DAYS ANNA MADRIGAL (Tales of the City, 9)

There is a "no way!!!" moment at the end of "Mary Ann In Autmn" where the character named Cliff pulls a folded photograph of Mary Ann Singleton from his pocket. Inscribed, "To Cliff: Thanks for the memories! Mary Ann," it sent me scrambling back through the pages of "Sure of You" to be certain I wasn't mistaken, because something in me remembered the exact innocuous moment Mary Ann signed that picture. And, sure enough, there it was, really a throwaway moment in "Sure of You," but one which would come back in a big way.And it was there that I discovered, after years of reading this series of novels, that there is something beyond Maupin's ability to draw amazingly realized characters, settings and themes that attracts me on a deeper level to his writing. That is his penchant for coincidence, or coinkydink, of which he says there is no such thing. And yet, it turns up time and again. And again. And again. The first novels of the series, being published serially, relied on coinkydink to move the stories along. Maupin's later novels are peppered with coinkydink--Ned Lockwood's fate revealed in "Maybe the Moon," Anna Day as Gabriel Noone's bookkeeper in "The Night Listener," Gabriel Noone himself popping up in cameo in "Mary Ann In Autumn," these are all momentary coinkydinks that make the reader feel as if they are in on the joke.And so, here we have "The Days of Anna Madrigal," the supposedly final tale of the city (although, that is probably as much debatable as "Sure of You" was the final tale of the city or "Michael Tolliver Lives" was not intended to be a tale of the city). And we have a novel that relies on conkydink just as surely as all Maupin's novels do. Only this spin around the block doesn't make any bones about it. There is no such thing as coinkydink, a minor character tells us, in the midst of one of the novel's biggest coinkydinks. It's a self-referential moment that almost pokes fun at the entire series of novels while commenting on one of their biggest attractions. And that's okay. After 38 years this series has earned the right to be self-referential.And there is no end of self-reference in this novel, which brilliantly balances its connection with its past alongside major revelations about its title character. It is this sort of balancing act that makes Maupin so ultimately readable. But it may also work against first-time readers of, or even dabblers in, Maupin's fiction. This novel begs you to know its history, even as it pours out more of that history. While there is a wonderful surface story here, the story of Andy Ramsey at age 16 contrasting with the story of Anna Madrigal at age 92, it is what's beneath the surface that matters in this novel, and I don't think that can be fully realized without knowing what has gone before.Here we have Anna, in what she knows are her last days, taking a trip home to Winnemucca, Nevada, in order to make peace with a mysterious moment from her past. Getting her there is the task of Brian Hawkins and his new bride, Wren Douglas (a very welcome return from her too-brief appearance in "Significant Others"), and along the way we learn not only how Anna chose her name (if you thought it was because it was an anagram, she delightfully puts that notion to rest with a wonderful comment about blowing smoke...), but more importantly we learn why she has such a fondness for and affinity with Brian Hawkins. Anna's revealing the importance of their relationship to Wren is one of the novel's most tender and affecting moments, and I'm not ashamed to say it brought a tear to my eye. It's really the moment I was waiting for. Anna's "completion" in her relationships with the rest of her "children" has already been made in previous books, and Brian remained the only standout amongst them. This novel brings that relationship full-circle, and in a brief but delicately-crafted exchange, brings the closure that is needed, if, indeed, this is the final novel in the series. The subsequent reveal of the event in Anna's life that she needs to make peace with almost pales in comparison. But that is why I can't see this as a stand-alone novel. If you haven't read the novels that come before, that moment takes a backseat to the story of how Anna chose her name, and it IS a good and important story--I just don't think it's as important as Anna's closure with Brian. And so much of the novel is like this. So much can only be truly realized if you have the knowledge of what has gone before.How else can one truly grasp the significance of the group of boys from Stanford, including their "new chum" (read Edgar Halcyon) visiting the Blue Moon Lodge on the same night that Andy has his encounter with a half Mexican/half Basque boy with whom he is infatuated; the irony of Edgar Halcyon losing his virginity to someone he doesn't care about on the same night Andy refuses to lose his to someone he does care about; the parallels between Andy's conversation with Margaret about a valise and Anna's conversation with Edgar years later about Boris the cat? It's all lost if you don't have that background.And background is really what this novel is all about. It references ad-infinitim the past relationships of its major characters - Mary Ann and Brian, Mary Ann and Shawna, Shawna and Otto, Jake and Jonah, Brian and Connie, Mary Ann and Connie, Anna and Mona, Michael and Mona, Michael and Jon. Ironically, the one character it fails to mention altogether is Thack Sweeny, and this omission is all the more recognizable because Wren played a major part in Michael and Thack getting together those many years ago. It's a question left unanswered, but it's not the only one.The parallel story to Anna's visiting Winnemucca with Brian and Wren is that of the entire rest of the cast of characters visiting Burning Man in 2012. Each have their own reasons for being there, and each have great story arcs. Jake and his friends have built a wonderful art car in the form of a magnificent Monarch Butterfly intended to convey Anna through the throng at the festival, only be talked out of the idea by Selina and Margeurite, who finally, if all-to-briefly, actually play a part in moving the plot of a Maupin novel, their previous appearences being altogether completely ineffectual and ineffective. Shawna has a life-altering plan that will both endear her to and distance her from Michael and Ben, and Michael and Ben...well, what can be said? They have actually been the center of the previous two novels. In "Michael Tolliver Lives" we learned all about Michael's insecurity about his relationship with Ben and how he overcame it. In "Mary Ann In Autmn" conversations with Mary Ann brought forth Michael's insecurity about his relationship with Ben, and he overcame it all over again. And here, the concept of running around in the sexually liberated atmospehere of Burning Man brings out Michael's insecurity about his relationship with Ben, and I guess it's fine if you're a first time reader, but if you've experienced all the history, you're ready to take a cast iron frying pan to Michael's head. Even Ben has had enough. "How many times do I have to marry you before you get it?" Ben asks, conveying what all the rest of us are feeling.The novel has an emotional climax, that actually has nothing to do with Anna Madrigal, and I have to admit I was brought to tears. But, there is a last minute reprieve, wherein it feels like Maupin in a desperate re-write, remembered what the novel was supposed to really be about, and so it ends with the literary equivalent of a question mark. And that's not a bad thing, it just doesn't feel right. For a novel that is supposed to be the end of things, it leaves too many doors open. But, perhaps that's the message. At one point, Anna observes that life is not tidy. And so it is probably fitting that this novel fails to offer a tidy ending. Anna thinks for a moment, "I wish we were all back at Barbary Lane. Just for an hour or two. The whole family. Sitting in the garden and telling our stories." It's the wish every reader of this series has, and every reader of this series knows cannot happen. The fact of the matter is, there is no more 28 Barbary Lane, and there's no going back. It's a wistful dream in an untidy reality.But for those of us who've been there, if only in our dreams, if only in the words Maupin has put on paper, 28 Barbary Lane doesn't have to be an actual place. Without wanting to sound cliché, 28 Barbary Lane is a state of mind. It's the place where we can always come home to and be welcomed by the loving arms of a grande dame, who wants nothing more than to hear our stories. It's the place where we feel "home" because it is the culmination of all our hopes, all our fears, all our triumphs, all our regrets and all our love. I like to believe that, and for that reason "The Days of Anna Madrigal" remains a worthwhile novel. It feels like coming home.

