This novel aimed at gay adolescents recalls 1984’s excellent “The Boys on the Rock” by John Fox, another high school coming out tale. “Rainbow Boys” is a blander, shallower telling, but nevertheless remains an engaging read.

The three protagonists – Kyle, Nelson, and Jason – represent different points along the spectrum of sexuality, personality, and outness. Nelson and Jason are painted in fairly broad strokes – he’s the flamboyant queeny guy, while Jason is a jock struggling with feelings he doesn’t understand or want. And yet both are humanized, completely sympathetic, because Sanchez treats us to all their contradictions. The movie theater scene between Kyle and Jason is a delight of stream-of-consciousness adolescent angst. If Jason as popular high school athlete is removed from my personal experience, I powerfully connect to his fears, hope, uncertainties, and desires revealed in that scene.

Kyle, meanwhile, is the most “normal” of the group (we know this because the author keeps telling us so), and indeed he is the most individualized character in the novel. That is, he is not a “type,” nor is he a cardboard cutout. The same cannot be said of the secondary characters; the parents, friends, and school personalities are all one-dimensional archetypes present in the book primarily to spout dialogue to which the main trio can respond. In other words, they’re more scenery than characters.

A quote on the back cover suggests “Rainbow Boys” is for high school students what “Heather Has Two Mommies” is for the toddler set, and I agree. The book never tries to be more than what it is – a simple tale of three guys all struggling to find their way in a confusing and unfair world. That’s everyone story, but it’s wonderful and affirming to find it told from a pink perspective. Ultimately, don’t read this if you want a thought-provoking story or an in-depth character study, but do pick it up if you’d like to enjoy a quick, easy, and charming read clearly aimed at younger readers.

Addendum:

The similarities and differences between “The Boys on the Rock” and “Rainbow Boys” intrigue me. The latter book was published nearly 20 years after the former, and indeed the story reveals some important shifts in social attitudes. Specifically, Nelson and Kyle more easily accept their gay-ness, and they have resources available to them (such as a gay youth support group) that would have seemed unthinkable to the protagonist of Fox’s novel. And yet, it is dismaying how little the basic plot has strayed over nearly two decades. It’s still such a struggle for many gay youth to accept themselves, and gay people still face so much hate and violence. But both books are powerful tools to help gay kids by showing them that they are not alone or abnormal.

Overall Quality 3.5 / 5.0
Gay Content 5.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 5.0 / 5.0

I have a lot of problems with this book, but overall I think Mr. Krach shows a lot of promise as an author (for one thing, the writing improves as the novel progresses, especially at the end).

I came very close to quitting the book about 100 pages from the end (which should tell you something…! don’t know what, but something) but ultimately decided to stick it out (which should also tell you something…but again, you can just make up what that something is).

Mr. Krach seems to have a natural affinity for writing fettered by an amateur blindness to common writing mistakes and a tendency toward inconsistency. He’d begin a paragraph with a very nice turn of phrase (there were many times throughout the novel when I thought to myself, “Wow, I like how he phrased that”) and then end the paragraph with a clunky block of prose.

Where he could have said: “Grinning, John said, ‘Hi, how’s it going?’” Mr. Krach would regularly say something awkward, like “John said, ‘Hi, how’s it going?’ He grinned broadly while he spoke.”

Similarly, the author sprinkled the novel with completely irrelevant short scenes detailing events in another part of the city or world. Where was the editor for this book? By contrast, I read Annie Proulx’s short story “Brokeback Mountain” in the middle of reading this novel. The prose of “Brokeback Mountain” is raw and unyielding, while “Half-Life” conjures an image of a young, eager author sitting at his computer typing away.

But Mr. Krach’s greatest writing weakness falls under the “telling versus showing” category. Yes, creative writing professor love this criticism, but they have good reason – telling rather than showing a story bleaches the narrative of drama and reduces reader engagement. The reader becomes more passive, simply absorbing the story, rather than participating actively along with the protagonist. Stated more plainly, a story told is more boring than a story shown.

That said, the ending defied my expectations, not because it was a surprise ending (it wasn’t) but because the characters actually managed to grow a little bit, and the burgeoning relationships became nice commentaries on interpersonal dynamics. I just wish we had seen a little bit more what developed for Adam’s friend Dart.

