 So, as Kevin said, this is a novel set in the past, and it actually is set partly in this neighborhood, so what I'm going to read tonight is actually set on Polk Street. So the novel actually tells two stories. The first story is of a man named Bill Ryan who comes to San Francisco in 1971 as an 18-year-old when he's kicked out of his family for being gay, given $200 taken to the bus stop to the bus station and told to get lost. He ends up in San Francisco because he's been told that's where the gay people are. And so part of the novel follows his trajectory to 1984 when he dies apparently of an accidental asphyxiation caused by a gas leak in his apartment. The second part of the novel starts in 1984 with Henry Rios who is three months out of rehab and desperate for work agrees to take part-time work as a death claims investigator for the insurance company that insured Bill Ryan and his first case is to investigate the death of the apparently accidental death of Bill Ryan, which he concludes was an ex-devil. And so the story alternates chapters between Bill's story and Henry's story and mayhem ensues. So I'm actually going to read Bill's story rather than Rios' story. So a little background. So in this chapter, Bill has arrived in San Francisco, it's June 1971, he's 18 years old, he gets off at the Greyhound bus station, which used to be down on 5th, I think. Okay, Jesus, it's fiction, folks. Yes, on 7th, as I was saying. And he's not a happy boy. Another gay boy who was on the bus with him tells him to go to Polk Street because that's where the gays are. So Bill is looking for Polk Street and he's looking for the gays. So, Polk Street, Polk Street. Bill committed the name to memory as he stood on the sidewalk beneath a web of low-line electrical wires over streetcars, ferrying passengers up and down an immense boulevard just as they did in the Riserone commercials. He peered up a street called Powell and saw, in the distance, a cable car chugging up a steep incline and heard in his head and the little cable cars climb half ways to the stars. For a moment his anxiety fell away and he was charmed. If only he thought it wasn't so frigging cold. The envelope his mother had given him had $200 in it. He spent $50 on the bus fare, another $10 on food, potato chips, candy bars, and coques, leaving him with $140. He left $50 in the suitcase he stowed in the locker at the bus station. The remaining $90 was his stake to pay for food in a place to stay. He saw a little diner on a narrow street up Powell and ducked into it as evening began to settle in the sky and the street lamps flickered on. The diner was furnished with ready booths and table on a grimy tile floor no amount of mopping would ever get clean. Beneath harsh fluorescent lights the air was thick with grease and cigarette smoke and curses from the cooks in the kitchen behind the counter. A Chinaman brought him a fly spec menu from which he ordered a hamburger, fries, and a Coke. As he had wandered around the city he had pondered how to find Polk Street. He was afraid to ask anyone because it would expose him as a queer. But he didn't care what the Chinaman thought. So when he returned with Bill's food Bill said, my friend lives on Polk Street. Do you know where that is? Polk? When you leave here take a left and keep walking until you see City Hall. Polk Street runs right in front of it. You want anything else? Amazed by the Chinaman's fluency in English Bill said, no thank you wait what does City Hall look like? Like a big wedding cake you can't miss it. The waiter was right in the fading light City Hall looked like an immense domed cake. He was standing in front of it on Polk Street but while he had found the street he didn't know in which direction to go to find the queers he thought, I'm looking for the queers because but before we could complete the sentence in his head someone said, I'm a queer. The sound startled him. He looked around to see who had spoken but he was quite alone and then he realized it was his own voice he had heard. His own voice saying aloud the words it had said in his head a thousand times but which until that moment had never passed his lips. I'm a queer he said again. He waited for the ground to open up beneath him and tumble him into hell or a bolt of lightning to incinerate him but all he heard was the traffic noises and the rustle of the wind then once more softly but with utter conviction he said. I'm a queer. For a moment it seemed to him the world stopped. The cars and buses froze in place. The men in suits exiting City Hall were suspended at mid-step. Even the wisps of pink and orange and lavender in the evening sky paused in the run furling. All he heard was his heart beating in his ears. All he felt was the heft of his own flesh as the magnitude of the revelation. I'm a queer. Settled into the very cells that composed him because he was a queer and that changed everything. I'm a he stopped himself. Queer was an epithet of contempt and loathing and it would no longer do. What had the hippie boy called him? I'm a gay, Bill said. That sounded not quite right so he tried again. I'm gay. The world spun back into place. We pause now while the camera manager asks. It was nearly midnight. Bill had discovered the part of Polk Street where among shoe repair shops and news stands were bars which seemed patronized entirely by men. Some of the men matched descriptions he'd read in the abnormal psychology textbooks of his hometown library. Willowies, swishy figures in feminine clothes with a lavish style bouffant giggling and mincing. They were as repulsive to him on the flashes that had been in print