Once upon a time there was a magical city called San Fransisco. This was before the monsters and space aliens and super villains all rotated through for their free shot at the Golden Gate Bridge.This San Fransisco was a city of love, friendly casual drugs, sex as exercise or as tenderness, and infinite tolerance for all of the strange, mostly nonviolent variations found in humans. Armistead Maupin was the author of this place and in a series of books, originally written as a newspaper column we came into a lotus eater's entrancement. The still quiet center of this mythical place was a boarding house and more particularly its landlady: Anna Madrigal.Using a combination of humor, clever plotting and a sincere desire to share with the reader the character of interesting and likable people, I among millions of others found ourselves wishing there was this place and these people. As Maupin added to his Tales of the City books he would add in some of the darker realities, always few blocks from Ms Madrigal's. There was cancer, and religious villainy; un-happy love, creepy commercialism and child abuse. Through it all Anna Madrigal, sometime with the help of her home grown strains of Marihuana was the hip, thoughtful den mother, friend, confidant adult we all wish we had to help us once we were too old to depend on our real parents.And so the original Tales of the City ran through 6 titles, each exploring and exhausting the variations on life that always seemed about right for his characters. After a hiatus of several years, Maupin returned to the survivors of his Barbary Lane stories to tell us something about how these character will resolve their last issues.I have had some reservations about these books. Mary Ann in Autumn and Michael Tolliver Lives seemed somewhere between vindictive and mean. Good reading but flavored with a need to strike out at the sexually straight community in general and the previous generation in particular.Ok Sex. For the few people who do not know Armistead Maupin is openly gay. He grew up in a time when homosexuality was thought to be a disease. He survived the worst of the AIDS deaths and the murder of friend (not lover) and community leader Harvey Milk. Maupin's real San Francisco was almost as mythical as his mythical world, but Maupin only draws form real life. Sexual identity and self-awareness of sexuality are perhaps the most serious theme though out what are now nine books.If these words worry or scare you, you had best read other books.Anna Madrigal was born male, and is by book 9 one of the oldest surviving trans-sexual. Among the other characters are homosexual married couples, a vigorously active bi sexual, A transsexual survivor of the Iraqi War, an over-weight, retired beauty queen and a steady flow of people whose preference in partners pretty much exhaust the choices available.If the reader insists on declaring heterosexual the only right choice, Anna was the child to a whorehouse madam; reminding us that there is little moral high ground to be owned to one whose only claim to such is a more usual preference for bed mates.If you are still fixated on sexual mores, Maupin will remind you that there are other weightier matters in human existence, disease, death, and perhaps worst of all, the prospect of living out old age without love.For all this discussion of heavy philosophic and political topics, The Days of Anna Madrigal is not a heavy read. It is Maupin's skill that allows us to confront our own attitudes or to stay in the story. In fact this book is to assure us that Anna will not pass from literary life without love or with the burdens of her past.The book will move between the various surviving members of Anna's tenants, reminding us of how much she had improved their lives. The story line will alternately tell her complete back story; a confession made in detail and at length to the reader and introduces us to a new mythological place, the annual Burning Man Festival.We are advised that the secret to enjoying Burning Man is to "let it go", "let it happen" and to "roll in the dust". Anna has lived her life that way. Maupin will give us a way to apply the Secret of the Festival , to the festival that is , or could be our lives.