Regarding the gay scales, the major characters in the novel are all gay, and the story concerns their relationships (romantic and platonic). Hence the “Gay Content” scale is a full 5.0. And none of the characters are dealing with coming out or facing any issue about homophobia, nor is there any anti-gay violence in the novel, all of which is pleasantly refreshing.

Overall, the novel was worth the time I spent reading it, mostly because I enjoyed getting to know the characters, but it will be a long while before I re-read it, because I was ultimately disappointed in them. The novel would have been much, much stronger if the editing had been more skilled, if I’d been able to detect some greater depth to the characters and theme, and if the author had more successfully injected some humor into the work.

Book. Forster, E. M. “Maurice” (published 1971; written 1913-14)
Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 4.5 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 3.0 / 5.0 (mixed, but weighted more heavily toward positive)

Movie. Maurice (1987)
Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 4.5 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 3.5 / 5.0 (mixed, but weighted more heavily toward positive)

The Story

The movie “Maurice” (pronounced “Morris”) is a faithful Merchant & Ivory adaptation of E.M. Forster’s novel of the same name. The story follows Maurice (James Wilby) and Clive (Hugh Grant), two gentlemen in turn-of-the-century England, who meet and develop a romantic relationship while studying at Cambridge. Unfortunately, homosexuality is still criminal in England at that time, and it would seem the whole world is set against them.

The book is well-titled: the story’s true focus falls on Maurice’s personal evolution as a human being and as a homosexual. The movie, by contrast, places greater emphasis on the relationships involved, while incorporating Maurice’s personal journey.

** Note – This commentary contains as much analysis as review, and so contains spoilers.

The Movie

The story makes for a lovely gay romance, although somewhat inconsistent in quality. In fact, the editing in the first half is simply poorly done. Scenes end abruptly and jarringly, just as they seem to be getting started. As the movie progresses, the editing evens out, and the story becomes more fleshed out. The last half turns into an engrossing exploration of two paths gay men might take in turn-of-the-century England.

The last two scenes are easily the most powerful and poignant in the movie (not so in the book), contrasting Maurice’s and Clive’s choices, and yet also leaving them open for interpretation. I see a happy ending for one, and a bittersweet, sad resolution for the other. But I also see how other people might interpret the ending differently.

The film also does a great job of exploring the themes raised in the story. It questions culture (such as England versus France, Italy, or Greece), class, and wealth and sexuality. It explores how a society founded on judgmentalism can be personally destructive. Everyone must fit in a box, and every box must relate to the others in a clear hierarchy. Failing this, the characters begin to experience crises of self-identity.

The film also boasts a fantastic cast. Wilby brings the right mixture of sensitivity and obtuseness to the role. Interestingly, Grant’s performance marks the greatest departure from the characterization in the book. The supporting cast, including Denholm Elliott (as Dr. Barry), Rupert Graves (as Alec Scudder), and Ben Kingsley (hypnotist Lasker-Jones), simply shines.

I should also note the movie departs from the book in some minor respects. Some scenes are re-ordered, and the movie adds a dramatic sequence about Risley (a minor character played by Mark Tandy) being entrapped, arrested, and convicted for homosexual acts. In the movie, this event precipitates Clive’s breakdown, which leads to a key development in his relationship with Maurice. In the book, Clive’s breakdown occurs without this catalyst as he apparently begins to re-think or grow out of his infatuation with Maurice.

The Book

As I mentioned above, the book doesn’t come across so much as a gay romance as a fictional biography of Maurice C. Hall. Still, it makes for an engaging, relatively fast-paced read, and I will say the scene in which Maurice and Clive first declare their love for each other is one of the most romantic passages I’ve ever read for a same-sex couple.

Forster, a skilled author, also writes with a nice turn of phrase. My favorite quote, which I swear I am going to use in real conversation some day:

“[Clive:] ‘May I ask whether you intend–’
“‘No, you may not ask,’ interrupted [Maurice]. ‘You belong to the past’” (244-5).

