This Is A Writer, Who Has Lost His Way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                 When David Leavitt first appeared, on the literary scene, back in 1983 (which was 31 years ago, and, darlings, I actually remember it!!!!) he was hailed as the next Boy Genius, Literary Wunderkind,  references to Salinger---you know, the whole, standard, literary hoopla!!!!!!!!!!!  That was by way of his short story collection, "Family Dancing."

                                     What was more, he was a gay man, who was a gay writer, trying to channel himself into the mainstream.  One expected, in future times, to see Leavitt as lauded, as say, Michael Chabon, or Jonathan Franzen,  each time they produced a new work.

                                        Alas, it did not happen.  But, before getting to that, let's talk about his first novel, "The Lost Language Of Cranes," which may be the book for which he is most remembered. The story of a family in turmoil, with the son not only trying to come out, but, big surprise--the father, too!!!!!!--I would recommend this book to any youth out there struggling with their own coming out issues.

                                         What did in Leavitt, and he never really recovered from it, was his alleged novel, "While England Sleeps."  I say alleged, because other allegations followed--that much of it was cribbed from Stephen Spender's 1951 memoir, "World Within World."  It was the beginning of Leavitt's literary decline; his short story collection, "Arkansas" contained one of my favorite of his works, "The Term Paper Artist," but had little else to offer, and his more recent works, like "The Page Turner" or "The Indian Clerk" holds the attention while one is reading, but doesn't stay with one afterwards, like Leavitt's earlier books.

                                              This can't even be said about "The Two Hotel Francforts."  Despite its semi-political setting of wartime Lisbon, despite its sexual menage of one liberated couple almost directing--or is it entrapping the other????--I kept feeling like I was reading a gay version of the opening Monte Carlo section of Daphne Du Maurier's "Rebecca," though  Leavitt is not nearly as compelling as Du Maurier, for all his literary acumen!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And there is nothing like Joan Fontaine, or Maxim De Winter, or even Mrs. Van Hopper.

                                                  The Winters and the Frelengs are so mismatched.  One are a couple of naives, the other a predatory duo sucking the life's blood from other people's relationships, in some sort of perverse way of preserving their own.  Perhaps they are psychological vampires.

                                                     But I am making much more of the book than it actually is.  The idea does not work; Julia Winters is driven to suicide, (the book is the recollections of an older Peter Winter, looking back at this time in his life) while the so-called liberated Frelengs eventually split up. Ho Hum. Who cares?  I don't; which is why I revealed all the key points to save you the trouble of this short but still excruciating book.

                                                        Just to prove that he his gay, Leavitt sprinkles the book with references to people such as Elsa Schiaparelli and...my God!!!!!!!!....Madeleine Carroll!!!!!!!!!  But I have to wonder, does Leavitt actually know who these people are?  Or what they did?  Has he ever seen a Carroll movie? Does he even care?

                                                        I think he just consulted some gay directory for ideas of what gays should know, and sprinkled these names into his book, to prove he is a gay writer.

                                                            Hey, David, if you want to prove it, you would write something substantial and good!  What has happened to you, man?  Is it Gainesville, Florida???????  You need to reread some Truman Capote....and fast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  At least, thankfully you have not sunk to the gay equivalent of chick lit--which is Hunk Lit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                              Anne Rice got fat and diabetic!  What's your excuse, David???????????

                                                              To hell with "The Two Hotel Fracforts!"  I much prefer "The Two Mrs. Grenvilles," darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!