Great expectations, big letdown
NOVEL THOUGHTS

Jim Grimsley’s newest novel, Boulevard, is expected to be one of the biggest gay male book releases this year.

His past work, including Winter Birds, My Drowning and the sublime Dream Boy, has deservedly earned him a large following of readers and critics, and he is easily one of my favourite authors. For those who are unfamiliar with his work, his style is dark and yet hopeful, ugly yet beautiful, and always moving and very human. Well, almost always.

Much like Dream Boy, the central plot of Boulevard revolves around a young man discovering and exploring his sexuality. Newell leaves his grandmother and the small Alabama town he lives in to go to the "big city," in this case, New Orleans. The coming-of-age story has been done before and is becoming cliché, but Grimsley’s superb writing keeps it fresh and you can’t help falling for his charming and handsome hero.

With only enough cash in his wallet to pay for one month’s rent, some food and other essentials, Newell must rely on his wits, looks and determination to make this leap of faith work. After a failed first attempt at work, where he is fired after refusing the sexual advances of his boss, he lands a "dream" job as a cashier at a porn shop. His new boss is thrilled; the kid has talent and creativity, and his good looks and fresh ideas are drawing in the customers. Soon every dirty old man and hot stud wants a piece of Newell, both literally and figuratively.

What makes Newell different from the average good boy in a bad crowd is that he is seemingly in control of his life. Instead of being a helpless victim, he fits into the seedy crowd he surrounds himself with. He becomes a porn expert at the shop, gives head in public at bars, grows ever more confident, and even dabbles in recreational drugs with his new boyfriend/fuck buddy, Mark. And then there is the mysterious and dangerous Jack, a man who bears a marked resemblance to the porn star Newell obsesses over and who seems to be equally intrigued by Newell, New Orleans’ latest twinkie-du-jour. At this point, I am loving this book and thanking Grimsley, but somewhere in the middle of the book, he loses me. Several other plotlines are introduced, including one about Newell’s lesbian landlady who harasses her young female employee and another about Miss Sophia, a transgender co-worker whose seeming strength falls apart every weekend when she gives in to her alcohol addiction. Rather than enhancing the story, they detract from it and pull you away from the main plot, ultimately frustrating the reader.

Being familiar with Grimsley’s past oeuvre, I kept waiting for the emotional punch in the gut that was even hinted at in the blurb on the back cover. Without spoiling the ending, the shoe is dropped right at the end very suddenly, far too late and disjointed to be believable. It just didn’t fit with the rest of the novel and felt like more of an afterthought than the climactic ending it was supposed to be. After the big shock, we aren’t given the time to think about what it means, and how Newell is going to deal with it. Instead, it’s back to grandma to heal, save more money and start all over again. Full circle? Where is the hope for a better life, the beauty of love conquering hate or the heart that characterizes Grimsley’s works?

Perhaps the biggest disillusionment in Boulevard was not Newell’s but my own. An author that for me could do no wrong did. Instead, I guess I’ll reread Dream Boy, have a good cry and fall in love all over again.

- printed in Capital Xtra, Issue #105, Apr 26, 2002. Book cover by Algonquin Press of Chapel Hill.