but their presence, like neon lights, signaled to him that he was in the right place. Had it not been for these creatures he might not have been sure because the other men going in and out of the bars looked normal to Bill. Some were in business suits while others wore Levi's and leather jackets or polyester pants and Hawaiian shirts or tie-dyed tees and bell bottoms. He saw slender hippie boys and old white-haired pot-bellied grandpa's and middle-aged men who looked like they mowed the lawn on Saturday afternoon and then settled in front of the TV with a six-pack to watch the game, just like his dad. At first he found it hard to believe these ordinary-looking men were gay. After observing them for a few cold hours, however, he noticed even among the most normal-looking of them small, delicate mannerisms as they walked by, the twist of a hand, the toss of a head, or heard in their ordinary, otherwise ordinary voices, the faintest sibilants. These gestures and inflection signaled to him that these men were not, after all, like his father or his brothers. They moved differently than the men of Eden Plains, Illinois. More loosely, more softly, their maleness was undeniable, but it was also less insistent. And here and there among them strode a few men more beautiful than any males he'd ever seen outside the pages of magazine ads or the movie screen. The beauties were, in their way, as distinctive as the swishes. Unlike the swishes, they carried themselves as if they were on display. They seem to go like actors. They're every step and gesture more controlled and a little more emphatic than the ordinary life. As if in response to the commands of an unseen director. His heart broke a dozen times that night as he followed them with dazed and dazzled eyes. They were so magnificent and so utterly inaccessible. More than a few men slowed when they saw him propped against the wall next to a pet store and gave him long, lingering looks, their eyes making a slow, shameless appraisal of his face and his body from the top of his head to the cuffs of his Levi's. The attention excited and embarrassed him, forcing his eyes to the ground where he shuffled his feet on the dirty sidewalk, hoping that someone would speak to him. But no one did. Finally, cold and tired, but electric with a razzle. He screwed up his courage and pushed through the doors of a bar he had already passed half a dozen times. Mounted above the padded double doors was a neon mask and also spelled out in neon where the words the hide and seek. He was overwhelmed by the warm air centered with cigarette smoke, beer and cologne. In the dim weather slight he made out a long ball where clusters of men gathered around stools, talking and laughing. There was a scattering of tables on the main floor and a long shelf against the back wall where other men stood mostly in silence, beers and hands scanning the room purposefully. Rod Stewart sang Maggie May on the flashing Roelitzer jukebox. Apart from the absence of women the bar seemed not much different than the college bar his brother Matt had snuck him into when Bill had visited him in Urbana. He had only taken a step toward the bar when a big hand pressed his chest stopping him and a deep voice rumbled, let's see some ID kid. The man was broad shouldered and muscular in a tight black t-shirt and jeans but his bearded face was not unfriendly. I just got here from Chicago Bill said hoping that name dropping another big city would get him past the bouncer. Yeah well welcome to California but I still need to see ID drinking age here is 21. Bill pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed the man his driver's license still hoping for a break. The man sighed you know I can't let you win Bill. Cops are always looking for a reason to shut us down can't have any underage drinking. What if I just get a coke Bill said encouraged that the man had called him by his name. No miners on the premises that's the law you can hang out with me for a few minutes to warm up then you have to leave. He returned Bill's license to him so he continued conversationally how long he'd been in the city this afternoon. The man did the double take wow fresh meat stay here and don't move oh I'm Pete. Pete went to the bar and talked briefly to a handsome bartender who glanced at Bill nodded and smiled he reached down to the bar got a glass and filled it then handed it to Pete who returned to his station have a coke on the house kid Pete said handing him the cold glass so what brings you out here school. Bill thanked him for the coke and considered how much to tell him yeah uh school he said uncertainly. Bill replied with a skeptical uh-huh where are you staying um I don't know yet are there any cheap motels around here Bill fran are you a runaway kid the question dissolved his fragile confidence and sudden tears burned his eyes an unsteady voice he said um my family um I had to leave because he got no further and started to cry. Bill took the glass from him sat it down and bear hugged him hey Bill it's going to be okay your folks found that you're gay and threw you out is that what happened not trusting himself to speak Bill nodded that is fucked up you don't have a place to say tonight right. No Bill said wondering whether Pete was about to offer him a bed the thought was both frightening and exciting okay wait here I know someone who could help you. Slightly that down he watched Pete disappear into the crowd while he sipped his coke a moment later the bouncer emerged followed by another man a boy really who did not seem much older than Bill he was tall and stick thin his trousers were spray painted