The Gay Place's reputation as the greatest novel about Texas politics ever written was well-deserved. Somehow I got reminded strongly of J.D. Salinger when I was reading this, even though the authors couldn't be more difficult in many ways. I just got that feeling that comes from reading good writing, that sense of smooth narrative flow and apt characterization, the deft humanistic touch and avoidance of tedious writing clichés, that I got in the best parts of Salinger's stuff. From the lack of similar connections by other reviewers, I guess I might have been the only person to feel that way, but apparently Brammer once wrote a short satire of the Kennedy Administration called Glooey based on Salinger's Franny and Zooey, so it's probably more than just a coincidence. Anyway, this is Billy Lee Brammer's only novel, and much like John Kennedy O'Toole's similar situation (or Salinger's, come to think of it), that tragic paucity of output is a black mark on the record of American literature. This is an immensely strong set of three interconnected novellas set in the political scene of 50s Austin, and its boozy, lurid portrayal of the era appears to have benefited from Brammer's history as a member of Lyndon Johnson's staff and circle of confidantes (at least until it was published and Brammer found himself exiled). This is one of the best examples of the "political novel" - each novella has a slightly different set of characters orbiting around the inscrutable dark star of LBJ stand-in Arthur Fenstermaker, whose presence is mostly felt and not seen as everyone drinks heavily and has existential crises and sleeps with each other at will. However, even though politics is the novel's setting and driver of the plot, actual political issues make only very brief, perfunctory appearances. It's really about how all these people deal with the wreckage of their lives and how powerless they feel even as they help Fenstermaker cope with events and run the state, with truly awesome amounts of drinking and cheating along the way. This works well, because it's vastly entertaining without having to spend time on boring things like tax policy. The first story, The Flea Circus, follows Willie, a drunken journalist who edits a paper Fenstermaker likes, and Roy Sherwood, a politician who gets involved in a bribery scandal and is sleeping with Ouida, an associate's estranged wife. The second story, Room Enough to Caper, follows Neil Christiansen, a drunk and US Senator Fenstermaker appointed to fill out a term who has to decide if he wants to run for a full term of his own or leave politics entirely, while he also decides whether to reconcile with his estranged wife Andrea or pursue Elsie, a young girl who works in a bookstore he owns. The third story, Country Pleasures, follows Ray McGown, Fenstermaker's frequently drunk chief assistant, who has to manage the filming of a political film out in the country and decide whether to return to his daughter and estranged wife Vicki, who's also at the ranch, or just get with Sarah, one of Fenstermaker's secretaries. I've made it sound repetitive but it isn't at all - Brammer draws each portrait beautifully, smoothly jumping from person to person over the chapters to emphasize different parts of each story and capture what life was like for people in the antechambers of power. I also appreciated the skillful contrast between the pitch-perfect vernacular of the dialogue, which is a hilarious mix of exaggerated Texan buffoonery and alcoholic meanderings, and the complex poetry of everyone's interior monologues, which are full of dark worryings and secret longings. Brammer could flat-out write, especially when it comes to Fenstermaker's apocalyptic Biblicisms, and he switches from comic to serious register with effortless ease. I also enjoyed whenever the female characters got their own POV sections; Texas politics back then might have been a macho, full-contact sport, but all the women here really filled out the story and showed a different side of all the scheming and maneuvering. Certainly after you finish it you're forced to think a bit on the relationship between these very flawed people and their dedication to a life of politics. Speaking of flawed people in politics, the scandalous behavior described here supposedly hit so close to home that Brammer, who had written for the Texas Observer before LBJ recruited him, was never able to get back into Johnson's good graces, and he eventually died of a drug overdose after being unable to recapture the literary peak he reached here. And what a peak: as a description of Austin during that time (locals will easily recognize places like Scholz Garten), it is unmatched, and the only other political novel in its class is Robert Warren's All the King's Men. Knowing the sad ending to his own personal story gives the ending to the book an extra resonance.
