A steam room tsunami, missing ceili dancers, visual poetry, a run through London and a unicorn

[photo: Justin David]

It was the first outing for "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari - proudly entering its tenth year in business - on Friday and John-John and I duly joined a whole host of familiar regulars in the audience (including Emma, Toby, sexy Lexi, Val Lee, Suzie Feay, Karen McLeod, Anya Nyx and the rest) to welcome it in.


[photo: Justin David]

Host Paul Burston - whose own latest novel, the mystery crime thriller The Black Path was published in the autumn - teased us with the suggestion that something "very special indeed" was planned for the tenth anniversary, then proudly introduced the evening's impressive line-up...


[photo: Justin David]

...opening with the lovely Chris Chalmers - another regular attendee and fêted author, "long-listed" for the Polari First Book Prize in 2013. For us, he read from his latest novel Light From Other Windows, an intriguing tale of how a family's secrets unravel in the wake of the dramatic death of the youngest son in a tsunami that swamps Tenerife. The boy had kept a meticulous blog that painfully exposes his insights into the character of each and every one of them, and shockingly reveals that he had a few secrets of his own.

In order to save us from the full trauma so early in the evening, Mr Chalmers focused in on one of the family members, gay Jem, a gym-bunny and - it would seem - less-than-faithful boyfriend, as he is tempted by the (low-hanging) fruit of another in the steam-room of a posh hotel. Phew!


[photo: Justin David]

Dampening our ardour after that little fantasy session was the task that fell to Ann Mann (who, as I observed when she last read for us back at Xmas 2013, was one of the original members of The George Mitchell Singers - aka The Black & White Minstrels - and stalwart of BBC broadcasting) gave us a rather intriguing snippet from her new book Arcanum. A mystery of dramatic proportions, the tale revolves around the disappearance without trace of an entire coach-load of Irish folk dancers, interwoven with the ghosts and superstitions, premonitions and magic that permeate the history of the Emerald Isle.


[photo: Justin David]

How does one follow so many layers of mystery? With an audio-visual extravaganza, of course! For every poem Mr Nathan Evans (for it was he) read from the anthology Threads, he displayed an accompanying visual by the ever-lovely Justin David (also our "official photographer" for the night) - some of them quite hilarious. The poems he read for us explored life, domesticity, observations on urban living and relationships - and here he is reading a couple at the book's launch in the autumn:

Nathan Evans - Threads

Grabbing the chance during the break for a drink and a fag and a bit of a catch-up on all the gossip, it was soon time to resume our seats for a brace of top-notch readers.


[photo: Justin David]

First up, the superb Rosie Garland (aka "Rosie Lugosi"), author of the darkly gothic novels The Palace of Curiosities and Vixen - and with another The Night Brother on its way, it's a wonder she has found the time to write poetry as well. However, an anthology of her own poetry As in Judy is out now - and, from the poems she read for us, it will be brilliant!

How about the dreams of a young tomboy?

When You Grow Up
At night, she leaps and does not land. Spreads her arms and soars
above the fenced and neatly weeded garden. Her dreams
are practice sessions where she lifts cars, sees through walls, fights

dragons. She is a pirate captain, a queen, a horse. She is neither girl
nor boy: the distinctions are irrelevant when her small body encompasses
male and female, human, beast. A turbulent child figure-heading

the prow of her beaked ship, she buckles on armour, rescues
princesses from spinning wheels and charming princes,
fearless of the shapes beneath the bed. Too soon

she hears the call: Breakfast! Now! Blinks this world into focus.
Hushes battle cries, sets her teeth against the summons
to dolls, dresses, a future sweet with happy-ever- afters

and you’ll change. You’ll see. She sheathes her sword
between the pages of her book. Every bedtime her mother tucks in
the sheet of husband, marriage, children: tucks it in tight.

Or in complete contrast - a unicorn?

Rosie Garland - A Short History Of Unicorns

Even our estimable headliner Stella Duffy OBE was full of enthusiasm for Ms Garland's performance. Praise, indeed, from the author of fourteen novels, fifty short stories, ten plays and numerous articles; co-director of the Fun Palaces campaign for wider participation in all forms of arts and culture; and winner (twice) of the Stonewall Writer of the Year award.