tight and he wore a long sleeve blouse like white shirt buttons undone to reveal a pale hairless chest he sashay toward Pete behind Pete stopped me to greet friends with a flip of his wrist his flame red hair came to a brittle point above his forehead as he approached Bill saw traces of mascara ringing the boy's bright blue eyes and smelled a gardenia scented perfume he was horrified switch position this is my good side here's our stray Bill said to the boy when they reached Bill Pete said here's our stray Pete said to the boy when they reached Bill Bill this is Waldo he said you could crash at his place tonight well hello Bill Waldo trilled his voice surprisingly deep you are fresh off the farm aren't you hi Bill mumbled I'm going to leave you two boys to talk Pete said stepping back to his post Waldo smiled and looked Bill over although there was nothing carnal in Waldo's appraisal Bill felt more exposed under the other boy's bright gaze than he had under the stairs of the men on the street are you afraid I want to get into your pants Waldo asked because hon let me tell you right off the bat I'm not into twinks at all Pete says you need a place to crash and that's what I got plus some soup if you're hungry it's late and mom is tired and I have work tomorrow so are you coming um I don't know suit yourself hon Waldo said kindly you can come with me or hit the streets but I got to tell you things get pretty ugly out there after last call your choice the weight of the long day and all its strangers and anxieties sights and sounds came crashing down on Bill exhausted and desperate he said to the swishy boy okay I'll go with you smart boy let me get my wrap and we'll be off thank you Cecil Cecil beat the deal so what should we do we could talk I could read some more what do you want really okay well we'll do questions and then this time we'll finish that little section can I have my phone I just need to keep track of the time do you have a question I do thank you it's nice that there's another Henry Rios since I'm finally getting around to reading them all but I was really wanted to ask you about the um the Mexico City book uh-huh and whether indeed there will be another one well um that's the plan no pressure that's the plan so um I just got the rights back to city of palaces from the publisher and um now that I have the rights back I feel more enthusiastic about writing a sequel so I do expect at some point that I will write a sequel it's really good thank you yes curious um maybe mistake but I think you you went for a political office at one point somewhere in the valley is that correct no I run for judge here hope we're judged here and you didn't get it unfortunately are you still interested in something along that line no that's funny you should ask um a couple of days ago a friend of mine who's uh active in the political scene called me and said hey are you interested in running for judge again and I said absolutely not so now I'm I've retired from the law I'm done with the law 30 30 years have long enough yes you're offering your stories from the day of office you write uh they um so what so what I do at this point because I've written so many of them is I write uh like a two or three page an office just to give myself the trajectory of the story and then I just start writing it um yeah pretty much at this point they tell themselves it tells itself the stories tell themselves do I think about the readers um not really I mean uh I think about the readers in this sense which is I write a particular kind of novel mostly mystery so mystery readers expect a puzzle you know that's part of the fun of reading mysteries I'm a mystery reader myself so I do try to do that to engage readers that way and um no matter how somber the subject matter of my books I you know I'm a big believer that fiction should be entertaining at some level it should be compelling let's say that you keep the reader interested um so you know when I'm writing I try to do that with with my particular particular style of prose I write it's not uh you know I I'm not um I'm not a difficult writer to read and that's intentional anything else okay hi um who are some of your favorite mystery authors you read and who are your role models which I may or may not be um so so uh I would say you know the the biggest the the two mystery writers who are my biggest influences are quite opposite in some ways um the first was Raymond Chandler because he's just of his distinctive style and because he kind of invented he and Daffel Hammett kind of invented American war although I understand he's quite a problematic writer um the long goodbye though I think is my favorite book which is a book in which his hero Marlowe falls in love with another man um uh and then the other a mystery writer who sort of gave me permission to write mysteries with Joseph Hanson Joseph Hanson who started whose first book was published in 1971 was the first gay male writer uh who enjoyed you know sort of popular success with his uh hero David Brandstetter who was an insurance investigator in fact the fact in fact you know Rios taking on the job as an insurance investigator in this book is sort of my homage to Joe um so actually right now I'm a judge for the Los Angeles Times Book Award in the mystery thriller category so I've been a literary judge so I've been reading for the last three months I read dozens of mysteries and um I have to say you know the best ones uh tend to be women writers interestingly there are a lot of women of color writing um although I just finished reading Michael Connelly who's an old school his new book is fantastic it's really