Dave Eggers writes:
"JT Leroy's first two books, Sarah and The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, will prove to be among the most influential American books of the last ten years. This is not because they are read and understood by everyone; it's because they are read and loved, rabidly, by thousands of young and very sensitive people who believe that JT speaks for them. He does speak for them, and does so without knowing that he does, and does so with a perfect and bizarre eloquence. JT is in the company of Denis Johnson, Raymond Carver and Thom Jones, in having the ability to take the profane and miserable and making it exquisite. The worlds they bring us to are bleak and seemingly godless, but somehow we cherish our time there. How can they do this? The answer is in the words they choose to define hell. They do not choose the usual words, and in this we find pleasure.

harold's end

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Books: Harold's End by J.T. Leroy
Wild in the streets
By John Ziebell

The author--or perhaps the literary construct--J. T. LeRoy is a good example of the dictum that truth--or perhaps perceived reality--is indeed stranger than fiction.

LeRoy started writing not quite a decade ago at age 16 and has garnered accolades from a number of artists and performers who exist, or once existed, beyond the borders of the mainstream. Tom Waits, John Waters, Dave Eggers and Lou Reed provide cover blurbs for LeRoy's latest work, the novella Harold's End; even Liv Tyler, bless her literary acumen, praises the power of his work. Dennis Cooper, Bruce Benderson and Mary Gaitskill have served the author as mentors. All in all, that's a pretty good track record for a diminutive, mid-20s recluse of indeterminate gender who, we're told unflinchingly, grew up as a truck stop "lot lizard," following in the footsteps of his prostitute/drug addict mother.

Not that being the celebrity world's former child prostitute du jour takes anything away from LeRoy's prose; he's published two other books, contributed to a grocery list of respectable publications and has even written liner notes and bios for Billy Corgan and Courtney Love. But it is certainly interesting to look at who's promoting whom. I mean, what would Oprah say? Because Harold's End, though compelling, is not your feelgood kind of story; it's actually about contemporary urchins working Polk Street in San Francisco, kids turning tricks to buy heroin for themselves and food for their pets.

As you might guess, this scenario doesn't make for the cheeriest of narratives. However, while LeRoy does give us some moments that illuminate humankind in its desire-fueled failings, the tale doesn't mire itself in sordid detail. The prose is simple and lucid, and the perspective of Oliver, the first-person protagonist, is one of existential spareness. We're not supposed to miss the point that detachment is the core philosophy at work here. What saves Oliver, and by implication his friends, from the horror of their existence is a lack of engagement where commerce is involved. To care about anything is to care, period; and caring, we comprehend, opens the door to psychological ground that no underage street prostitute should want to spend much time contemplating. At least not without heroin.

LeRoy's characters are shielded even from each other by street names and personae, but in a work this compact, they've got to wear some humanity on their sleeves; we see it in their familiars, the pets they choose--a pit bull, a snake, a rat. Pets are, of course, about unconditional love, and when the story opens, Oliver is the only person among his peers who lacks one. The title character, Harold, is a common garden snail given to him by Larry, a confused but generous trick who'd be almost likable if it weren't for the circumstances under which we meet him. No, a snail is not a normal pet, but Oliver is not a character who inspires an excess of faith, so in the end they seem pretty well-matched. The conceit does inspire some unique moments, but while the novella is carefully crafted, it's neither unpredictable nor demanding. Still, the brief arc of Howard's life--less than 80 pages of prose--manages to be poignant without feeling hopeless, a noteworthy feat considering the subjects at hand.

Finally, a couple notes on the text itself: Last Gasp's clothbound volume is exquisitely made, complete with a satin ribbon bookmark for a work that would honestly be tough to stretch beyond one sitting. And there is a very creepy beauty in the color plates that accompany the text, watercolor portraits of the characters and their pets by the Australian artist Cherry Hood, which convey a sense of bruised innocence in a manner sometimes more eloquent than the words they illustrate.
http://www.lasvegasmercury.com/2005/MERC-Feb-03-Thu-2005/25773624.html

San Francisco Bay Guardian, January 26 - Feb 1 edition
By JT LeRoy. Last Gasp, 99 pages, $19.95.

JT LeRoy's unwillingness to veer beyond his own tortured past in his fiction is literary stubbornness at its most rewarding. Like LeRoy's first two novels, Sarah and The Heart Is Deceitful above All Things, Harold's End (an extended revision of a short story published in McSweeney's three years ago) draws largely from LeRoy's drug- and abuse-filled youth. Any skepticism that the enigmatic author is merely mining old work to quell his anxious fans is quickly buried, though. The book begins along a grimy stretch of Polk Street, where homeless kids nurture and compare their exotic pets while they wait to fuck for heroin. LeRoy's ability to shine a light on the darkest corners of hell to expose the humanity in society's most depraved, neglected castoffs – this time by showing that having been loved isn't a necessary prerequisite for the ability to share love – has evolved indisputably. Harold's End is his most optimistic work yet.