She also congratulated Paul on the longevity of Polari - with a dire warning to the assembled audience to treasure it and never to take such things for granted (referring to events across the pond): "rights can so easily be taken away in an instant".


[photo: Justin David]

Ms Duffy's newest work is the historical novel London Lies Beneath - based on the true tragic story of the boys of the 2nd Walworth Scout troop, who drowned off Leysdown on 4 August 1912. However, it from was the optimistic early section of the book that Stella read for us, as the exuberant boys run all the way from Trafalgar Square back home [and if you so wish, you can follow the route yourself]:

These lads want to go out, yes, see the world, but they want to come home as well. London is home.

London, but not this London, up town London. Home is the other side of the river. That's Big Ben ringing out the hour and so the three boys have their task - ready, set, go. Running now, along the Strand, dodging trams and carriages, swiftly round the copper who doesn't want dirty lads from the wrong side of the river running along his patch, doesn't trust them as far as he could throw them. A quick stop at St Mary le Strand, once round the church as they promised they always will, it would be cheating just to turn the corner to the river, then fast over Waterloo Bridge to the south, to home. Real London, the London that is beneath. Beneath the fancy shops of the north side, beneath the big white houses with their bells and whistles and servants upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber, beneath the lower lip of the river that swells full and rich with the tide, shrinking back to mud flats and dirty docks twice a day. Proper London, that's where our boy lived. Lived. Where he and his friends and their families lived, happily enough, scraping out a living but only just, crammed in tight one against the other, spreading out only on high days and holidays and then just for a day trip on the tram, back to the hearth come night, and the hearth cold unless they could scrape up a coin for the coal...

...Nearly there lads, nearly home. A swift sprint down Newington Butts, well and truly breathless by Draper Street, under the train lines, finally, finally, here's Heygate with the big synagogue standing at a diagonal on the corner, then the Cuming and the library, now the dog-leg that is Larcom Street. And here they are, home. Home. Red faces, chests pumping, bare legs stinging in the wind. Not quite three miles and they've done it in under half an hour if the Town Hall clock is right. Course it is, this is the Walworth clock, course it's right. Slap on the back, punch to the arm. Good mate, good lad.

Read in Ms Duffy's inimitable style, we were as breathless as "the lads" by the end. We love listening to her almost as much as we love reading her work.


[photo: Justin David]

And that was it - with only the "curtain call", the applause and our usual round of schmoozing with chums, it was time for the pub!

Our next outing is an LGBT History Month special on 24th February - featuring readings from Tim Murphy, Dr Sebastian Buckle, Leon Craig, Suzi Feay ...and Paul Burston himself!

Faboo.

Viva Polari!

Ghost stories, 60s queens, a pre-menstrual terrorist, Bright Young Things, Miss Hepburn and a singing Xmas tree

The gang (John-John, Paul, Jim, Ange, Little Tony, Alex, Emma, Toby, Wayne and I) gathered in style once more on Monday for the final outing of "London's peerless gay literary salon" of 2013 - A Very Polari Xmas, indeed!



Paul Burston had decked his proverbials with tinsel for the occasion, and without further ado welcomed us all with mulled wine and mince pies the first guest to the stage.



Ann Mann has had a long history in entertainment - she sang with The George Mitchell Singers (who were most famous, nay notorious, for being the mainstay of The Black and White Minstrel Show), and has worked for Disney, Hammer and the BBC. Now she's turned her talents to writing, and has come up with a fabulous story indeed.

Understandably already in the planning stages for a possible film, the extracts she read from her debut novel The Impersonator opened dramatically with the murder of a couple in rebellion-riven 1960s Rhodesia, which led to the surviving teenage daughter having to be placed in the care of her uncle in London. The twist, of course, is that the uncle is a closeted (by necessity in that day and age) gay man enmeshed in the world of showbiz - and the "impersonator" of the title? That is the mystery figure whose intervention in this fragile situation causes emotional mayhem for all concerned. This is definitely a book worth further investigation, methinks...



