The Music of Your Life: Stories

by John Rowell

Book Overview

With a voice that is both sophisticated and deeply Southern, author John Rowell evokes the memory of the great Truman Capote in this wonderful collection of short stories, peopled with unforgettable, endearing characters and filled with wry insights.

Drawn from the emotional well of a young man who grew up in love with the glittery, glamorous world of music and movies and theater--far removed from his own more prosaic life in North Carolina--and...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0743258037
• ISBN13: 9780743258036
• Release Date: June 2004
• Publisher: Simon & Schuster
• Length: 272 Pages
• Weight: 0.55 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.7" x 5.5" x 8.5"

Customer Reviews

Charming and Nostalgic, Southern and Sophisticated

One of the most enchanting books of gay short fiction around by a talented writer originally from the South. All seven stories in this collection are delightful, but three, in particular, stand out as masterpieces for this reader. In the title story, a long tale narrated in the second person point of view, a young boy conjures up a thrilling view of his parents' relationship with the help of the affected glamour of "The Lawrence Welk Show." In "Spectators in Love," a film critic reviews his life through a prism of his favorite cinematic moments: seeing "Mary Poppins" as a young boy with a rising interest in musical comedy, viewing "Cabaret" as a sexually-conflicted young man in high school, and seeing the cultish "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" with his straight college buddy. In lesser hands, this story could have been over-the-top campy or just outright elusive to an unsympathetic reader, but Rowell's great achievement is his ability to recognize the allure and significance of a few great movie moments and their power and influence on the impressionable narrator of the story. Ditto "Who Loves You?," my favorite story in the book, a flashback tale that recounts the backstage story of a memorable "I Love Lucy" episode and the misadventures of one of its unbilled "cameo" stars. While the concept behind this backstage moment is pure genius, the true heart of the story arrives years later when the older narrator must revisit his memories of it to appease a young relative and his new boyfriend. This is a truly exceptional work, full of charm and nostalgia, and I look forward to reading more from Rowell.

Talk about well written!

Though they are gay-oriented, the stories are fairly universal in theme, mostly dealing with kids who know all-too-well they've failed to live to up "expectations". Most of them are longer than a conventional short story; Mr. Rowell does at times get a tad bogged down in detail. But that's okay. I put them down at those points and picked up the action without a problem later. The author has a great sense of being funny without going over the top and making a serious point without becoming soppy about it.I'm eagerly awaiting the next collection of Mr. Rowell's work.

An Impressive Debut!

"You're ten years old. It's summertime. And you have Lawrence Welk damage." You just know that a short story with that for an opening line has to be outstanding. And it certainly is. In the title story, one of seven in this first collection of stories by John Rowell, the narrator is a ten year old boy growing up in North Carolina who at that early age understands all too clearly what it means to be different. As do many gay children, he learns quickly to hide his true feelings. He would rather read "Photoplay" magazine than play baseball. He thrives in the classroom-- the teachers love him-- "But then there's the playground." The story certainly cut to the bone as I read this youngster's account of getting way out in the outfield in a ball game so that he will be far away from any flyball. It all sounded too, too familiar. The other stories in this remarkable first book are just as good. I particularly liked "Saviors." "Jean Nimocks Sloops is a woman on a mission." She tries to match up her divorcing niece Bitsy Nimocks Evans with the bachelor church organist. She invites both of them to her "antique infested" home for tea and like so many heterosexuals doesn't have a clue as to why the church organist has never married.The endings of both these stories are quite amazing. Unlike many short stories that are little more than character sketches, these stories actually go somewhere.Mr. Rowell got endorsements from a lot of people whose writing I admire, one reason I bought his book: Jill McCorkle, Mark Childress, Stephen McCauley, David Ebershoff, Lee Smith.These most impressive stories will not disappoint you.

The Sensitive Boy We Know And Love Becomes A Protagonist

From the top of the first of seven short stories in this wonderful collection, I immediately recogonized this sweet funny sensitive young boy who appears with various names and ages throughout the stories. As if a mirror was being held up to my own childhood, despite the many differences, I instantly knew this little boy and his humor, his references, his isolation, the moments of estrangement from his family and community, and down deep his fear. I was lapping up every single word as if it were the first time I had ever read something so familiar and close to me in print. The stories are full of innocence, hopes, fears, ambition, and regret; all told with humor, wit, and sometimes heartbreaking sadness. The music of John Rowell's short stories is the very music that makes up all of our lives, especially those of us who were sweet funny and sensitive young boys.

Heartbreaking and Hilarious

Few short story collections, let alone a debut set, are as thematically developed as The Music of Your Life. Each of the stories centers upon an early mid-life assessment, touching on emotional perplexities that have more to do with meanings than plot, with consequences rather than choices. To be sure, there are familiar issues from gay life fictional and lived: gay adults dealing with their parents, early loves found and lost, the awkwardness of being unpartnered when middle age is closer than youth. What makes Rowell's writing fresh, though, are two incredible talents: the first is an ability, through dialogue (both internal and spoken), to create very complete lives and worlds for these characters. The characters voices are distinct, honest, and convincing. His second gift is his ability to convey the complex paradoxes of those characters in ways that are both heartbreaking and hilarious. Rowell juxtaposes the Lawrence Welk Show and the Batman television show, displaying two sides of one boy in the 1960s, one for whom it was natural to imagine being tied up with the Caped Crusaders as easily as singing standards with Miss Jo Stafford. I literally laughed aloud by page 4. Rowell conveys several aspects of growing up gay (at least, for the times of the 1960s and 1970s) in a visceral way: it's one thing to know we get along better with adults than children, but it's another to feel it. By the time I reached the conclusion of the first story (written in the second person, a verboten voice to match a hidden interior experience - one in which the narrating child envisions his life as a television talk show, with him as the host, or a radio program coming to you live from the Hotel Astor), I saw all too clearly the relevance of the title "The Music of Your Life," which made me cry. I continued to laugh and cry, in almost equal proportion, throughout the rest of the book.As a writer, I have always found titles to be very difficult to manage; they have to say so much, yet reveal so little; they're sort of like haikus. Rowell's titles haunt me. I keep returning to one story in particular. "Who Loves You?" Again, the plot (which sounds a bit contrived) is secondary to the characters. I can't explain fully without ruining the fun for those who haven't read the story, but in 1954, as Arthur and Willie (the narrator), are in bed, about to drift off to sleep. From page 83:***He turns over and looks at me. "Hey, Willie... who loves you?" he whispers, and it always makes me smile when he says that, even if I'm ticked off. Usually, I don't answer him, I just let the words hang there in the air for a second or two. He probably doesn't think I appreciate it enough, that he says that to me, and maybe I don't, or maybe I just don't show it, but inside I really am glad he keeps saying it. I'm more glad for this than for anything else, if I'm being honest. And then he sings his own words to the Lucy tune, which is so corny, even I can see that, and I'm from the damn