Bart Yates is a fresh face in the gay literary clambake. His debut novel was Leave Myself Behind, published in 2004. The Brothers Bishop (2006) is his second book. Although I haven’t read the first book, I don’t think that this is a sequel.
Nathan Bishop is a bitter party of one. He lives in the cottage he grew up in, a prime, secluded spot in Connecticut situated a mile’s walk from the Atlantic. He teaches remedial English at the local school and mostly escapes the ghosts of his past (and present) by sitting on the beach.
Nathan’s reclusive existence is rudely interrupted by a short-notice visit by his younger brother, Tommy. Tommy does not travel lightly: in tow are his fans, including partner-of-the-month Philip and newlywed couple Camille and Kyle. Camille appears to be aptly named for the hurricane: unpredictably capable of going from calm to violent with little warning. This isn’t great news for Kyle, who has eyes for Nathan.
If that weren’t unsettling enough, one of Nathan’s students, 15-year-old Simon, keeps showing up at the cottage where Tommy is sure to find him and add him to his entourage.
A good editor would have decided that this was enough plot activity for one book. Unfortunately, Yates didn’t get a good editor and retained a B-plot of an archeological dig near the cottage. In the end this served the following purposes: it made the book thicker and gave us an obese woman to contemplate. Indeed, between Cheri and Camille, one wonders whether Yates has a problem with women.
To be fair, no one in this novel stands out as a model citizen. The living males at least appear to have an excuse. Nathan is five when he and Tommy witness his mother choke to death. But then Dad transforms overnight into a monster who never relents, right to his deathbed. Why? I didn’t follow the psychological journey from loving father to permanent child abuser. It is possible that Nathan overstates bad-dad; Tommy interjects a light-hearted memory that Nathan has completely repressed. This appears to trigger more reminiscing, but Nathan recalls only one other (barely) happy memory.
Also troubling is the scene on the cliff: Tommy and Philip make out publicly, teenage boys scream obscenities, Nathan gets in their face to confront them. Boilerplate stuff, right? Tommy will be along to defend himself too, right? Nope, he apologizes for Nathan’s response. Why? To hit on the boys?
Despite my petty irritations with this book, I found it to be a gripping page-turner. Yates is already a better storyteller than Michael Thomas Ford, despite dialog that is at times painfully like Ford’s. That will work itself out with time, hopefully. At least Yates picked the best character as narrator (Nathan).
What this book does best is weave a superb tale of brothers. Observe Tommy’s responses to the worst that Nathan offers, particularly in the past. Tommy is a character who grows on you. His finale is either cowardice or the ultimate gift of love. Considering how badly Nathan behaves as the Tommy/Simon saga unfolds, I’m inclined to think it’s a little of both.
I wonder how dad would have been portrayed had the story been written with Tommy as narrator. That kind of after-the-story contemplation can only mean one thing: I enjoyed this book. You might too.