By Armistead Maupin
Kishore Kumar
I wandered out like a haggard ghost, and there she was, Frisco — long, bleak streets with trolley wires all shrouded in fog and whiteness.
~ Jack Kerouac
Tales of the City was originally published as a daily newspaper serial, much like Dickens’ Oliver Twist. But Armistead Maupin, the author, has been compared to Dickens in other ways too. His realistic and captivating depiction of the seventies reminds one of the Victorian England of David Copperfield. Brilliant characterisation, a page-turner of a plot, and a keen eye for humanity make the books ready favourites.
‘Tales of the City’ and ‘More Tales of the City’ By Armistead Maupin
A total of seven books have been published in the series, beginning with Tales of the City in 1978, followed by More Tales of the City in 1980, ending in the most recent seventh book, Michael Tolliver Lives, published in 2005.
The ‘City’ is San Francisco. The time is the 1970’s. And the plot is riveting.
An enigmatic landlady called Anna Madrigal who invites tenants into her territory with a neatly rolled joint pinned to their doors, has a hundred secrets up her sleeve. A rookie in the ways of Frisco, Mary Ann Singleton from Cleveland struggles through, and enjoys, the process of making the City her home which she will not be able to leave even for the love of her life. Michael Tolliver, ‘a perfect Kinsey six’, born to ultraconservative homophobic parents from the country, moves from one boyfriend to another until he finds love in a Jon Fielding of the unlikely profession of Gynaecology, loses it, and finds it again. Mona Ramsey, one of Mrs Madrigal’s tenants, is treasured by the landlady very much like a daughter – perhaps too much so. Love comes knocking to the door of Brian Hawkins, the single boy next-door, though in a very, very weird way. And then there is Norman Neal Williams, the inscrutable occupant of the Penthouse who charms as he disgusts. And finally the Halcyons, a filthy rich business family whose lives get uncannily intertwined with those of Mrs Madrigal’s little family.
This potpourri of characters living at 28, Barbary Lane, San Francisco, have their lives meet in a way guaranteed to captivate. And through their time together, they emerge a family as strong as any, joined in bonds stronger than blood. Straight, gay, lesbian and transgender – they’re all there, living in perfect harmony and pride, evolving through their experiences. The characterisation by the author is immaculate and flawless. The characters are consistent and believable to begin with, and as you follow them, you will find yourself by turns rejoicing and weeping with them. And perhaps even find a little bit of yourself in their unlikely tale.
Which brings us to the plot, the final touch of perfection. In the first book, the group at 28, Barbary Lane takes its full shape as a family and embarks on adventures of self discovery, grand deceptions, illicit love affairs, spy-detectives, friendship and love found and lost, culminating in a couple of deaths, one after a beautiful love story, another in very mysterious circumstances. The second book begins with an innocent stranger’s love, goes to someone’s tracing of their roots to a desert whorehouse, rediscovery of a lost love in an old flame on a wet Mexican dance-floor, and ends in the revelation of a great secret no seasoned reader would ever have suspected. Moving from trailer parks to bathhouses, from bars to supermarkets, from fat-farms to high society parties of the A-Gays, we live their lives, always returning to 28, Barbary Lane as our base. Gay, lesbian, straight and transsexual come together in beautiful and even enviable ways in the 70’s Frisco of Maupin’s.
A television miniseries based on the first book was screened in 1993, followed by its sequel in 1998. Capturing a chunk of time along with the period’s sights and sounds, flavours and idiosyncrasies requires a kind of genius Maupin is generously endowed with. Tales of the City did to the 70s’ San Francisco what we very well know Friends did to the 90s’ New York. Gloriously immortalised. That Frisco happens to be the gay capital of the world was no coincidence. Hats off, Armistead Maupin.