I might have gone with four stars if not for the format of three interlocking novellas. I would have preferred one long, fully connected story. The three novels revolve around the LBJ-like Texas governor Arthur Fenstermaker, although he is, oddly, almost a minor character in the first two novels. They focus more on the younger, less influential political players in the governor's orbit. When Fenstermaker does make an appearance, he demonstrates the raw power of the good ol' boy network of politicking. All of the novels follow the self-inflicted downward spiral of the '50s-era Austin-tatious new rich, in all their debauched and vulgar incarnations. These were people who had started out in a highly idealistic, progressive political movement. They dissolved their lofty liberal hopes for the nation in an endless wash of booze and general moral degradation.Billy Brammer was a staffer for Lyndon B. Johnson, so I have no doubt this is an accurate fictionalization of the time and place. Brammer was a fine writer with a special ability to probe the minds and hearts of characters who recognize their own weaknesses but can't seem to detach themselves from the thrill of power and the fun of being one of the beautiful people. I had some difficulty remaining sympathetic toward the characters. Somewhere around the second chapter of the third novel, I was weary of them, and bored with their faux-apologetic drunken fumbling for each other's fleshy protuberances and dangling bits. It's a credit to Brammer that he created them so convincingly, and I'm grateful to have been reminded of why I stepped away from greater involvement in politics after my own experiences with people of this ilk in college.
Do You like book The Gay Place (1994)?
The Gay Place, a novel with a title that today suggests something entirely different than when written 40 years ago, is widely regarded by many reviewers as the best ever work of fiction about Texas politics. Indeed, when I first read this book (which consists of three loosely linked novellas) decades ago, I enjoyed it immensely and tended to agree with that assessment. But reading it again, I wonder why I felt that way … and why others still hold it so highly. Save for Governor Fenstemaker, who is clearly based on Lyndon Johnson and steals the show throughout the book, almost all of the characters are pretty much duds, drawing very little empathy, and ultimately, even less interest. It’s difficult to develop much interest in what happens to any of these cardboard people, and it’s no wonder that a consummate political manipulator like Fenstemaker had his way with them. Maybe that’s more fact than fiction, and come to think of it, perhaps that’s why people who might have been in the know praise this work so much.
—Ray Grasshoff
So I started reading this because I was going to Austin for spring break, and this is one of the quintessential Austin books. Ugh. It's a set of three political novellas all revolving around a Texas governor based on LBJ. First, the language and style of the book is very dated. Also nothing much seems to happen. Ostensibly it's about politics and politicians, but I think I've been ruined by Sorkin, because really it's just parties, sex and lots of drinking. Occasionally someone tries to bribe someone, but that's about it. Mostly through the first story, I hated this enough to want to give up, but I kept at it for some reason leaving this like an albatross around my neck. I finally made it through with the help of copious speed reading. Can't say that I would recommend.
—Simone
First things first; they should just change the name of this book to "The Flea Circus," which is the title of the first of the three linked short novels that make up this piece. Having read the whole book, I understand why Brammer chose it, but the English language changed on him and it is not a good title now.This is a great novel of American politics. It stands easily with "All the King's Men" and "Advise and Consent."This book is fascinating, shocking, and consistently insightful. It's one of those Philip K. Dick-type novels of nested infidelities among a group of 1950s friends, but instead of being mind-controlled by Venusians, they are all under the thumb of Lyndon Johnson. Brammer was a Johnson staffer in the 1950s, when Johnson was in undisputed control of Texas and Austin was his crown jewel. The character of the governor, Arthur "Goddam" Fenstemaker, was undoubtedly formed by the magnificent bastard himself, and it's true that after the book came out Johnson never spoke to Brammer again.Anyway, there's this mess of Capitol staffers and their wives, running blind drunk around Austin in the 50s, getting in trouble and having sex with each other and trying to be good parents. There are bribery scandals and beautiful foreigners and courageous newspapermen and shenanigans with starlets and parachuting accidents and political intrigue of every stripe. We never stay with any one character for too long (though Fenstemaker is omnipresent), but meet them all and their lives and loves and private tragedies in quick succession. One of my favorite scenes is the very first one, where a small-time politician wakes up drunk in a parking lot and is so disoriented that he starts campaigning randomly at anyone who walks by.The book had an extremely surprising ending for a roman à clef. It's hard to convey how good the ending is, but it's best explained by saying this is art. This book is a novel as an art form, written when people were consciously trying to push realistic novels to do new and surprising things. The ending begins when the reader is plunged into a blind panic at the thought that something terrible may have happened to a character that they only met sixty pages before, but then something else happens, and then something entirely different and terrible happens, and you're left with the same lingering suspicion that you've had all three novels that Fenstemaker orchestrated it somehow.
—Geoff Sebesta
