I haven't read this yet, but I found an inexpensive second copy so here it goes. I've read some of Mordden's other books about the same set of characters (see journal entry here) and enjoyed them very much; I expect this one will be great, too. [And the cover's easy on the eyes, which doesn't hurt!]

*** Later: This is the third in Mordden's wonderful "Buddies" series (following "I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore" and "Buddies"), and while it started slowly [with a tale-within-a-tale that did not feature Mordden's usual cast of characters], it came together beautifully.

As with the previous books, this one's composed of a series of stories, most of them featuring the same set of characters. There are flashbacks, fantasy interludes, even a ghost story, and a very touching tale called "I Read My Nephew Stories," in which Bud visits his brother's family; none of the other regular characters appear, and the story focuses on Bud himself, his relationship with his family, and some aspects of being an author - and all of these things will tie in to the other stories before the end of the book.

I open my spiral notebook and pursue the tale of the moment - about, as usual, things I have seen, done, said. I have got to try writing fiction... I do not want to write anymore about people I know, people with feelings that I have been tricked into sharing. I should write books like those I read to Toby, set in fabulous places among bizarre creatures. You can say anything you want to in such tales and no reader will wonder who you are.

And:

Writers have a hundred dodges but a thousand revelations. Every so often, some of my friends ask pettishly why I never write about them. 'But I do,' I respond, as nicely as possible. Then they grow uneasy.

After all the intense self-analysis and fear of intimacy revealed in that chapter, the next story is blessedly light; Little Kiwi's newest project has to do with taping old movies on his new VCR, and the gang stands ready with suggestions.

"The Broadway Melody," I offered.
"The Grapes of Wrath," Dennis Savage added.
"The Boys in the Sand," Carlo recalled.
"And Tigers in Connecticut!" said Little Kiwi.
The company was baffled. Even Bauhaus, Little Kiwi's incompetent dog, appeared bemused.
"That one where Katharine Hepburn has a tiger and she loves Cary Grant," Little Kiwi explained. "So then she wrecks his dinosaur."
"Bringing up Baby," said Dennis Savage.
"And it isn't tigers," I added, "it's leopards."
"That one goes right on my list!" Little Kiwi cried. "This is a pad of classics, you know."

The book ends on a lovely note, and proclaims itself to be "the utmost of my report" - but since then Mordden's written another book about this (real? I would like to hope so) family of characters, "All Men are Lookers". I'm almost afraid to start that one because I don't want to reach the end...

[Mordden's style is dreamy and a little distant. As he proclaims in the very first story in the very first book, he's into observing life and recording it. Funny thing - in this book, just as I was thinking to myself, "How do his friends stand it, him making notes on everything they do" - I came across a passage where he wrote about his friends calling him on that very thing. I do love Mordden!]

Released on Thursday, June 12, 2003 at Club Cafe, 209 Columbus Ave. in Boston, Massachusetts USA.

I plan to leave the book in the cafe this afternoon as part of a Gay Pride release. (Haven't been there before so I don't know how this will go!) [Click here for info on Boston's Pride activities.]

*** Left the book as planned. The cafe's a very nice one, although I got there in early afternoon when it was effectively empty. Had a wonderful prosciutto/tomato/basil sandwich, though, and will definitely stop by again next time I'm in the neighborhood.