Early signs of wonderful
Around May, I began to notice Caroline sharing many, many posts about an upcoming Australian film called Holding the Man (HTM for when I get lazy). Being nosy, I looked into this further, only to discover that the film was, in fact, a gay love story. Knowing that my nephew would be really keen to see it, I started sharing the links to the film. Noticing my interest, Caroline shared some special news with me...her godson, Craig Stott, was actually starring in the movie! Her excitement and pride in the project was infectious, and I couldn't help but get caught up in the buzz as she shared her pictures from the world premiere at the Sydney International Film Festival in June.
That was about the time I realised that there was to be another premiere event, at the Melbourne International Film Festival. Melbourne. Sigh. I was itching to return to Melbourne after a ridiculously short visit in 2013 during which I spent two days standing in Muse queues. Yes. I really am that dedicated (and by dedicated, I mean mental). At this point, things went a little crazy...
First, I persuaded Caroline to join me in the Twitterverse (a move she may be regretting) where she continued to spread the excitement about HTM. I purchased the book on Kindle and spent a couple of days riding an emotional roller-coaster, trying to read words on my computer screen though eyes that seemed intent on misting over repeatedly. Conversations between Caroline and myself, and eventually Craig led to me asking him for an interview. For those of you have who read my 'interview' with Peter Bailey, you will probably realise that me asking for an interview basically means that I just want to chat about random stuff that may or may not be related to the person's job. Anyway, because Craig's a lovely bloke, and possibly because Caroline convinced him that I'm not a total lunatic, he agreed and I planned ways to make this happen via the interwebs.
However, I had not counted on the crazy workings of the universe and changing plans. I have no idea who suggested the Melbourne trip first, but once the seed was planted, it took root and grew quickly. I found myself checking flights (Oh, look! I have enough points to cover a trip to Melbourne) and trying to buy tickets to MIFF (Oh, they are all sold out. I can't go). When an act of incredible generosity on Caroline's behalf presented me with the opportunity to actually see the movie, I eventually decided that I shouldn't ignore the door that was opening. I booked my leave, booked my flights and made preparations to leave my kids in loving, capable hands. I was going to Melbourne!
Back it up a little
I need to share a little about the book for you to understand just how profound an effect it had on me. If you have not yet read it, and you simply must, consider this to be a spoiler warning. Bear in mind that I am no literature expert and I should read far more widely that I do, but I can tell you how a book makes me feel, and making you feel is one thing that Holding the Man does well.
I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I'd never heard of the book prior to this year, and the fact that I'm not alone in this is a tragedy. Holding the Man is the 1995 memoir of Australian actor/writer/activist, Timothy Conigrave. Full of hilarity and familiar Australianisms, it follows Tim's life and his fifteen year relationship with high school sweetheart, John Caleo.
Let me kick off with a quick bio of the author taken from the front of the Kindle e-book:
Timothy Conigrave was born in Melbourne in 1959 and educated at Xavier College and Monash University. He trained as an actor at the National Institute of Dramatic Art, graduating in 1984. He appeared in such plays as Brighton Beach Memoirs and As Is and with The Fabulous Globos. He initiated the project Soft Targets, seen at Griffin Theatre in 1986. His other plays include Blitz Kids and Thieving Boy. Timothy Conigrave died in October 1994, ten days after completing Holding the Man.
Conigrave, Timothy (1996-07-02). Holding the Man (Kindle Locations 67-71). Penguin Group Australia. Kindle Edition.
Tim's gift for honest story-telling (sometimes to the point of mortification) dragged me into their lives so completely that I felt as though I was reading about good friends. I could easily picture them and could even see the 'Tim' and 'John' from my own school days; boys who would fit the same character profiles. Tim, the creative and flamboyant activist and John, the quiet but macho footie hero. I knew them by other names, but I knew them nonetheless. Having said that, I couldn't imagine this story ever playing out in my gold-mining hometown in the bush as it did within the more diverse cultures of Melbourne and Sydney. Despite this, I felt profoundly connected to the story in ways I hadn't anticipated.
The early parts of this story, when the boys first meet, took me straight back to my childhood in the 70s and 80s. The Australian slang and unique vocabulary, the teen-speak and the awkwardness of early conversations on the phone with your crush were disturbingly familiar. My family didn't have a home phone until 1979! I was eleven years old and in love with a boy named Ewan who was a year older than me . He gave me his phone number and I still recall making that first terrifying phone call. I'd been praying that he would answer the phone, but, of course, it was an adult and I could barely speak. She was impatient and snappy with me while I stuttered out who I was and with whom I wanted to speak. Such a scarring experience for the painfully shy child that I was. I have no idea what we spoke about. In all likelihood it was the chops, potatoes and peas of John and Tim's conversation.
