Henry Gereighty edition by Louie Crowder Literature Fiction eBooks
Download As PDF : Henry Gereighty edition by Louie Crowder Literature Fiction eBooks 
A New Orleans playwright gives up the theatre in The City of NO to become a gay rights activist; newly committed to a plan for social justice The Piss Map.
Henry Gereighty edition by Louie Crowder Literature Fiction eBooks
I didn’t at first notice the bandage on the cover. The blood? That coming-at-you-fist? Yes. And I’d be lying to deny that it still bothers me: there are enough punches and bloody fists, clenched and otherwise threatening, in the world already. Yet, after several readings, Crowder’s deliciously (and deviously) subtle storytelling in HENRY GEREIGHTY has made me look twice, and then once more. And I’m still looking. This story demands a wrestle, and it’s humbling, yet there’s simply too much craft at work here for me to think that all this is anything less than intentional.This is all for the good, but let me be clear: HENRY is an easy read, if that’s what one wants (and needs) from it. Crowder’s remarkably spare, raw, and brisk style should be credited here: he somehow conveys tons with pounds; he draws blood unflinchingly and often and yet, somehow, artfully; somehow, he enables the story to proceed at a galloping pace without any sense of hurry infecting the enjoyment. It’s simply an engagingly gritty and beautiful and sad and puzzling story. Read it and be moved and then move on, if you must. But if you want or need more?
Its three primary frames are clearly identifiable, and Crowder explicitly (and implicitly) has something to share about each. The broadest -- “the South and the Southern gay male” -- is treated sparingly though vividly, with that same bandaged/bloodied-knuckle duality as one is met with on the book’s cover. It’s a hard story, but it’s integral to the Southern (and American) story, and it defines Henry even as it seems to inspire him to redefine himself.
The next -- “New Orleans and Mississippi’s Gulf Coast”, as I shall label it rather lamely -- garners even more detailed attention as the stage for downtrodden (and indomitable) Henry’s particularly fumbling (and determined) journey from one stage of life (and death) to the next. Its representative human figures make a scorching (and invigorating) mark upon the narrative. The unsettling weakness, strong because of its honesty, of the enfeebled but unbowed senior whom Henry notices in the fast-rood restroom? This may be a subtler but no less potent influence upon Henry than that exercised by the angelic, yet more vulnerable and finally absent, “unicorn-lawyer” of the center-piece of HENRY that arrives in the soaringly beautiful (and tragic) Chapter 12. Yet, too, there is the shockingly final (and introductory) scene of the tale that suggests (and declares) that Henry’s punch-filled stumblings and oft-drunken bumblings are getting him much further than he presently realizes.
So then there’s Henry himself, the bloodied-and-bandaged journeyman who is as divided yet sympathetic a soul as any I’ve met in literature. My own fists have knocked against so many classical texts that I may be forgiven (and complimented) if I mention that I wasn’t deep into the story before Marsyas, and then Augustine of Hippo, came to mind. Yet, beautifully-divided characters from less-ancient sources may be more apropos: W. Somerset Maugham’s Philip Carey would be one; any number of characters from Tennessee Williams’ corpus may serve even better. (I interpret Henry’s passionate involvement in play-writing and play-producing as an autobiographical nod to Crowder himself, though I’m wary of making facile connections.) HENRY goes so far as to allude to (and identify) Jayne Mansfield as an unlikely (and perfectly fitting) role-model for Henry, even to the extent of the abrupt (and predictable) pouring of libations to her in his time of need (and abundance).
Hurting or healing or both, Henry undeniably seeks wholeness. He longs for one small piece of some dimly- (and sharply-) conceived Promised Land. He has a sense of Rightness, defined both positively (the “In Good Standing” list) and negatively (the “F-You Wall” and the “P-Map”). He surely wants (and needs) to stop fighting. And he has more than fancy to foster hope: so the masterfully sweet-and-satisfying, if partly bitter-and-transitory, Chapter 12 soaringly suggests. Yet there are other fits and starts, other glimpses and glances, in the same direction for Henry and even any of the rest of us who are similarly striving and struggling. Harmony, or some closer approximation thereof than we experience now, is desirable and quite possibly possible and… and… Well, HENRY refuses, and craftily, to tip the scales in any direction once and for all. And the bread-crumbs that it drops for the wary fellow-traveler looking for insight on this count are sometimes more like little shards of glass (little pieces of smashed beer-bottles, yes) than anything else. But glass can cut several ways. And perhaps I’ve looked but haven’t seen: are these all lenses through which a better way can be clearly seen, if only one has the eyes to see it?
I’m still looking. I will continue to look. Mindful that HENRY is but the first in a promised trilogy, I am reassured that I will have more opportunity to look as Henry’s continuing journey is further revealed. I only hope that Crowder won’t keep me waiting too long. Above all, may I have the eyes to see what’s really there -- bloodied knuckles? bandaged knuckles? some beautiful synthesis of both? -- when the next chapter begins (and ends).
