Bøker av Gary Indiana

"A literary, unabashedly wicked, revealing montage of Gary Indiana's life-from his early days growing up gay in rural New Hampshire to his escape to the Haight-Ashbury in the post-summer-of-love era, to the sweltering 1970s in Los Angeles, a stint living in Havana, Cuba, and ultimately his existence in New York in the 1980s as a bona fide downtown personality. Here is his fierce writing style, his merciless eye trained on himself this time, a mixture of humor, philosophy and gut-wrenching realism that defies easy categorization"--

Whether he''s describing Tracy Emin or Warhol, the films of Barbet Schroeder (''Schroeder is well aware that life is not a narrative; that we impose form on the movements of chance, contingency, and impulse....'') or the installations of Barbara Kruger (''Kruger compresses the telling exchanges of lived experience that betray how skewed our lives are...''), Indiana is never just describing. Few writers could get away with saying the things Gary Indiana does. And when the writing is this good, it''s also political, plus it''s a riot of fun on the page.

Footloose and broke, the unnamed narrator of Gone Tomorrow hops on a plane without asking questions when his director friend offers him a role in an art film set in Colombia. But from the moment he arrives at the airport in Bogotá, only to witness a policeman beat a beggar half to death, it becomes clear that this will not be the story of gritty bohemians triumphing against the odds. The director, Paul Grosvenor, seems more interested in manipulating his cast than in shooting film. The cult star, Irma Irma, is a vamp too bored and boring to draw blood. And the beautiful, nymph-like Michael Simard doesn’t seem to be putting out. Meanwhile, the film’s shady financier is sleeping with his mother, while a serial killer skulks about the area killing tourists. Everything comes to a head when the carnaval celebration begins in nearby Cali. But once the fiesta is over, all that’s left are ghostly memories and the narrator’s insistence on telling the tale. “Unlike the majority of pointedly AIDS-era novels,” writes Dennis Cooper, “Gone Tomorrow is neither an amoral nostalgia fest nor a thinly veiled wake-up call hyping the religion of sobriety. It’s a philosophical work devised by a writer who’s both too intelligent to buy into the notion that a successful future requires the compromise of collective decision and too moral to accept bitterness as the consequence of an adventurous life.”

The long-awaited memoir from one of the most acclaimed radical writers in American literature.

Previously unpublished plays and writings by one of today's foremost satirical authors.