The early parts of this story, when the boys first meet, took me straight back to my childhood in the 70s and 80s. The Australian slang and unique vocabulary, the teen-speak and the awkwardness of early conversations on the phone with your crush were disturbingly familiar. My family didn't have a home phone until 1979! I was eleven years old and in love with a boy named Ewan who was a year older than me . He gave me his phone number and I still recall making that first terrifying phone call. I'd been praying that he would answer the phone, but, of course, it was an adult and I could barely speak. She was impatient and snappy with me while I stuttered out who I was and with whom I wanted to speak. Such a scarring experience for the painfully shy child that I was. I have no idea what we spoke about. In all likelihood it was the chops, potatoes and peas of John and Tim's conversation.
Then there's the teen angst; parents who just don't understand the intensity of your emotions at that tender age, music that becomes a loyal friend who understands what you're going through, secret defiant meetups, note-passing. I know I'm not the only one who lived this. The familiarity with which Tim wrote these experiences totally eliminated any awareness of fact that I was reading about two boys falling in love. Open discussion of his sexuality had, quite rightly, no bearing on the sweetness of their developing relationship.
Moving forward into the university years, I found more personal connections. For me, this period of my life happened between 1986 and 1988, a good ten years after the experiences related in HTM. While the book hardly parallels my life, I still found so much to hook onto. I remember the uni activists clearly - the politically minded kids who were heavily involved in campus causes. I certainly wasn't one of them. I guess I can relate to John in that regard. I was the quiet kid, getting on with my studies, occasionally getting drunk and not particularly involved in the university lifestyle. I had a series of boyfriends, one of them serious enough for me to actually marry at the young and dumb age of twenty one. When Tim talked about the urge to explore outside of his relationship, I definitely understood the sentiment, having been with my partner for many years at that time when my friends were all out and about, partying and having fun.
My marriage inevitably ended a couple of years later and I began to date. It was an exciting time, but it came with the spectre of the frightening AIDS warnings and TV ads, such as the one featuring the Grim Reaper bowling. Still, as I mentioned, young and dumb. I had been with one particular boyfriend for several months when I started to get sick. Tonsillitis struck first. Then, about 5 months later, I became constantly nauseous, faint and incredibly tired, to the point where I would fall asleep almost as soon as I sat down. I visited the doctor many, many times. They took blood repeatedly and sent it off for testing, but nothing came up to explain my illness. I developed a massive cold-sore on my chin, my glands were all swollen, my abdomen was tender, I lost my job and still the doctor had no idea what was wrong. I don't remember where we were or how the conversation came about, but one day my desperately worried dad looked at me and said, "I hope you don't have AIDS."
My world rocked on its axis. Had that thought crossed my mind? Of course. Had I been having safe sex? At first...yes. But the longer I stayed with this boy, the more relaxed we became, and I was on the pill after all. Pregnancy was our biggest concern, right? This became a time of nightmares. I was truly terrified, particularly with the ongoing lack of diagnosis. Finally, a doctor decided to send my blood sample to the city for analysis. When it finally came back, I don't think he had ever seen a patient so happy to be diagnosed with glandular fever in his career!
Somehow, I had managed to repress the memory of this entire ordeal, so when I hit the section of Holding the Man where the boys received their HIV positive diagnosis, I was totally swamped with traumatic emotion. For them - so young, so oblivious to the risk, so in love -and for me - who should have known better than to end up in a situation like that.
I spent the rest of the book in tears or near-tears, trying to read on-screen pages that insisted on blurring. I walked away many times, knowing exactly how things were going to end, and trying to delay the inevitable despite Tim's beautiful, heart-felt story-telling. I fell in love with them both and wanted nothing more than to just hold them as they dealt with the unfair consequences of their naivete. I have so much admiration for Tim's resolve to tell his story, warts and all. He could have held back, he could have painted himself in brighter colours, but he lets the reader in to see everything of himself.
Tim also gives us a picture of John Caleo in his book. In descriptions of his lover, Tim allowed himself to be generous. I was left with an image of John as a calm, quiet and sweet soul who was loved by all. In Tim's eyes, John was tolerant and forgiving, loyal and loving. On the surface they appeared to be a mismatch, but Tim took me on a journey that proved, without a doubt, that their love ran deep.