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Henry Gereighty edition by Louie Crowder Literature Fiction eBooks Reviews
Helping straight America see a little piece of gay America, well worth the read. Does it make the reader uncomfortable? I hope so and would ask if not, why not? Thanks and keep them coming. Straight and trying move forward in my understanding-- this little bit of insight helps.
From a straight, white, woman born and raised in the Lowcountry of SC, this is a another raw, emotional, and truthful read from one of the best authors that I have read in many years. This novel takes me to a place of understanding and the hopefullness that justice, peace, and ultimate happiness fall into the life of Henry. I can't wait to continue on the journey of "The Piss Map". Waiting on book 2!
I didn’t at first notice the bandage on the cover. The blood? That coming-at-you-fist? Yes. And I’d be lying to deny that it still bothers me there are enough punches and bloody fists, clenched and otherwise threatening, in the world already. Yet, after several readings, Crowder’s deliciously (and deviously) subtle storytelling in HENRY GEREIGHTY has made me look twice, and then once more. And I’m still looking. This story demands a wrestle, and it’s humbling, yet there’s simply too much craft at work here for me to think that all this is anything less than intentional.
This is all for the good, but let me be clear HENRY is an easy read, if that’s what one wants (and needs) from it. Crowder’s remarkably spare, raw, and brisk style should be credited here he somehow conveys tons with pounds; he draws blood unflinchingly and often and yet, somehow, artfully; somehow, he enables the story to proceed at a galloping pace without any sense of hurry infecting the enjoyment. It’s simply an engagingly gritty and beautiful and sad and puzzling story. Read it and be moved and then move on, if you must. But if you want or need more?
Its three primary frames are clearly identifiable, and Crowder explicitly (and implicitly) has something to share about each. The broadest -- “the South and the Southern gay male” -- is treated sparingly though vividly, with that same bandaged/bloodied-knuckle duality as one is met with on the book’s cover. It’s a hard story, but it’s integral to the Southern (and American) story, and it defines Henry even as it seems to inspire him to redefine himself.
The next -- “New Orleans and Mississippi’s Gulf Coast”, as I shall label it rather lamely -- garners even more detailed attention as the stage for downtrodden (and indomitable) Henry’s particularly fumbling (and determined) journey from one stage of life (and death) to the next. Its representative human figures make a scorching (and invigorating) mark upon the narrative. The unsettling weakness, strong because of its honesty, of the enfeebled but unbowed senior whom Henry notices in the fast-rood restroom? This may be a subtler but no less potent influence upon Henry than that exercised by the angelic, yet more vulnerable and finally absent, “unicorn-lawyer” of the center-piece of HENRY that arrives in the soaringly beautiful (and tragic) Chapter 12. Yet, too, there is the shockingly final (and introductory) scene of the tale that suggests (and declares) that Henry’s punch-filled stumblings and oft-drunken bumblings are getting him much further than he presently realizes.
So then there’s Henry himself, the bloodied-and-bandaged journeyman who is as divided yet sympathetic a soul as any I’ve met in literature. My own fists have knocked against so many classical texts that I may be forgiven (and complimented) if I mention that I wasn’t deep into the story before Marsyas, and then Augustine of Hippo, came to mind. Yet, beautifully-divided characters from less-ancient sources may be more apropos W. Somerset Maugham’s Philip Carey would be one; any number of characters from Tennessee Williams’ corpus may serve even better. (I interpret Henry’s passionate involvement in play-writing and play-producing as an autobiographical nod to Crowder himself, though I’m wary of making facile connections.) HENRY goes so far as to allude to (and identify) Jayne Mansfield as an unlikely (and perfectly fitting) role-model for Henry, even to the extent of the abrupt (and predictable) pouring of libations to her in his time of need (and abundance).
Hurting or healing or both, Henry undeniably seeks wholeness. He longs for one small piece of some dimly- (and sharply-) conceived Promised Land. He has a sense of Rightness, defined both positively (the “In Good Standing” list) and negatively (the “F-You Wall” and the “P-Map”). He surely wants (and needs) to stop fighting. And he has more than fancy to foster hope so the masterfully sweet-and-satisfying, if partly bitter-and-transitory, Chapter 12 soaringly suggests. Yet there are other fits and starts, other glimpses and glances, in the same direction for Henry and even any of the rest of us who are similarly striving and struggling. Harmony, or some closer approximation thereof than we experience now, is desirable and quite possibly possible and… and… Well, HENRY refuses, and craftily, to tip the scales in any direction once and for all. And the bread-crumbs that it drops for the wary fellow-traveler looking for insight on this count are sometimes more like little shards of glass (little pieces of smashed beer-bottles, yes) than anything else. But glass can cut several ways. And perhaps I’ve looked but haven’t seen are these all lenses through which a better way can be clearly seen, if only one has the eyes to see it?
I’m still looking. I will continue to look. Mindful that HENRY is but the first in a promised trilogy, I am reassured that I will have more opportunity to look as Henry’s continuing journey is further revealed. I only hope that Crowder won’t keep me waiting too long. Above all, may I have the eyes to see what’s really there -- bloodied knuckles? bandaged knuckles? some beautiful synthesis of both? -- when the next chapter begins (and ends).
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