The 25-year-old author's work has been rewarded with a Palm d'Or at Cannes (he wrote the first draft of Gus Van Zant's Elephant), studied in prestigious universities, and lauded with superlative-filled praise by everyone from Dave Eggers to Lou Reed. The widespread highbrow and academic appeal may stem from LeRoy's authentically desperate but resigned brand of hope; vultures of abandonment and guilt constantly haunt his protagonists. But the reason dog-eared copies of his bestsellers are treasured by such a diverse cross-section of our confused nation is because of his skill in vividly manifesting the distress that tugs at each of our souls so clearly and unforgettably.

The struggle to want to keep surviving is the core of Harold's End. In one scene, after weeks of living as a pampered pet of his sugar daddy, Oliver, the narrator, has entered a perceived ambush at the hands of his trusted benefactor. Disarmed and helpless, he lies on the ground, awaiting a violent doom. "This is how pain always comes on, from a vague distance before revealing the detailed facts," LeRoy writes. "I lie there and wait to know how bad it will be. I feel his ragged breath above me."

LeRoy's authority in crafting this determined, deserted little boy, combined with illustrator Cherry Hood's heart-wrenching watercolor portraits, makes a deep empathy with the narrator's plight inevitable. On the book's cover, Oliver's frizzy, dishwater-blond hair and weathered cheeks recall the lost youths memorialized by a thousand milk cartons, but staring into his deep, lucid eyes is like looking into a dirty mirror. Knowing that no one else loves him makes you want to love him even more. (Liam O'Donoghue)

A Different Light Bookstore reading by pals of JT LeRoy -- Jerry Harrison of the Talking Heads, Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind, Penelope Houston of the Avengers and Jennifer Hall of "Unscripted'' among them -- preceded last Thursday's opening of the San Francisco Independent Film Festival, a showing of "The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things,'' based on LeRoy's novel.

LeRoy called on Friday, pumped about the opening, his success and the fact that he was about to fly to New York, where Coca-Cola was paying for him to be on hand for Fashion Week festivities. "It's so weird,'' he said about being a celebrity, "do you know who I am?''

The bewigged novelist, who's got an in-demand band, Thistle, has been a muse to fashion designers and is an unembarrassed fan of the free-clothes-and- food scene. He says he's been cast (figuratively) in the starring role of a "new Warhol'' era. "I guess 'cause I'm the one wearing the wig, I get to be Warhol.'' After the movie, LeRoy and pals, including Shirley Manson, Tatum O'Neal and Jeremy Renner, repaired to Aziza for dinner, still something of a miracle to a person who used to find his meals in Dumpsters. "After this movie, '' he said in a tone of pleased awe, "I had places saying 'Come to us, bring your party here.' '' But the most meaningful part of the evening, he said, was that his therapist, Terence Owens, was there to see the movie that tells LeRoy's story.

P.S.: LeRoy called back a few minutes later. When Carrie Fisher read at A Clean Well-Lighted Place for Books, he said, the store invited her to take any one volume on its shelves for her 12-year-old daughter, Billie. She chose "Harold's End,'' LeRoy's latest.
 

New Village Voice Review:
Pet Sounds: LeRoy Nails Confused and Addled Adolescence
A friend of JT's had this to say:
JT: Thanks for passing this. Most writers are criticized for treading the same water but here you've made a decision to reverse the fate of this character, to empower him, and at the same time release all the compacted emotion of the prior pages. I think that was a good decision. And yet some readers, perhaps this writer being one, will expect the same old fates. I do find the state of criticism occasionally frustrating in that what passes for thoughtful response can reduce simply to "There are a lot of movies coming out of Hollywood with positive endings, and Hollywood is bad, so positive endings are bad."

Cherry Hood has beautifully illustrated this short story by JT, soon to be released by Last Gasp Books. The book won't be available until December, but you can pre-order from the Amazon link!

These are pictures of the amazing Cherry Hood with her illustrations. They are hand made prints of the paintings for Harold's End, each one individually printed with archival inks on watercolour paper by Martin King at Australian Print Workshop in Melbourne. They are a limited edition of 60 and only available in box sets of eight. Each print is approx 900mm high.

When she sent them, Cherry said, "I am going to Melbourne next week to sign them. It will take two days. They are very strict about quality control and the editions. Everything that leaves the print workshop has to be signed and numbered. It is a very interesting process."

JT will sign some, as well.

Cherry Hood:


Cherry Hood and the printmaker, Martin King:


Martin King and his assistant, Warren: