Although I was not searching, I have found in Last Summer the antonym to At Swim, Two Boys. Whereas the latter was a story so heartbreakingly sad that you almost despised the book for it, the former is so incredibly happy that you come to feel that this is not only fiction, but fluff. Unfortunately, unlike last month’s fluffy Bourbon Street Blues, which was very proud to be fluff, Last Summer is to be taken seriously. I’m not sure that I can. However, if I had read this in the early 90s when I was coming out, my review would have been hugely positive. Age has helped me recognize fantasy when I see it, and that’s what this is.
Pretend that you’ve just seen Last Summer, the play. There isn’t one, but pretend that there is and that it follows the book perfectly. I will describe the curtain call for you, and the subsequent applause.
Since Ford himself would have choreographed the curtain call, he would naturally begin with the “bad” people. These are the characters that provide the necessary but unfortunate “conflict” in the story. Because they are bad, they are not invited to the final Labor Day barbecue. These include Doug, Karla, Toby’s parents, Raymacher, Donna, Aaron, and a spotlight on Devin. Thunderous applause; these folks are real and I wish I could have seen more of them.
Next from behind the curtain come good people who played only minor roles in the grand design. These include Ben and Ted, Ryan, Bart and some others. Mild applause for their supporting and otherwise unremarkable roles.
Next out is Marly and Garth to take their expertly executed bows; the applause is strong but measured. The need for an affair to “stoke the fire” is an interesting one, and the painting scene was well played. The writing for these characters was strong, but again, the ending is too easy.
Next out is Emmeline, her mother, and Toby, which gets the strongest applause of all, an ovation indeed, but a seated one. Emmeline is the best character in the book; enough said. Toby is the barefoot 18-year-old boy-next-door who’s most important role is to be caught up in the moment and engage in the pinnacle of unsafe sex. Amazingly, Ford believes that a negative HIV result, from a test taken within days of the bad encounter, implies that you got lucky and didn’t get infected. That may be true, but Ford should know better.
Taking their bows next are Reid and Ty, who get polite applause. These two should never have been afforded the luck they continued to find. And since when are celebrity interviews conducted live?
Jackie comes out next for a solo bow to slightly more energetic but still polite applause. She runs a restaurant, she’s about to turn 40, she’s trying to live up to the expectations of a ghost, and she’s feeling her motherhood alarm clock running down. Hey, wishes do come true.
Reilly comes out next for his solo bow. Now here’s a complex character that ought to be a mess at the end. Nope. Happily ever after.
And finally, Josh steps out and takes a bow. Cheers come from those who find him cute, boos from the rest. Far and away one of the most simultaneously shallow and lucky people ever. I was begging for an accident or sterility or a pie in the face. Something to take the pompous double-standard smirk off his face. But no.
As the audience files out, they contemplate some other annoying issues. Isn’t the ocean side of Provincetown all dunes and airport? Ford must have meant to say that houses were along the harbor. Also, why does no character in this story worry about money? Isn’t P-Town an expensive place to live, let alone visit? And finally, are there Laundromats in P-Town? Isn’t fresh water always a problem there?
If you are in need a dizzyingly happy ending, this is your book. Enjoy.