Tag Archives: Classic gay fiction

Imre

Imre
Imre 1992 version

The title of this novella has been eluding me for weeks, just at the tip of my tongue, at the back of my throat, at the end of a nerve synapse, on my fingertips. I knew the title was the character’s name (not what I recalled as the first person narrator’s, but the name of the object of his obsession and desire), and I thought it started with an “N.” I’d read it sometime in the nineties but at some point had gotten rid of my slender paperback copy, as I’ve passed along so many books. I’m not even sure where I picked up my copy, but had to be at the old rainbow bookstore on Capitol Hill on Pine Street. Something about the cover appealed to me all those years ago, and I remember finding the writing lyrical but wanting to know more: I couldn’t tell if the story was fiction or memoir, whether a brand new novel written as historical fiction or a reissue of a classic. Continue reading Imre

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