Next up was the exceptionally attractive Mr Neil Spring (shades of Montgomery Clift, we thought). His first novel The Ghost Hunters is a spooky tale (and another, like Miss Mann's, with filming rights optioned already) based upon the true story of the 1920s ghost-hunter Harry Price, the "most haunted house in England" and the media frenzy that surrounded his investigations, as narrated by his (now elderly) assistant:

"...the Society for Psychical Research also has its doubts due to the discovery of yet more inconsistencies in the evidence Price amassed: missing details, ill-substantiated facts and accusations. They are certain their investigation will bring them to the ‘truth’.

Well, let them look, if they dare. They already know that at the moment of his death Price was writing the opening chapters of a third book on the haunted Borley Rectory. What they don’t know is that Price died in very mysterious circumstances and that in the months leading up to his death he was troubled with the worst nightmares imaginable: he thought he was being followed and he received something rather mysterious, rather dangerous, in the post.

The world would be astonished to hear it, but I know that these events – his greatest investigation and his death – were connected.

I know that his pursuers will find me. They will want my story."

We were as transfixed by the tale as we were by the reader.



Closing the first half on a musical high, we were overjoyed to have our friend Marcus Reeves ("A new Tim Rice", according to Elaine Paige) take the Polari stage once more. Arriving resplendent in a voodoo headdress ("made with the skulls of former lovers", he quipped) and departing as the "man behind the mask", in between he treated us to a fab selection of tunes from his newly-launched album Quicksilver: The Masquerade Macabre [I couldn't make the launch party itself, more's the pity], including this one - Mad, Bad World:

Marcus Reeves - Mad, Bad World

After the fabness of Mr Reeves and the chance to grab a ciggie and a drink in the interval, it was back to our seats. Paul began by solemnly singing the praises of the renowned author Karen McLeod, when the stage was invaded - again! - by none other than Barbara Brownskirt ("Poet of the People").



In her trademark cagoule, swigging from her bottle of sherry, and despite all protestations, she launched into a selection of her "poetry", including this one - The Publishers Are All Bent But Not In A Good Way, from one of her 18 volumes of (as yet, unpublished) work: this one is from Volume 6 Pre-Menstrual Terrorist:

Barbara Brownskirt - The Publishers Are All Bent But Not In A Good Way

Miss McLeod (for it, of course, was she) is a downright bloody genius, and Ms Brownskirt is one of her most hilarious creations.



Speaking of genius: our star reader Mr Philip Hoare, on taking to the podium looked rather nonplussed to follow that! Mr Hoare is a very well-respected researcher and storyteller, and, as it seems from his anecdotes, mixed in some very glamorous circles indeed. Writing his biography of the brightest of the "Bright Young Things" Stephen Tennant, he was actually granted an audience with the grand old queen herself [I'm not envious, of course!], corpulent and bedridden (by choice it seems rather than for any physical reason), surrounded by his menagerie of exotic lizards and other creatures he had transplanted from tropical climes to his crumbling family estate in Wiltshire. Stephen, Mr Hoare explained, was one of the "three loves of his life".

The second of these loves - and the subject of another biography he wrote - was dear Noël Coward. Apparently many of the stories about Mr Hoare's encounters with "The Master" are too smutty to be revealed to a literary audience [make of that what you will!], so instead he treated us to his meeting with another legendary creature - Miss Katherine Hepburn - and the conversations they had about Noël. [I was green with envy by this point.] Completing the circle, Mr Hoare's third love - and the one writing about which he won the greatest accolades including the Samuel Beckett Prize - was of course, the whale. So successful indeed was Leviathan (his book about the great endangered creatures) that he was asked to create a series of films for the BBC's "Whale Night", among other blubber-related projects, and has returned to the subject for his latest book The Sea Inside, from which he also read a couple of extracts. Utterly fascinating and entrancing, I could have listened to him all night.



Alas, it was almost time to go, as Mr B rounded up our participants for the obligatory on-stage line-up and tumultuous applause from a very appreciative audience of literati.



But it was not quite over yet... It is that time of year, of course - and onto the stage in a shower of baubles and glitter, we welcomed the return of the amazing Singing Christmas Tree! (Marcus Reeves again). Mere words cannot describe the wonder in our eyes and the joy in our hearts...





Sad to bid farewell to another year of brilliance, courtesy of Polari. However, the whole thing is back at the Southbank Centre on 24th January with readings from Christopher Fowler, Joelle Taylor, James Maker, Keith Jarrett and Anya Nyx.

Roll on 2014, I say!

Polari