London Triptych

I saw this book when I was looking for books about rent boys in the interest of working on something myself creatively. This book has it all: sex, passion, adventure as well three stories that will tear your heart out emotionally. Already having this author's next book coming to me and will definitely be reading it as well.

Jonathan Kemp's novel LONDON TRIPTYCH is one of the most beautifully-written erotic novels I have read in years. The only book I can think of that contains such comparable language would be another fine novel of several years ago, CALL ME BY YOUR NAME. First of all, the title has a double meaning as it refers to both a painting that one of the characters Colin Read completes as well as the three interwoven stories set in 1895, 1954 and 1998 with the action taking place in London of course. In the section set in 1895 Jack Rose is a callboy who meets Oscar Wilde; we get to see the trial of this literary genius from the eyes of a male prostitute of the time. In the middle section (1954) Colin Read is a sexually repressed artist who paints a beautiful male hustler-type named Gore who says that the only way you can get money is by whoring. In the final section (1998) the narrator is the hedonistic David, who is serving a prison term and addresses his comments to a second person.These three narratives are connected in many different ways. There is the element of sex for hire in all three of them, the police have a presence, the graphic sex-- some of it kinky, some of it aided by drugs, much of it a bit crowded with the number of players-- and finally the aching theme interwoven in all three, that of love that is not reciprocated. Finally, Mr. Kemp connects the three novels in a way that may surprise you. There is passage after passage of language that rises to the level of poetry. David on founding a lump of lost hash: "Yes, I tested it on my teeth like a jeweller. Yes. You ran over and kissed me, leaving diamonds in my mouth." David on making love in a cemetery with the second-person recipient of his prose: "And the sky was made of amethyst, and all the stars were just like little fish. . . When you pulled away, silver webs appeared between us, which dissolved as soon as they were spun. It was suddenly as bright as day and a shoal of stars swam off into this vast sea of light, leaving trails of bubbles that rose and burst. My hands passed right through you. We walked through each other's bodies like walking through corridors, that led to other corridors and other doors." Colin on his model Gore: "He isn't as dim as he first appeared, just inarticulate, incapable of expressing the complexity of what he feels. How do I know? The rapidity with which his moods change, and the colour of his eyes with them; the world-weariness worn like a garment that ill fits the statuesque demeanour. His intelligence is of a different order--an intelligence of the body, if you will. . . He has a scar on his back, just underneath the right shoulder blade. . . His body tells the story of his life."Finally it is refreshing-- at least for me-- to read a novel that is not about politically correct gay men, i.e., the lawyer and architect, who just got married with a ceremony on the Marginal Way in Ogunquit, Maine, who have just adopted a child from South Korea and are your best next door neighbors. (In a recent interview Edmund White tells of a distraught student of his who has just broken up with his boy friend, lamenting that this was the man he expected to have children with. To Mr. White and those of us of his generation, this concept is as alien as the Great Wall of China.)Mr. Kemp in "Afterward: A Government of Whores" writes in several pages of what he is trying to do in this really fine novel connecting all the dots in a narrative that certainly should not be read until you finish the book.The best compliment I can give this haunting novel is that I would reread it.

I can't believe how naïve I was in former times, selecting books to read based (at least partially) on the universally laudatory comments on dust jackets. Now I sample Amazon reader comments, paying particular attention to books whose cumulative reviews come in at four stars or higher. Beyond the stars, the reviews tell me whether it's the "kind" of book I might like. For example, I like mysteries, but not thrillers, and reading the reviews gives me a better handle not just on how awesome the book is in general but also whether the content will appeal. The only flaw in this system occurs when there are relatively few reviews. This happened with "London Triptych," with only 19 reviews, most of them five stars. I was so convinced this would be a five-star book that I overlooked the limited response. Not that the book was bad; in fact, it was very good indeed. But I anticipated it would be the best read in years, even beyond five stars, and was a bit disappointed. One reviewer said it was better than Andre Aciman's "Call Me by Your Name," and that threw me into fits of joy, as in my mind, "Call..." is the most erotic, titillating, sensitive book I've ever read. "London Triptych" features a lot of down-to-earth gay sex, but the sex in "Call Me by Your Name" is mostly in the mind of the major character. The reader is constantly on edge, wondering what will happen, if actual overt sex will occur. Even more important, the agonies and ecstasies of the protagonist are so masterfully done that the reader literally feels his pain. That happens to a certain extent with Colin, the 1950s artist in "London Triptych," and that section reminded me somewhat of the Aciman novel. But it did not have the same wrenching intensity of "Call Me by Your Name."Another reviewer panned the part that included Oscar Wilde. I beg to differ, as that was one of the best features of "London Triptych." I knew certain things about Oscar Wilde's career, but thought this segment filled him out as a real person beyond the caricature I've had in my mind. Another strong point was the comparison of both the public attitude toward gays and the actions of gays themselves over this hundred-year period. We have definitely made progress during the past century, although lives of gays are not yet without special challenges.In general I'm encouraged to read more from Jonathan Kemp, and wouldn't hesitate to recommend "London Triptych" to friends, both straight and gay.

