It is my privilege to review this work written by our own Marcel. You may recall the CGM meeting at which he announced that he was embarking on a book project and was in need of volunteers to be interviewed for it. Marcel never pursued anyone in particular for inclusion in his book; all 33 men in the story stepped forward and agreed to be interviewed. I was one, and I told Marcel that he could use my real name. (Most participants did.)
The interviews took place over a number of weeks, usually during the CGM meeting time (due to the large number of CGM volunteers) but always off in a separate, private room. One interview was sufficient. Marcel did not ask for follow-up interviews, nor did he ever present galleys to participants for their inspection or review. After a long wait, the book was finally released this year and can be ordered either from the publisher (PublishAmerica.com; search for Lebrun) or from Amazon.com for $24.95.
Like local authors Lawrence Kinsman and Daniel Faulkner before him, Marcel attended the CGM Book Club meeting at which his book was featured. The discussion focused mostly around the structure of the book and his approach to writing it. Marcel noted that although he conducted the interviews personally, he had someone make transcripts of the interview tapes. He then constructed the chapters from these. His decision to not send galleys to the participants for their review was deliberate...he wanted the book to read like a real conversation with the participant, as though the reader were asking the same questions that he had asked.
I agree with his logic and he did succeed in making the book read as intended. However, there are inherent dangers in collecting data via unrehearsed interviews, having a third party transcribe it, and using the transcriptions as the final source of data. Errors can be introduced at any of these stages. For example, the very first sentence in my chapter claims that I was born in Indiana. Not so; I was born in Illinois. I’m sure I didn’t mention it, since my folks had moved to Indiana when I was 6, well before I had any kind of inkling of being gay. Thus, I probably said that I was raised in Indiana.
Upon my making this observation at the book club meeting, George noted that whether I was born in one Midwest state or its neighbor didn’t change a damn thing about me. I agreed but pointed out that a mistake like this begs a question. If I didn’t misspeak during the interview, then either Marcel or his transcriber took the liberty of transforming “raised” to “born.” If that kind of freedom is allowed, then what exactly is the problem with letting me review and correct the factual errors in my chapter? (There were a few more.)
Some other nits: After a while, you get a feel for what the interview questions were, and consequently, some paragraphs read more like essays than face-to-face conversations. For example, almost every chapter has a paragraph that begins, “What I would change about the U.S. is…” I felt that this distracted from Marcel’s goal.
Usually Marcel detects a thread in his subject’s story and stays with it. For example, men who have had certain religious experiences in their lives were obviously guided during the interview to continue with that topic. But from time to time, Marcel misses golden opportunities for follow-up, and these can be agonizing. Listen to this perfect specimen:
“I don’t have any homophobia. I don’t care for the out, gay screamers that give everyone else a bad name. They are a minority. It is like on the show Queer Eye for the Straight Guy; the blond guy is the faggiest of all of them, and he is the one that no one likes.”
I realize that it is very “back seat driver” of me to recognize the inherent contradiction here from the comfort of my easy chair. It might not have jumped out at me so neatly from a wooden bench with a ticking clock and a whirring recorder nearby. But then, why not a quick follow-up interview?
Curious spelling mistakes abound, like GLISTEN where Marcel clearly means GLSEN. Ouch!
Finally, I wish that the chapters gave less advice. Too often, a paragraph begins by using the pronoun “I” to tell the story, but then becomes “you” to tell me what I should learn from it. Each time this happens, my ability to infer is taken away. It’s almost as if, at the end of this book, I have 33 new therapists instead of 33 new friends. (I don’t grant myself a pass on this one!) I’m not necessarily sitting with these men in need of their support; perhaps I only want to hear their story. If so, allow me to infer life’s lessons on my own. What would I have replaced all that advice with? Definitely more sex. If every chapter had a paragraph that started with “My ultimate sexual fantasy is…” instead of “What I would change about the U.S. is…”, my earlier complaint would have been re-issued as praise!
Despite my nits, this book is a remarkably intimate portrayal of many of the men of CGM. I could actually hear their voices speaking as I read their stories. I could tell when they laughed and I laughed along with them. I found some stories breathtaking.
My favorite chapter? Micheil, age 47, one of the non-CGM subjects (I think). His must have been a delightful and animated interview. “I will not break the three-month rule.” That line had me in fits. This man is me in an evil alternate universe. Luckily, in this universe, I have learned to lighten up. At least I hope I have.
Should you buy this book? Enjoy your gift of inference!