The Great Believers by Rebecca MakkaiMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
It is stunning to me how visceral my memories of the 1980s are due to the AIDS epidemic. As a young person/pre-teen, I certainly didn't understand all the nuances, but I knew my gay stepuncle was losing friends. I remember well when Ryan White was barred from attending classes due to fear of exposure. My stepmom, who was a supplements editor for the L.A. Weekly, brought me home a print of Robbie Conal's "Artificial Art Official" poster of Jesse Helms.
I was not prepared for how all of these memories would come flooding back in reading this book. In the first few minutes of the audiobook, I listened to Michael Crouch and I thought, "Ugh. This is going to be a long haul." I'm so glad I stuck with it, because I was proven wrong. Michael Crouch's distance is absolutely perfect. It removes sensationalism and replaces it with sincerity--a certain pragmatic matter-of-factness that makes the horrors real, rather than extraordinary.
But it also Yale, who might end up being one of my favorite protagonists ever. What a splendid human in his frailty, his courage, his loyalty. He is written so well and so believably, that he is both inspirational and relatable--and it has little to do with his sexual orientation or even his gender. That's the mark of an amazing character, when identity is in the background of what connects to the reader. That's not to say that his identity as a gay man isn't important -- it is huge, and I'd say he's a very important gay character in that he moves in and out of circles that are often narratively exploited as stereotypes, but in a way that reminds us that we are all human beings trying to find our place in the world, seeking out others who will see us.
Nora Lerner is also another favorite character. She holds the torch -- not just for her lover, but for love itself. The entire book is more about love than anything else. And for something to be about love, it must also be about death, because that's the reality of it, isn't it. Makkai drives home the essential aspect of what makes us human. May we all have the someone we love enough to advocate for them long after they have died.
This book does not shy away from the gruesomeness that is AIDS-related death, but it is never for the shock value. It is related with tenderness and honors those that have suffered it. It isn't an easy book to read, nor should it be, but it is also a wonderful book to read. Any book that reaffirms life through a frank and bold look at death (and love, and joy, and suffering), deserves a place of honor.
This is quite possibly my favorite read this year.
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