Like a Love Story
Like a Love Story
It’s the irony that hits me first. That I have never felt more alive, while I’m surrounded by people who are dying. In a city that feels completely segregated, this community center is overflowing with people of all races, ages, gender, and income levels. Bankers and dancers, all in one place, with one purpose. To fight the power, to screw the system, and to show the presidents and CEOs of the world what we’re made of. There’s nowhere else in the city with this much energy in it, nowhere with this much color, this much diversity. Maybe death is the great equalizer. Except it’s not. Because only gay people seem to be dying. My people.
Like a Love Story focuses on three young people over the summer of 1989 (plus an “Epilogue”), during the height of the AIDS crisis in New York City: Reza, Judy, and Art. Reza is a recent immigrant to New York City, having left Iran with his mother to live with his new stepfather and stepbrother. He is gay, but his fear of AIDS cripples his ability to make friends and start a relationship. Judy aspires to be a fashion designer, and she absolutely adores spending time with her HIV-infected uncle Stephen (who is an activist and member of ACT UP) and trying to find romance. Art and Judy are best friends, but Art is having a hard time dealing with being openly gay, wanting to become an activist like Stephen, and constantly arguing with his conservative parents. When Judy and Reza start dating, her relationship with Art is put to the test.
Although the synopsis does appear grim, Abdi Nazemian (author of several novels for adults, and writer/producer on a number of films, including Call Me By Your Name) builds up a narrative that, amidst all the messiness and raw emotion, is quite charming and sometimes downright funny. As the story is told through rotating perspectives of the three protagonists, readers are introduced to (conflicting) ways that each character understands queerness, the AIDS crisis, and the possibilities of a future even when it seems queerness is a death sentence. Reza is closeted and has no idea how to tell those around him, even Art, because of his fear that even admitting to being gay would make him more vulnerable to infection. Art just wants to get out and protest, knowing too many people within his queer community who have died or are dying.
Each of the main characters exists in their own right. They are connected, but none of them exist as a simple foil for others. Judy notes: “Art is my tornado. He came into my life like a cyclone, and ever since, I have been in my own version of Oz.” Secondary characters are also complex and well-rounded; some parents are supportive, some are not, and there are relationships between teens and adults that are sometimes just chaotic.
The narrative also explores tensions around fear, as well as the complicated nature of blissful ignorance in the early years of the crisis. Nazemian’s strength is allowing his characters to experience messiness and complexity and still giving readers ways of connecting with character in different ways. Teen readers may have questions about some of the things characters do or say, or they may be confused about certain historical events, but Nazemian trusts his readers to search for answers outside of the text, keeping it from becoming “educational” or didactic. Through Art and Stephen, readers are introduced to the world of ACT UP in the 80s and 90s, their work and activism, clashes with the police, even differences of opinion within queer communities.
Like a Love Story is one of the best and most accessible YA books about the AIDS crisis (at least in my opinion), exploring body image, immigration, death, friendship, fear, history, activism, and politics of queerness in the Regan years. A story of love and loss in all of its messy, chaotic beauty, this is a book worth keeping on the shelves!
Rob Bittner has a PhD in Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies (Simon Fraser University), and is also a graduate of the MA in Children’s Literature program at The University of British Columbia in Vancouver, British Columbia. He loves reading a wide range of literature, but particularly stories with diverse depictions of gender and sexuality.