Reaching the end of the book is devastating. This beautiful love story deserved a happy ending after the hardship and trauma endured by the boys. If there is any rightness to the universe, Tim and John are now together, still in love and happy.
Moving forward into the university years, I found more personal connections. For me, this period of my life happened between 1986 and 1988, a good ten years after the experiences related in HTM. While the book hardly parallels my life, I still found so much to hook onto. I remember the uni activists clearly - the politically minded kids who were heavily involved in campus causes. I certainly wasn't one of them. I guess I can relate to John in that regard. I was the quiet kid, getting on with my studies, occasionally getting drunk and not particularly involved in the university lifestyle. I had a series of boyfriends, one of them serious enough for me to actually marry at the young and dumb age of twenty one. When Tim talked about the urge to explore outside of his relationship, I definitely understood the sentiment, having been with my partner for many years at that time when my friends were all out and about, partying and having fun.
My marriage inevitably ended a couple of years later and I began to date. It was an exciting time, but it came with the spectre of the frightening AIDS warnings and TV ads, such as the one featuring the Grim Reaper bowling. Still, as I mentioned, young and dumb. I had been with one particular boyfriend for several months when I started to get sick. Tonsillitis struck first. Then, about 5 months later, I became constantly nauseous, faint and incredibly tired, to the point where I would fall asleep almost as soon as I sat down. I visited the doctor many, many times. They took blood repeatedly and sent it off for testing, but nothing came up to explain my illness. I developed a massive cold-sore on my chin, my glands were all swollen, my abdomen was tender, I lost my job and still the doctor had no idea what was wrong. I don't remember where we were or how the conversation came about, but one day my desperately worried dad looked at me and said, "I hope you don't have AIDS."
My world rocked on its axis. Had that thought crossed my mind? Of course. Had I been having safe sex? At first...yes. But the longer I stayed with this boy, the more relaxed we became, and I was on the pill after all. Pregnancy was our biggest concern, right? This became a time of nightmares. I was truly terrified, particularly with the ongoing lack of diagnosis. Finally, a doctor decided to send my blood sample to the city for analysis. When it finally came back, I don't think he had ever seen a patient so happy to be diagnosed with glandular fever in his career!
Somehow, I had managed to repress the memory of this entire ordeal, so when I hit the section of Holding the Man where the boys received their HIV positive diagnosis, I was totally swamped with traumatic emotion. For them - so young, so oblivious to the risk, so in love -and for me - who should have known better than to end up in a situation like that.
I spent the rest of the book in tears or near-tears, trying to read on-screen pages that insisted on blurring. I walked away many times, knowing exactly how things were going to end, and trying to delay the inevitable despite Tim's beautiful, heart-felt story-telling. I fell in love with them both and wanted nothing more than to just hold them as they dealt with the unfair consequences of their naivete. I have so much admiration for Tim's resolve to tell his story, warts and all. He could have held back, he could have painted himself in brighter colours, but he lets the reader in to see everything of himself.
Tim also gives us a picture of John Caleo in his book. In descriptions of his lover, Tim allowed himself to be generous. I was left with an image of John as a calm, quiet and sweet soul who was loved by all. In Tim's eyes, John was tolerant and forgiving, loyal and loving. On the surface they appeared to be a mismatch, but Tim took me on a journey that proved, without a doubt, that their love ran deep.
Reaching the end of the book is devastating. This beautiful love story deserved a happy ending after the hardship and trauma endured by the boys. If there is any rightness to the universe, Tim and John are now together, still in love and happy.
Wow. I must say that I wasn't going to read the book, despite the many, many posts I found on my twitter tl, but now that I read this, I might change my mind about that (might). You have a great way of telling things and it might persuade me.
ReplyDeleteThat time were you thought you might have had aids, must have been so scary. And I'm really glad you didn't. I would never have met you and that is 1 of the positive things in my life, so thank god for glandular fever.
Wow. I must say that I wasn't going to read the book, despite the many, many posts I found on my twitter tl, but now that I read this, I might change my mind about that (might). You have a great way of telling things and it might persuade me.
ReplyDeleteThat time were you thought you might have had aids, must have been so scary. And I'm really glad you didn't. I would never have met you and that is 1 of the positive things in my life, so thank god for glandular fever.