with meaning and plenty of thought.

For the giftee on your list who loves to laugh, wrap up “In My Remaining Years” by Jean Grae (Flatiron Books). It’s part memoir, part comedy, a look back at the late-last-century, part how-did-you-get-to-middle-age-already? and all fun. Wrap it up with “Here We Go: Lessons for Living Fearlessly from Two Traveling Nanas” by Eleanor Hamby and Dr. Sandra Hazellip with Elisa Petrini (Viking). It’s about the adventures of two 80-something best friends who seize life by the horns – something your giftee should do, too.

If there’ll be someone at your holiday table who’s finally coming home this year, wrap up “How I Found Myself in the Midwest” by Steve Grove (Simon & Schuster). It’s the story of a Silicon Valley worker who gives up his job and moves with his family to Minnesota, which was once home to him. That was around the time the pandemic hit, George Floyd was murdered, and life in general had been thrown into chaos. How does someone reconcile what was with what is now? Pair it with “Homestand: Small Town Baseball and the Fight for the Soul of America” by Will Bardenwerper (Doubleday). It’s set in New York and but isn’t that small-town feel universal, no matter where it comes from?

Won’t the adventurer on your list be happy when they unwrap “I Live Underwater” by Max Gene Nohl (University of Wisconsin Press)? They will, when they realize that this book is by a former deep-sea diver, treasure hunter, and all-around daredevil who changed the way we look for things under water. Nohl died more than 60 years ago, but his never-before-published memoir is fresh and relevant and will be a fun read for the right person.

If celeb bios are your giftee’s thing, then look for “The Luckiest” by Kelly Cervantes (BenBella Books). It’s the Midwest-to-New-York-City story of an actress and her life, her marriage, and what she did when tragedy hit. Filled with grace, it’s a winner.

Your music lover won’t want to open any other gifts if you give “Only God Can Judge Me: The Many Lives of Tupac Shakur” by Jeff Pearlman (Mariner Books). It’s the story of the life, death, and everything in-between about this iconic performer, including the mythology that he left behind. Has it been three decades since Tupac died? It has, but your music lover never forgets. Wrap it up with “Point Blank (Quick Studies)” by Bob Dylan, text by Eddie Gorodetsky, Lucy Sante, and Jackie Hamilton (Simon & Schuster), a book of Dylan’s drawings and artwork. This is a very nice coffee-table size book that will be absolutely perfect for fans of the great singer and for folks who love art.

For the giftee who’s concerned with their fellow man, “The Lost and the Found: A True Story of Homelessness, Found Family and Second Chances” by Kevin Fagan (One Signal / Atria) may be the book to give. It’s a story of two “unhoused” people in San Francisco, one of the country’s wealthiest cities, and their struggles. There’s hope in this book, but also trouble and your giftee will love it.

For the person on your list who suffered loss this year, give “Pine Melody” by Stacey Meadows (Independently Published), a memoir of loss, grief, and healing while remembering the person gone.

LGBTQ fiction

For the mystery lover who wants something different, try “Crime Ink: Iconic,” edited by John Copenhaver and Salem West (Bywater Books), a collection of short stories inspired by “queer legends” and allies you know. Psychological thrillers, creepy crime, cozies, they’re here.

Novel lovers will want to curl up this winter with “Middle Spoon” by Alejandro Varela (Viking), a book about a man who appears to have it all, until his heart is broken and the fix for it is one he doesn’t quite understand and neither does anyone he loves.

LGBTQ studies – nonfiction

For the young man who’s struggling with issues of gender, “Before They Were Men” by Jacob Tobia (Harmony Books) might be a good gift this year. These essays on manhood in today’s world works to widen our conversations on the role politics and feminism play in understanding masculinity and how it’s time we open our minds.

If there’s someone on your gift list who had a tough growing-up (didn’t we all?), then wrap up “I’m Prancing as Fast as I Can” by Jon Kinnally (Permuted Press / Simon & Schuster). Kinnally was once an awkward kid but he grew up to be a writer for TV shows you’ll recognize. You can’t go wrong gifting a story like that. Better idea: wrap it up with “So Gay for You: Friendship, Found Family, & The Show That Started It All” by Leisha Hailey & Kate Moennig (St. Martin’s Press), a book about a little TV show that launched a BFF-ship.

Who doesn’t have a giftee who loves music? You sure do, so wrap up “The Secret Public: How Music Moved Queer Culture from the Margins to the Mainstream” by Jon Savage (Liveright). Nobody has to tell your giftee that queer folk left their mark on music, but they’ll love reading the stories in this book and knowing what they didn’t know.

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Books

‘90s club kids will love Mark Ronson’s new book

‘Night People’ part esoteric hip-hop discography, part biography

Published

3 weeks ago

on

December 7, 2025

By

‘Night People’
By Mark Ronson
c.2025, Grand Central
$29/256 pages

You just can’t hold still.

The music starts and your hips shake, your shoulders bounce, your fingers tickle the sky to match a beat. Your air guitar is on-point, your head bops and your toes tap. You can’t help it. As in the new memoir, “Night People” by Mark Ronson, you just gotta dance.

With a mother who swanned around with rock bands, a father who founded a music publishing company, and a stepfather who founded the band, Foreigner, it was natural that Mark Ronson would fall into a music career of some sort. He says he was only 10 years old when he realized the awesome power of music.

As a pre-teen, he liked to mix music in his stepfather’s studio. As a teenager, he formed a band with Sean Lennon that didn’t quite catch on. In the fall of his senior year of high school, Ronson began sneaking into Manhattan clubs to listen to music, dance, and find drugs. It was there that he noticed the alchemy that the DJs created and he searched for someone who’d teach him how to do that, too. He became obsessed.

Finding a gig in a New York club, though, was not easy.

Ronson worked a few semi-regular nights around New York City, and at various private parties to hone his skills. His mother purchased for him the electronic equipment he needed, turntables, and amps. He befriended guys who taught him where to get music demos and what to look for at distributor offices, and he glad-handed other DJs, club owners, and music artists.

That, and the rush he got when the dance floor was packed, made the job glamorous. But sometimes, attendance was low, DJ booths were located in undesirable places, and that totally killed the vibe.

Some people, he says, are mostly day people. For others, though, sunlight is something to be endured. Nighttime is when they when they feel most alive.

Part esoteric hip-hop discography, part biography, part SNL’s Stefan, and part cultural history, “Night People” likely has a narrow audience. If you weren’t deep into clubbing back in the day, you can just stop here. If you were ages 15 to 30, 30 years ago, and you never missed club night then, keep reading. This is your book.

Author Mark Ronson talks the talk, which can be good for anyone who knows the highs of a jam-packed club and the thrill of being recognized for skills with a turntable. That can be fun, but it may also be too detailed: mixology is an extremely heavy subject here. Many of the tunes he names were hits only in the clubs and only briefly, and many of the people he name-drops are long gone. Readers may find themselves not particularly caring. Heavy sigh.

This isn’t a bad book, but it’s absolutely not for everyone. If you weren’t into clubbing, pass and you won’t miss a thing. If you were a die-hard club kid back then, though, “Night People” will make your eyes dance.

Want more? Then check out “What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Weirder and Harder to Relate To” by Mary Lucia (University of Minnesota Press). It’s Lucia’s tale of being a rock DJ in Minneapolis-St. Paul, life with legions of listeners, and not being listened to by authorities for over three harrowing, terrifying years while she was stalked by a deranged fan.

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