The book exceeds the movie in terms of evenness – it’s well-written all the way through – and theme. While the movie did a good job of capturing the most important themes from the book, it does not explore them with as much depth or subtlety, and it misses some of the less obvious ideas.

Forster addresses, for example, how people change. “One could be absolutely transformed … provided one didn’t care a damn for the past” (172). This idea hints at the constraints of a society that rigidly enforces roles relating to class, gender, profession, race, sexual orientation, etc. We grow comfortable in the niches to which we become accustomed, and even though we may experience pain in those places, we would have to sever ourselves completely from what we know in order to free ourselves from that pain. No wonder so few people exceed their so-called station in life. We are defeated by our own ambivalence, which is born of the comfortable ties we form with our past experience. In fact, Maurice begins to finds happiness because he transforms himself in one fundamental way (he increasingly accepts himself the way he is) while remaining steadfast in another (refusing to “become normal”). By the end, he even becomes willing to leave behind his family, station, and job in order to satisfy his heart.

Clive walks a different road. In the book, Clive writes from Greece, “‘Against my will I have become normal. I cannot help it’” (116). Based on the book’s presentation, I am inclined to think that for Clive their relationship was infatuation or adolescent experimentation. But the book also clearly reveals that Clive is never quite comfortable with heterosexuality either. He and his wife Anne, for example, never see each other naked.

If Clive lived today, in our contemporary culture, we would interpret his behavior as a gay man unable to accept his homosexuality but unable to truly fill the role of the heterosexual. But Clive lived in an era of excessive sexual repression. Lasker-Jones says, “England has always been disinclined to accept human nature.” Clive is the victim of his era. Although it’s definitely open to interpretation, I think in the book Clive had a youthful infatuation for Maurice, intensified by the single sex educational setting, and perhaps prolonged by Maurice’s genuine love and passion. Then Clive grows out of these feelings, but never finds himself quite comfortable with heterosexuality either. His culture’s sexual mores leave him unable to experience himself as a sexual being one way or the other. Although perhaps physically capable of sex, he is an emotional eunuch.

The movie presents Clive as a gay man who chooses the path of least resistance and conforms to the social norms of his society, at great personal cost. The ending, for him, is tragic: he stares out the window at a happy life that could have been and that he has lost forever.

Forster also uses his story to address questions of faith, because of course religion is intimately tied into homophobia. Forster writes with polite detachment but manages to convey a disdain for religious faith, which he suggests fails in day-to-day application because it is composed of one part inertia and one part arrogance. “He believed that he believed,” Forster writes of Maurice early in the novel, “and felt genuine pain when anything he was accustomed to met criticism – the pain that masqueraded among the middle classes as Faith” (45).

Later, Maurice has a conversation with a rather unpleasant, sanctimonious priest, who states hypocritically, “The unbeliever has always such a very clear idea as to what Belief ought to be, I wish I had half his certainty” (189-90). I chuckle at that statement because it seems to me the believer enjoys twice the unbeliever’s certainty. But that reaction is a version of “the grass is always greener on the other side” cliché.

Gay Positivity

As for Gay Positivity, both movie and book must necessarily reflect the mores of turn-of-the-century England, which was not a gay-positive time or place. It would thus be almost impossible to have a 100% happy gay story. And yet, both end well, with at least two characters finding strength and self-acceptance in themselves.

I weighted the movie and book a little bit differently. Both have essentially the same ending, and yet the presentation differs somewhat. The movie emphasizes a great romance, and the sadness of Clive’s path, while the book dithers a little and (in some ways appropriately) removes the focus from Maurice and his lover back to Maurice and Clive.

The Ending

Regarding Maurice’s relationship with the servant Alec Scudder, Lytton Strachey wrote to Forster on 12 March 1915, “As you describe it, I should have prophecied a rupture [in Maurice's and Alec's relationship] after 6 months — chiefly as a result of lack of common interests owing to class differences — and your Sherwood Forest ending appears to me slightly mythical.” Forster himself, in his afterward, says that he wanted a happy ending for his same-sex couple but implies he felt such happy endings lie in the province of fiction. Note how much later the book was published after it was written. I wonder how Forster might have revised this tale if he had lived to publish it today.