TERRY GROSS, HOST:
Charles Rowan Beyes is a retired professor of ancient Greek, but his new memoir, "My Husband and My Wives: A Gay Man's Odyssey," tells a tale that's startlingly contemporary. Book critic Maureen Corrigan has a review.
MAUREEN CORRIGAN, BYLINE: Given the glut of autobiographies these days, a provocative subject alone isn't enough to snag a reader's attention, although admittedly, the title of Charles Rowan Beye's new memoir, "My Husband and My Wives," is certainly arresting. It's Beye's charming raconteur's voice, however, and his refusal to bend anecdotes into the expected lessons, that really makes this memoir such a knockout.
Beye won me over in his introduction, when he admitted that, looking back at the long span of his life - he's now over 80 - the big question he still asks himself is, what was that all about? That is a saga that begins in Iowa in 1930, where Beye was born into a Midwestern WASP family. He and his five siblings were schooled in the upper class art of making conversation or, as he deems it, hiding behind brilliance.
Eventually, however, even Beye's mother couldn't blink away his budding homosexuality. Beye was in junior high and enjoying a limited menu of sexual adventures with mostly straight boys, when the local Episcopal priest informed Beye's mother that her son's name was scrawled, along with a sexual slur, on a men's room wall. Mother promptly dispatched her wayward son to a psychiatrist, who counter to almost every other psychiatrist in every work of gay literature ever written, turns out to be a compassionate man. The shrink simply counsels the 15-year-old Beye to be more discreet.
Things take an even more unexpected turn when Beye meets an intellectually sparkling woman named Mary in college, and at the end of their first hour of conversation in a drugstore booth, Beye looks at her and declares, this has been great. I think we should get married. At 21, he had never slept with a woman. Nevertheless, they do marry, happily, and when Mary suddenly dies of a freak heart condition a few years later, Beye remarries and fathers four children, all along maintaining his core identity as a gay man and enjoying an abundant sex life, described in great fleshy detail here, with gay and straight men.
As emotionally charged as Beye's moments of sexual self-scrutiny can be, he's downright sarcastic when talking about his public career in academia. Now retired, Beye was a professor of ancient Greek and he came of academic age in the era when an old boys' network of hail-fellow-well-met senior professors arranged jobs for their acolytes over martini-soaked dinners.
Sloshing into one of those positions at Stanford, Beye confronts a lineup of eccentrically hostile colleagues. When he dares to pipe up at a faculty meeting, one of those colleagues, a rare elderly lady, turns to him and shouts, shut up, you mutt, you're new here. For Beye, the life of the mind affords nearly as many baffling encounters as does the life of the body.
Beye's memoir ends on a joyous note. He and his husband of the title have been married for some four years, together for 20. Bowing to his background in ancient Greek, Beye subtitled his memoir "A Gay Man's Odyssey," but he might just as well have availed himself of the affirmative LGBTQ slogan, it gets better.
GROSS: Maureen Corrigan teaches literature at Georgetown University. She reviewed "My Husband and My Wives: A Gay Man's Odyssey" by Charles Rowan Beye. You can read an excerpt on our website, FreshAir.npr.org, where you can also download podcasts of our show and you can follow us on Twitter at NPRFreshAir and on Tumblr at NPRFreshAir.Tumblr.com.
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