The Gay & Lesbian Review

well-written picture of depravity.” On the other hand, the van Vechtens were relatively enlightened by the standards of the day in terms of race. For example, Charles wrote accusingly to Carl on reading Nigger Heaven : “I have myself never spoken of a colored man as a ‘nigger.’” White’s account of van Vechten’s turbulent and multi- faceted career is undoubtedly the best we’ll get—and the best its subject could hope for. Informed, nuanced, and balanced, it hes- itates to make claims for the writer that would be hard to sup- port. Yet it vigorously argues for the efficacy of van Vechten’s best novels, such as the autobiographical Peter Whiffle and the many jazz-themed and jazz-styled stories he collected in 1930’s Parties. Ultimately, though, the title of The Tastemaker, it is true, concedes that van Vechten’s most enduring achievements did not lie in his own creativity at all, but in his advocacy of forms of art, and ways of living, through his critical reviews, private recommendations to publishers, sponsorship, and so on. The Tastemaker has pace and brio; White is helped through- out by the sheer vivacity of his subject. The book Parties read- ily summarized the lifestyles in which van Vechten specialized; his writings were always singularly informed by personal ex- perience. He and his second wife, the long-suffering actress Fani Marinoff, could drink almost everyone under the table. They were married for fifty years, though they lived independ- ently and for long periods separately. Throughout his life, van Vechten was, it transpires, open to all offers. The photographic career into which he moved later in life in- cluded portraiture for money as well as van Vechten’s own in- terests. There were few African-American artists of any kind

who did not appear before his lens. But there was an avant- garde thread, too, in which young male beauty, reflected in both the fair- and dark-skinned, was unambiguously celebrated. Van Vechten was, White demonstrates, as imaginative in his many newspaper reviews as he was in his fiction. He willingly elaborated on events, and certainly at times reviewed things he could not possibly have seen. He was as disposed to comment on a fellow audience member’s body odor as on the stagecraft in front of him. A fan of Oscar Wilde, he rhapsodized over each revival of Wilde’s plays, particularly a 1907 performance by Olive Fremstad as Salome in Richard Strauss’ operatic adapta- tion of Wilde’s play at the Met. A half-century later, the world had moved on, and van Vechten’s support for African-American authors, composers, musicians, and actors seemed quaint or even corrupt. In a sense, he was eclipsed as society moved steadfastly in his direction. He donated his monumental collection of African-American cul- tural artifacts to Yale but named it the James Weldon Johnson Memorial Collection of Negro Arts and Letters, knowing that it would thus attract many more contributions than if his own name figured prominently. White wittily summarizes van Vechten’s broader political naïveté as the belief “that the world could be revolutionized one cocktail party at a time.” Still, New York City in particular has always had a place for the unrepentant hedonist. True to form, in his last weeks, in 1963, van Vechten was interviewed by the New Yorker, still stylishly dressed, still downing a Bourbon highball—and still very much, as the magazine put it, “one of the city’s most durable boosters.”

Living Consciously in the Berkshires

F OR THOSE OF US who grew up city-side, the idea of discovering yourself, of settling into place by returning to a landscape of woods

planet by humans yet still attentive to per- sistent patterns of animal behavior: cycles of mating and birth, of killing and feeding, of flight and migration, and of dying. Coyote also displayed the author’s capacity for ob- serving life and human behavior briskly and without sentimentality. The title animal served as the object of Reid’s quest as well as her metaphorical stand-in. An outcast and

R OSEMARY B OOTH

Falling into Place: An Intimate Geography of Home by Catherine Reid Beacon Press. 184 pages, $24.95

and water, not to mention hills and fields re- plete with indigenous wildlife exquisitely tuned to seasons, to weather, to cycles of light and dark, could feel like a foreign con- cept. In these spare and compelling essays, Catherine Reid brings it all back home even for city folk as she re- turns to the scenes of her childhood in the Berkshires. Reid, a professor of creative writing at Warren Wilson Col- lege in Asheville, North Carolina, drew from many of the same experiences a decade ago in a memoir called Coyote: Seeking the Hunter in Our Midst (2004). Falling into Place: An Intimate Ge- ography of Home amplifies the writer’s tale of return, showing not only what drew her back to Massachusetts, but also how she came to leave again, without rancor, but this time for good. Written in a direct, lean style, Coyote marked Reid as a sort of modern naturalist, aware of the harm that’s been visited on the

rogue, the coyote is poorly understood and widely reviled. As a lesbian, Reid had felt similar stings of social rejection, and this insight propelled her search. For most of Coyote Reid was the pursuer, following animal tracks and calls. Near the end of the book, as she was about to re-enter her car after an ex- hausting day combing the woods around a deserted concrete dam, she found herself staring at a coyote. Suddenly seeing what she had been seeking so arduously, the author realized that the search had readied her to confront major fears in her own life. As a kind of sequel to Coyote , the essays in Falling into Place trace a similar arc of return and discovery. The essays are roughly chronological. Thus, in the opening essay, “Song Heart Rail,” we meet the author’s partner Holly and learn that the pair has just moved into to an old farmhouse they bought near where Reid’s

Rosemary Booth is a writer and photographer living in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

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