kind of a master lesson how to write that particular kind of um old school mystery this is the one with the boss or the woman yes it's called the night fire it just came out it's interesting though I mean so I'm one of three judges the other two judges are women one of them is an african-american women so we felt like all the base is covered um mystery writing is a lot more diverse now than it was when my first book was published 1986 although there's still not very many queer writers and those who exist are mostly published by small presses but um yeah it's kind of a golden age for for diversity and mysteries who yes I just talked about Joe right right yes right yeah I wrote a big essay about Joe Hansen which appeared in the Los Angeles review of books online so because I knew him but he was my woman right Jane who was a lesbian it was it was complicated and comes out some of his soft-form novels where you can tell based on their relationship I don't I don't think I've ever read Joe's soft-form novels I read the one he read as a woman that's set in the antebellum south yes did you have to do much research on a false big neighborhood I did I spent a lot of time at the historical society archive and I spent a lot of time here looking at photos so the cover of this book is a photograph um that I found in the archive up here I forget I'm sorry I forget the name of the photographer uh he was a man who um who took picture who took photographs at Polk Street and Castor Street from the early 70s to when he died he was a friend of Harvey Milks and he left his archive to the library so I went up there and I spent an afternoon looking and I found this photograph which is actually of young man standing outside of a bar on Polk Street this is what I sent to my my book cover designer to use but yeah that neighborhood is gone so I did have to spend a fair amount of time trying to recreate it but I kind of remember it because you know I'm old like most of you I'm a man of a person I'm mature years so I actually kind of remember that yes just a comment I you've made mention of the somber nature of some of your work and I I read your books way back when the first came out and I had to go back to them but I remember them as being quite dark and complex and it was just while I was waiting as rereading a part of Golden Boy I forgot how witty you are you're really very funny sometimes one of the quotes I loved as you talk about Kubler-Ross and then one of the characters says forget about Kubler-Ross there's only two stages of death alive and dead thank you for saying that I'm republishing them all with my uh through my own press so you got the rights back yes I did I got the rights back a couple of years ago and I've just been going through each one of it individually and doing a little revision republishing them so are you going to write more rios books a couple more that are in this insert between all the other ones well the next one will follow this book set in Los Angeles in 1987 or eight I'm done about I'm gonna want to bring him I want to bring Rios into the present you know where he's he was late 60s and so you know that's my plan so why are you decided to stop publishing so um you know I've had all the experiences you can have as a writer but the original books are published by a small publisher um I uh yeah Allison Allison yeah um and then I was published by Harper Harper Collins and then by Putnam and then the paperbacks are published by Valentine so then I had the dig publishing experience um and what happens is uh you give up so much control as a writer uh and I am at a point in my life where I want control of my work it's my legacy so when the license so um the books were being kept in print by a big international media corporation called open road media and when our five-year licensing um contract expired they wanted to extend it and I said I I want the rights back and so that's why I want to control my work and I especially want to control the rights to my work because you give that up when you publish with the publisher they have the rights and now with print out the man in e-books they can claim the rights of perpetuity because generally you know they keep the rights as long as the books are in print well nowadays the books are theoretically in print forever so it would be very difficult for I mean I just had this fight with the University of Wisconsin press over city of palaces um I basically had to buy the rights back to that book because they said well you know the book is still technically in print would you be open to having any of your um book turned into a screener at that point so actually the books have been uh under option from a production company for the last couple of years and um they still are until march of this year uh it's a company called working title productions so they've had you know for the last two years they renewed the option they send me a check and and nothing happens but that's hollywood right so presumably they they're trying to make something happen but we'll know that so this this option expires at the end of March and I will see if they renewed or what happens um you know I'm just uh I'm just starting to read LGBT mystery writers there was uh there are a couple of trans writers I like Renee James who's a trans woman and and Darma Callagher so I'm very interested in their work so it's 642 uh well I was curious if you read anything by Reginald Hill I love Reginald Hill you're very uh child's play which because he weaves in a gay character that's pretty dominant Sergeant Willoughby yeah no I love Reginald Hill yeah he's fun um why don't I just read