by Dr. Charles Silverstein. $20; Chelsea Station Editions; 342 pages
Most laypeople would recognize Dr. Charles Silverstein for penning The Joy of Gay Sex and the The New Joy of Gay Sex. However, in October, he released very personal memoir. He described it as the "parallel description of struggle." The book crosses his life's passion of gay equality with that of his other passion, his now-late partner, William Bory: "It was struggle for our rights as gay men and women as well as my struggle to find love."
Silverstein opened his memoir with a discussion of why it is not a memoir. Anyone blithely aware of what the memoir genre normally entails (dribble and drama a la Burroughs) should know that Silverstein takes no liberties, hides no truths, glosses over no details and is candid in a way that could make Larry Flint blush. He readily admits that he is not a writer but supports that statement, noting that he is anything but boring. The book, perhaps not Nobel Prize material in linguistic and literary intrigue, is anything but boring.
For The Ferryman opens with a description of Silverstein's relationship with Bory and ends the same way. It is very clear that despite Silverstein's unstoppable passion for gay and lesbian equality, his true love is Bory. While he brings up the subject of loves lost, there is no denying that there was really only one love lost in Silverstein's life. In fact, Bory and Silverstein were together in 1973 when Silverstein made his historic presentation before the "Nomenclature Committee" of the American Psychiatric Association, which led to the removal of homosexuality as a mental illness from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Illness. "He frequently edited my work," Silverstein said of Bory.
The vast majority of the first portion of For The Ferryman includes the historical psychological background of homosexuality, ranging from aversion and so-called "Playboy Therapy" to Silverstein's own work with the likes of Dr. Ruth before she was "Dr. Ruth" at Silverstein's Institute for Human Identity (IHI)where she worked as an intern. During an interview at IHI for Cosmopolitan, a reporter wanted to know how a girl was to know the man she had her heart set on was gay or not: "Why doesn't the Cosmo girl ask her boyfriend if he's gay? Silverstein suggested, "The Cosmo girl should take a walk with her boyfriend on a crowded street. Then he should watch his face. If he looks at more men's asses than women's, he's probably gay."
As Silverstein began his own difficult and, in some instances, lonely coming-out process in the years before and after the Stonewall Riots, he, like so many gay men today, felt that "black clouds swirled in the sky above me." He noted that the price to be paid for such "insularity" was that he "would have to settle for what [he] could get and ask for no more." Silverstein candidly admitted that he did everything in his power to hold onto the men that he loved. He wrote that he was amazed by gay youth today who are determined to search for love.
Silverstein resorted, in his years before Bory, while still trying to be the good boy and not a dirty one, but the "underground homosexual community in New York" intrigued him. In a related interview, Silverstein said that gays would hang out in an area called "The Trucks." It was literally a yard full of empty truck trailers where men would meet for sex. He also mentioned "The Rambles," an area of bushes off the bridle paths in Central Park "that served the purpose of bushes everywhere."
Later in their relationship, Bory was diagnosed with AIDS. It was at a gay guesthouse in Puerto Rico that Bory first pointed out the lesions on his leg. "Look," was all he could say to Silverstein. From here, Silverstein intertwines Bory's battle with AIDS with the battle the gay community itself was embroiled in—from the renaming of the disease from the GRID (gay-related immune deficiency) syndrome to the numerous "cures" being touted. While Silverstein's chastisement of the alternative medical approach may seem harsh, one should remember that the love of his life and his friends were dying from AIDS. He reminds the reader that "self-hatred does not cause disease, and self love does not cure it."
Silverstein becomes even more candid when discussing his lover's addiction to crack cocaine in the last years of his life. A reader might wonder why Silverstein continued to support Bory's serious crack addiction; Bory even began selling off his sizeable book collection just to pay for ore drugs. Silverstein resorted to moving about his own valuables "as if [he] were protecting a black slave escaping through the Underground Railroad." Silverstein quotes Herodotus as he reminds us that one should not judge a man's life until after his death. Despite the addiction, Silverstein beautifully juxtaposes images of such hopelessness with tenderness. He writes, "All the bitterness of his youth, all the times of anger toward me evaporated. Wile sitting on the couch, wrapped in the shabby blanket he preferred, he would glance at me, smile, kiss me or lay his head on my shoulder."
One cannot understand the life of any couple, much less Silverstein and Bory, but this testament to their love can help anyone understand the singular importance of observing without any judgment. In Silverstein's case, to love someone who, to many gay men, may have seemed unlovable is the very portrait of unconditional love and a not-so-gentle reminder to the rest of us about how precious love really is.
In the opening pages, Silverstein wrote, "There are events in my relationship with William in which I acted with great love, and at other times when I feel embarrassed about my behavior. Perhaps writing this book helps me to make peace with myself." When asked if he had made peace he simply answered, "Yes, I have made peace with myself."
For The Ferryman uniquely blends the early years of the gay struggle for liberation and AIDS with the simple life of two men in love.
