Author: James Lear
Published: 2008 by Cleis Press Inc.
Genre: Gay fiction
Pages: 280
Another by James Lear (and something tells me I'm going to be purchasing more of his books if I get my grabby little hands on them), The Palace of Varieties tells the story of Paul Lemoyne, who moves into London on his 18th birthday in 1934. Paul shares with us a few years of his young life, and many of the arses and cocks he meets along the way.
After reading the description for this book I was reminded of Sarah Waters' Tipping the Velvet, which tells a similar story (only with Victorian women, and a whole lot less sex (which I want to re-read now...)), but Lear -or Paul- certainly spends far more time describing all the sex, more than the feelings of the cast. Money is easily had when one is willing to stretch a little (pun intended) and more easily lost.
Now, that is in no way to imply that I did not enjoy the book. Far from it! Paul's story was a fun, sexy read, and very educational even when there was fairly little mention of the period it portrayed. The ending seemed a little abrupt, but was also left open for a possible sequel.
“I grabbed Lee’s cock, which was half hard, and tugged him a few times until he could not help but get an erection. ‘Now I want you to fuck me,’ I said, my voice as merciless as Boleslavsky’s. That party, by the way, had sat down on the bench and was happily wanking while he watched the cruel drama unfold.
“’Yes, sir.’”
What I learned from this book? For instance, don't use oil paints as lubrication. Not so slippery, and certainly messy.
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