the end of that scene to you okay and then we'll call it a day thank you all for coming so we as we left off they were Bill and Waldo were going to Waldo's house Waldo's apartment okay Waldo lived in a three-story brick tenement in the garbage strewn alley street off Polk he unlocked first an iron gate and then a glass door to let them into a tiny foyer with a dirty black and white checkerboard floor on one wall were mailbox slots on the other were signs warning the residents against this without violation of building rules no pets lock all doors no drugs on premises the air reeked of the building and stale food smells the doorway a doorway opened from the foyer to a long dark hall this way Waldo said plunging into the darkness watch your step the fucking lights been out forever he led Bill to a door with a crudely painted nine on it fumbled with his keys in the darkness unlocked the door and then stepped aside to let Bill pass this is home bill Waldo said flicking on an overhead light street light drizzled into the room through a pair of dust-weaked windows in an all-cove half concealed by a curtain was an unmade bed he glimpsed a toilet in a tiny bathroom off the short entrance hall a couch covered with a pink chenille bedspread a little vinyl top kitchen table with two chairs a scattering of orange crate stuffed with books and albums and an old high-fi completed the decor of the main room which was no bigger than Bill's Eden Plains bedroom cockroaches scampered across the counter of the galley kitchen at their approach the sink was crammed with dirty pots dishes cups and glasses the air smelled of perfume and garbage are you hungry Waldo asked yeah sit down i made some chicken dumpling soup i'll grab you a ball the soup served in a chip ball was the best thing Bill had eaten since before he'd gone to the hospital the broth was rich and the dumplings fluffy Waldo watched him eat a glass of wine in front of him so where are you from Illinois on little town i'm from Nebraska myself Waldo said conversationally but my town was littler so Pete said you had to leave because the folks figured out you were gay Bill mumbled and embarrassed yeah honey you're not the first this city is filled with boys like you and me Bill lifted his eyes from the bowl you too Waldo nodded yeah me too my sophomore year a bunch of boys got me behind the bleachers made me suck their dicks and then beat the shit out of me he grinned well i didn't mind sucking the dicks but i didn't like how they rearranged my pretty face when i told my folks what happened they said it was my fault for being a faggot and threw me out he studied Bill you're not a queen like me how did your folks find out my dad caught me with a friend Waldo asked thoroughly was your dick in his mouth or his and yours life had a with fatigue Bill laughed and Waldo laughed with them they laughed until tears came and then they wiped them away and Bill asked if you could have another bowl of soup as Waldo served him he said you know we're the lucky ones we made it out alive not all of us do Waldo had become had begun to come into focus for Bill as a real person he no longer merely saw the bouffant hair mascara the limp wrists and tight clothes which in any event Waldo had exchanged for a silk kimono out of those affectations a boy had emerged with kind eyes under smirk of a smile Bill relaxed i was giving Marco a blowjob when my dad found this he said he beat me up bad when i got out of the hospital my mom drove me to the bus station with nothing but the clothes on your back those fuckers i left my suitcase at the bus station i have a little money you can get your suitcase tomorrow and bring it here Waldo gulped down the sob and men had just strangled thank you he wiped his eyes i don't know what i'm going to do Waldo smiled you're going to finish your soup then we'll make up the catch and you'll get some sleep a key turned and the door opened an older black man in a rumbled uniform came yawning into the room he smiled sleepily at the two boys at the table we doing a three-way he asked Waldo Bill's just crashing here hey Bill this is my lover eddie um hello Bill said adding a respectful sir eddie laughed sir how old you think i am boy i'm in a shower baby boy that i'm going to bed sure thing doll waldo replied i'll be waiting for you when the shower went on bill asked waldo um does eddie live here too waldo smirk no han eddie lives with his wife and kids over in the film bar a couple of times a week he tells her he's pulling overtime and he comes by to fuck me senseless bill not knowing how else to respond said okay waldo said you looked at him like you've never seen a black guy before there aren't too many eddie in planes you prejudiced against them my dad doesn't like them waldo nodded betty calls them niggers just like my dad well let me tell you something bill you're one of them now one of what he asked confused a nigger hun we're all the same queers niggers fix chinks all in the same boat because the same people hate all of us so we got to stick together okay bill still uncomprehending nodded let's make up your bed just toss the bowl in the sink with the other shit the maid will take care of it you have a maid waldo laughed child you are a stitch later bill lay sleepless in the lumpy couch trying not to hear the muffled sex sounds drifting into the room from behind the curtain all coat it wasn't so much the whispered oh yeah fuck me daddy fuck me they kept him awake as the low rumble of eddie's laughter and waldo's happy squeals fun they were having fun fun he realized had never entered into his fantasies okay so thank you all for coming