I have read - and re-read - this series on and off over more than 20 years. The characters have always felt like friends.Reading this book was a horribly bittersweet experience. Knowing that this probably is the last time we will encounter the former residents of Barbary Lane made each page turn increasingly difficult. I am not quite emotionally ready to let go of everyone. I suspect the same is true for many fans.This isn't the book for people new to Armistead Maupin's oeuvre. It is very much one for people who have read the others and want more.And I do want more. I will always want to know what happens next. But the reality of it is, these living, breathing characters can't go on forever, that would just be impossible. But I still don't want to say goodbye.There have been laughs as I read this. There have also been tears.The series does have to end but I really wish it didn't.Perhaps we could persuade Armistead to write something from the missing years. Some short stories? Something. Anything. Please?!

as preparation for this final book in the series i reread the two most recent books and was surprised how much more i adored them this time around, if you are new to the books, then you have to start at the beginning to fully get into this wonderful saga of Annas logical family.The latest book is a fittingly perfect way to end the series although lets hope Mr Maupin decides to add more very soon, as the newer characters are just as great as the old originals. Its wonderful to catch up with them and their lives and in this book some names from the past reappear, and we finally get to find out about Anna's childhood growing up at the Blue Moon Lodge as she confronts the secrets she ran away from.The book had me laughing and crying and i couldnt put it down until it was finished, highly recommended (in fact essential reading for fans) its beautifully written, uplifting and charming, and about people who utterly understand giving and receiving love.

Armistead Maupin's ninth (and last?) novel in the Tales of the City cycle is a treat for fans (though not the place for newcomers to start). Mouse and his lover Ben, Anna'a carer, Jake, and Brian's daughter, Shawna, head off to Burning Man, whilst Brian and his new wife, Wren, take Anna on a voyage of remembrance, back to Winnemucca and her boyhood days. Mary Ann pops up for good measure, and the spirits of DeDe and D'Orothea, Mona's ghost and others benevolently waft in and out of the narrative.If the tone is at times nostalgic and elegiac (or is that just my reading), the book -- like its predecessors -- wears its radical components as lightly as gossamer. For more than 35 years (the first Tales was published in 1978) Maupin has invited us to love his ragtag family of dreamers, queers and misfits. They (and we) have mostly survived over three decades of racial and sexual prejudice and persecution, the AIDS pandemic, and of course personal tragedy. His cast is flawed but triumphant -- and in Anna's case, at least doubly transcendent by the end. It's a gorgeous, emotionally loaded read, that fans will not be able to finish without gasps of recognition and delight as well as tears of sorrow and joy.

This is, according to Armistead Maupin, the last of the novels that make up the Tales of the City series. I was delighted when he started writing them again after a long break. Now I'm sad all over again. I do not want this to be the last of the books, but the ending pretty much ties up all the loose ends from all the previous books and makes me think that this time there won't be a last minute come back to cheer me up.You need to have read all the previous books in the series to make any sense of this one, so there is absolutely no point in me rehashing any of the plot here. If you're intrigued go ahead and start with the first book. You won't be disappointed. They remain some of the finest books I've ever read.I very much enjoyed exploring Anna's past in this book, although I'd have liked to have spent a little more time with Mouse and Brian. When all the characters are so loveable it's hard not to feel cheated out of their company.

Is this really the last tale of the city? Apparently so, although the book's ending closes no options. Maupin writes as beautifully as ever and he can amuse and move in equal measure. But, inevitably, the excitement of the early novels has waned. Then, the characters were bold and daring and it was bold and daring to be seen reading about them. A generation grew up and came out with Mouse and others. With age has come a certain weariness. Maupin has sought to counter this by cleverly taking Mrs Madrigal back in time to when she was the young boy Andy, son of the whorehouse - and that story within this novel is original, exciting, powerful and sad. But to bring all his great characters together in what may be their grand finale has required some contrivance, and it is more charming than compelling. But I would not have missed it, and it tempts me to go back to the beginning.