Arts & Entertainment
Something Inside : Conversations with Gay Fiction Writers
The Book of Lies
Witness to Revolution : The Advocate Reports on Gay and Lesbian Politics, 1967 - 1999
Arts & Entertainement
The Book of Lies
Revied by Stephen Kopstein
Felice
Picano’s latest novel, The Book of Lies, is an ambitious attempt
to combine the suspense, history, and gay culture genres into one neat
package. Unfortunately, it fails to deliver a compelling example of any
of them. I found this book highly disappointing, especially since I so
enjoyed his earlier work, The Lure.
Lies follows the twisted tale (and tail) of protagonist Ross Ohrenstedt’s attempt to uncover a mystery surrounding a group of gay writers from late 20th-century America who came to be known as The Purple Circle. The novel is set in the future, primarily in Los Angeles with side trips to Truro, Mass and the Bay Area. While some of Picano’s descriptions of life in post-millennial America are amusing I found the tact of setting the novel in the future doesn’t add much to the overall readability of the story. In most cases, it actually seems rather silly and frivolous - especially in his detailed descriptions of email and Instant Messages.
Divided into 10 books and clocking in at 420 pages, Lies takes far too long to rope the reader in. Which is sad, because it is obvious from the text that Picano can write. The novel might have worked if Ohrenstedt had been a more interesting character. He is neither sweet enough to win the reader’s heart or wicked enough to win her contempt. Perhaps it was his vacillation between these two traits that I found most tedious. As if that weren’t enough, Picano creates far too many characters for the reader to be able to get to know any of them - so many, in fact, that the plot gets lost (perhaps this was his intent) in myriad confusing identities. This would almost be excusable if the plot were one worth following; unfortunately, this way-too-long book lacks a hook.
Honestly, I can’t understand how Picano expects us to stay with him for more than 400 pages while a confused - but only marginally sinister - main character drives all over California to discover who the author of a couple of pages of not-very-interesting text is. One can only assume that the author likes his characters enough to keep on telling us more about them. Reminds me of a boring accountant at a work-related function who insists on telling you all about the antics of his seven-year-old and then goes on to describe in painful detail the child’s performance in the school play. Too much information about people you just don’t give a damn about.
Picano’s fall from literary grace is like the plight of poor Sally Struthers, reduced from her role as a brilliant comic character actress in All in the Family to appearing on ads for truck driver’s schools on late night TV. One can only hope that Picano regains his focus and provides us with some of the brilliance he has shown in previous works.