Forget any preconceptions you might have about Gay Lit (I am not gay) – this is just excellent writing.The novel follows three different men, living in different periods: a young male prostitute in the nineteenth century, a contemporary of Oscar Wilde (who appears as a character); an aspiring painter in the repressive ‘50s; a young man of today who moves to London to come out. Each of the first-person narratives takes a form appropriate to the time, and evokes the experience of gay identity against a specific historical backdrop. Notably, the writing itself indicates the quality of that experience, ranging from the comic to the tightly, grammatically 'correct'. But the more interesting story emerges from between the three tales, in the unspoken comparison between those vastly different lives. London pre the Wilde trial is a place of easy hedonism, evoked in humorously graphic descriptions of sexual acts, while in the ‘fifties, drawing from a live model is initially the closest our ‘respectable’ protagonist gets to sexual experience. In modern London, sexuality is unrestricted, but personal contact is all but impossible. The novel’s most obvious focus is on repression, or its absence – but this is also, and more interestingly, a novel about desire. Love, one character avers, is nothing to do with the worth of its recipient, but is a quality of its giver. This is the book’s leitmotif, for common to all the periods is the PURSUIT of passion, the desire for another whether successful or not.If you give this novel a shot, it will stay with you.

This is an amazing first novel by Jonathan Kemp. He tells the stories of three gay men spread over one hundred odd years in London. It starts with Jack Rose in the 1890's where he gets introduced to the world of male whores after first becoming a telegram boy. He meets a lot of very interesting characters including Oscar Wilde, who is written brilliantly by Kemp, and he admits in his `Afterword' that he pretty much made up all of the dialogue after extensive research.Then it moves on to the 1950's where 54 year old repressed, gay, artist Colin Read leans towards his urges in drawing a male model, whore and part time anything that goes, Gregory or `Gore to his friends. Gore opens the door to sexual liberation just enough for Colin to fall through with beguiling yet tragic results.Then we are brought up to date with David a hedonistic, male whore who embraces the drug fuelled excesses of the 1990's and all the ups and downs that it brings. We have sex, drugs and well art. It is all loosely tied together through two of the central characters and a web of connections through a shared need for gay sex and a moth to flame relationship with Londons more `theatrical' night spots.It is told in episodic form that pulls the whole thing together and has a rhythm that carries you along to the ultimate end that face them all.I ruddy loved this, and found it hard to put down, one of those where I was sad it was finished as I wanted more, and that is the best way to leave your audience. For gay fiction this is a must have and I can not recommend highly enough, lets hope Mr Kemp does a follow up soon.

If there is one thing that Kemp is not short of, its a metaphor; each page is covered in them. Sometimes they work but a lot of time they don't. This serial use of metaphors also makes the three main characters seem largely alike. All three of them 'speak' in this curious way.The three often don't 'stay in character'. The 1890's character, for example, slips between 'cor blimey, gov' language and truly purple prose. All three live lives of less that quiet desperation.The book would have benefited from a bit of serious editing. Some sections drag on much longer than is helpful. At one point, one of the characters has a minor fire in his flat, but nothing at all is made of this, it seems to count for nothing. It is this sort of writing that might well have been taken out by a helpful editor.For all that, I enjoyed reading it! Yes there are major flaws in the writing and the constant metaphors are a distraction, but I found myself wanting to find out what happened next. Not great literature but an interesting read.

I can't make up my mind how much I enjoyed this book. Certainly, it holds the attention and each branch of the story draws the reader along to its conclusion. It IS a page turner.Yet it is dark and awful, or awe-inspiring. In three periods the reader is taken into Queer As Folk territory: an explicit maze of desire, prostitution and gratification. Somewhere in the mix is love, but always love that seems to be misplaced in time. By the end it seems as if the cycle will continue ad infinitum for those of the oldest profession.The interwoven stories are solidly realistic in the portrayal of Victorian hedonism, the trussed-up 50s and decadent 80s/early 90s. Each urban space is delineated with care and peopled with characters who add to the representation.It is worth a read, but I'm not sure the word "enjoyable" applies.

What can I say? It's just a beautiful piece of writing. When you read in reviews that each word is `carefully crafted' I think they must have been thinking about this work because I was taken by how many of the descriptions in the book are so well conveyed in a few short colourful intense words. I found myself writing them down which I rarely do as I didn't want to interrupt the narrative. The plot is well described by others so I won't repeat it but it's the sense of time and place which is so well evoked - especially the 1950s which is conveyed in all its claustrophobia. The character Colin feels trapped in an open prison, which is probably an accurate description of the times. I doubt you will be disappointed. I'm on my third reading in two years which is a record in itself. All three lives are subtly interwoven over time and a credit to the writer.