Skinny Dipping Into Books

Does anyone remember 1987? I don’t. I was 7….8. I remember AIDS though.
 No one called it HIV. No one distinguished it. No one really, truly 
even validated it. HIV literally pushed gays into the public sphere, and
 unfortunately not in the best of ways.




I remember meeting this guy, this gay fellow when I was about 
12. He had HIV; I was told this, like some stupid preemptive warning. I 
remember looking at him with awe. He was young, beautiful in the 
crispness of his pride and his flawless presentation. Even in a T-shirt, 
he had control of a room. He was the first gay guy I ever met, and 
rather than being scared, and not taking my distance, cautious of 
catching HIV, I was enthralled just like our June. Oh, and he introduced me to colognes.



I was wearing some parody Fruit Of The Loom shirt that read, “freak of 
the loom” or something equally stupid. I remember sinking back in my 
room, tearing the shirt off, and resenting the buy outright. This 
is how we were back then, so cautious, all jittery methodical in our 
behavior.  


Onward to the book…



It is centered on June’s relationship with her Uncle Finn and the 
implications of both her infatuation with him and his AIDS status. It 
focuses, however brief and ill constructed, on the family dynamics 
altered both by June’s relationship with Finn, but especially on 
Finn’s slow decline and death. We only briefly meet the mortal Finn, 
but like the HIV chorus found in Two Boys Kissing, his voice vibrates across 
the pages, and imparting some of himself on those he left. There 
are more characters, but with the exception of Toby and Greta, 
they stay in the shadows.



This book perfectly encapsulates the narrative of gay 
from this period in time. June, our primary character navigates the 
terrain with all the confusion and personal conflict bearing down on 
her. Can Chap Stick spread this foreign illness? A kiss on the head? Will Finn’s status 
muck up their relationship? Confusion abounds. no 
one is left unscathed.



Furthermore, it is about fortifying relationships long fragmented from 
years upon years of jealousy and loneliness—Greta, her mom, etc.  
Some of these relationships fractured long ago, while others, built on 
long, far-reaching stilts once perceived as indestructible, faded 
against the backdrop of heart-breaking sorrow. There is an internal 
struggle between remembering the person you once thought you knew 
through and through, and integrating the other identities he molded 
outside your relationship. This was June’s struggle, and even with past 
memories to rest her head on and Toby—who seemed the most reliable 
source, or maybe June figured they shared the same image, and as such 
she didn’t need to disregard the image she had of Finn—, this 
was her struggle.  Will learning that the image etched in her mind of 
her uncle isn’t fully constructed affect her relationship with her 
Uncle?



It primarily focuses on the awakening of a friendship between those 
equally affected by a loved ones death, and the strangeness of it all. June and Toby’s
 relationship will test the boundaries of trust, empathy and the power 
of vulnerability, and the ways they are both personal constructions as 
well as threads tethering them together. It’s up to them to figure
 out how to mend these two conflicting states.  



While the general concept and structure holds this novel together, there
 are items that fray it at the edges. The relationship between June and 
her sister Greta is so bizarrely formulated that it felt slapped 
together at the last moment. There are moments that Greta abandons 
her former self; this is to be expected, she is 16 after all. However, 
many of her actions are so oddball and without any proper explanation I 
was left feeling a bit disconnected. In short, I found that she was not 
very relatable.   



June’s ‘relationship’ with a peer is forced, and in the end distracts 
from the storyline. It was utterly ill-fitting and did not show what 
I felt was proper, given what I knew of her. She just didn’t dig 
guys her own age; not yet at least.



Each of these is a marker of an immature, not yet developed author. 
However, my principal complaint is a female character.  It 
was so Gillian Finn, so shocking to introduce an underage character 
that failed to reign and contain her feelings. It used common themes 
echoed in books a decade old and in the end was 
incredibly redundant and derivative.  I agree with the reviewers whom suggested this book would be far more successful if it had a male 
character. This would have accomplished a few things.




If the main character was attempting to build and understand his own
 self-identity and sexuality, the primarily concern I broach later about
 ‘incest’ may have assuaged many reviewers provoked by June’s 
infatuation with her Uncle. Rather than attracted to Finn on a physical
 level he could have focused on his lifestyle and the confusion that 
abounds as a direct result of him questioning his own sexuality. Maybe sexual attraction was unavailable. It may or 
may not have had subtle nuances of sexual attraction, but I believe they
 would have been radically different if the main character was male. He 
would have pulled away from obvious displays of intimacy and 
internalized them as wrong (possibly, maybe?), and most likely reacted 
in an angry, defensive way.



Conversely, it would have allotted for a much needed editing and a more 
believable story storyline if the author curved away from overt forms of
 intimacy and, having a male character, introduced a higher level of 
emotional turmoil even without including issues with perceived sexual 
identity. Imagine the pull between a male teenager admiration with his 
gay older uncle, but wretched by emotional disequilibrium derived from the 
uncles sexuality? 



Then we get to the controversy of ‘incest’ that was overtly handed, 
perhaps too heavy handily, from the first page to the very last. I 
shouldn’t have to note this, but one of the explicit elements of incest 
is a sexual relationship. So, that didn’t happen. Lets call it relentless, misguided infatuation. It is self-evident 
that many readers have displaced memories of how easy it was to become 
infatuated with older role models. Is it a stretch that June regarded 
these feelings as something beyond the boundaries of friendship? 
Perhaps. Is it beyond the boundaries of friendship to thoroughly 
disregard the blemishes of the people we once admired? Nah. I guess that is were infatuation lies, between our own insecurities and the act of idolizing others with a total disregard for their own struggles and challenges. We also may 
want to remember that, although there was this element of extreme 
intimacy, June never revealed true sexual feelings, but rather 
illustrated her unpolished understanding of intimacy. I do think 
peoples’ reactions to this part of the book neglected to realize that
 it wasn’t in fact sexual, but a high level of intimacy/admiration; once
 again, teenage lens. For those who imbedded a cultural viewpoint, the novel came off 
as overtly sexual because June was a female character, and our minds 
possibly discounted that intimacy doesn’t have to include sexual 
behavior, and how hard it is to sometime realize this—both as teenagers 
and as adults equally.  It’s far easier to understand this issue from 
the surface, and express discontent, than it is to look at the smaller 
details. Plus, fiction anyone?




Others have fought against the references and use of alcohol by those 
who are underage, and further expressed a fury of anger over an adult 
contributing to this behavior. I find this perspective a bit dated, as 
well as a clear sign of their own explicit wiliness to approach 
books from their own lens, and not to detach themselves and venture 
into the June’s world without a sense of familiarity. Also, they 
probably have never passed a newsstand, or watched anything but G rated movies, or walked down the street, or turned on the TV, or read a review before buying/taking a loan of this book.The notion 
that all books should somehow act as a guidance counselor, edging young 
readers to adults’ orientation to maturity, adulthood, and ethically 
sound behavior, is absurd and frankly a bit delusional; I bet you were 
all-stars when you were 14. Also, seriously, this mindset strips away a 
teenagers’ means of self-expression, identity exploration, and the 
benefit of mistakes. It’s even more absurd if you find yourself 
understanding this book as a coming of age novel.



An objective lens, and a reflection of our own past as well as the 
dangerous climate, and contempt of homosexuality and HIV/AIDS during the
 80s will help nourish the way you regard this 
novel.