Author Steven Rowley: “I love stories that celebrate older queer characters.” (Photo by Afonso Salcedo)
RICH LOPEZ | Staff writer
Rich@DallasVoice.com
The Guncle author returns but this time, Steven Rowley gets a little spacy — sort of. In Take Me With You, Rowley explores a whole new problem faced by husbands Jesse and Norman.
And like any self-sustaining author, he’s on the road in support of the new title, and that brings him to Dallas, where his book tour stops at Interabang Books on May 27.
Ahead of his appearance, Rowley visited with Dallas Voice to discuss the premise of Take Me With You as well as writing for a lost generation and finding inspiration in the queer community.
For tickets to his event, visit InterabangBooks.com.
Dallas Voice: First, an early welcome back to Dallas. Let’s start with the obvious: How do you describe the premise of Take Me With You? Steven Rowley: Thanks! Happy to get back there. So, this book originates from a discussion — not quite an argument — my husband, (author) Byron Lane, and I have: If a UFO appeared in your backyard, shone a beam of light down, and you had a split second to decide, do you go or do you not go?
I guess the next obvious question is what do you two say? My husband’s answer was always yes, but I was more inclined to stay. I love this question because both answers are morally defendable. If you go, it’s about exploration, which is a key goal for a life well-lived, and seeking answers about the universe from a more advanced species is attractive.
But also, staying is about inward exploration, recognizing you can spend a lifetime with one person and still not know everything about them, and trying to find answers about humanity. So this discussion served as the jumping-off point for the novel’s premise.
What were you discovering about your own conversations as you were writing this? While the premise — a man wakes up and thinks he sees his husband disappear into a beam of light — sounds whimsical, the repercussions make it serious and dark, even with humor. That opens up so many questions: Where did he go? Is he coming back? Do I move on? Was I not enough to make him stay? How will I explain what happened? Will people blame me, or will the police or his family come?
Given your body of work, which leans into queer joy over trauma, what’s the difference in writing those two for you? This is my first true love story tackling marriage or romantic partnerships, but all my previous books have been love stories in a way: man and dog (Lily and the Octopus), mother and son (The Editor), siblings (The Guncle) and friends (The Celebrants).
The difference between writing tragedy and comedy/queer joy is like what they said about Shakespeare’s works: the comedies just end with a wedding.
My books have traumatic elements and don’t ignore difficult subjects, but my characters are triumphant to a certain degree.
Why do you think that is? It’s important to write characters that survive because I’m writing happy endings for all those in my generation — I came out in 1992 — who didn’t get theirs.
We may not like it but we’re all getting older. You recently turned 55 — has that changed the way you write queer characters or relationships? Yes, it changes the way I write. I am writing characters my age, such as a couple in the new book who have been together for 30 years. I am no longer writing coming out stories; I have to hand that baton to others who can explore new identities or offer diverse coming out stories.
It’s important to explore issues of queer people and aging because my generation was “robbed” of the generation just above ours, meaning we lack examples of growing older. I want to be that example for the generation behind me, writing characters that reflect the issues I’m experiencing as a man in his 50s.
Is there a particular queer story that you feel hasn’t been told enough? Hmmm. I love stories about older queer characters. Our community is often youth-focused, which tends to make some of our elders invisible. I love stories that celebrate older queer characters.
Do you have red flags that signify any writer’s block is heading your way? It’s not as easy as it looks from the outside. I have found a pace that works for me, which is a book every two to three years. There’s also a part of me that feels like I’m making up for lost time.
I was 45 when my first book, Lily and the Octopus, came out 10 years ago which is insane to me. I was hailed as an “overnight success,” but no one saw the 20 years of backbreaking, heartbreaking work that went into it.
I am aware that an audience is lucky and might not last forever, so I’ve “hit the ground running.”
Is there any part of queer culture that creatively inspires you? Two things inspire me. I learned about the concept of found family through queer literature, like Armstead Maupin’s Tales of the City, and the value of found family is always present in my work.
The second thing is this freedom to invent a life. When I came out, traditional institutions like marriage and having kids were not available. But with those institutions off our shoulders, we were free to invent a life that worked for us.
I’m interested in alternative love stories and relationships, such as the gay throuple in The Gunkle and the open relationship in this new book. I wish every queer person still felt that total freedom to invent a life for themselves. n
Take Me With You is now available at all major booksellers or at StevenRowley.com.