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Damon Suede

REVIEW:  Bad Idea by Damon Suede

REVIEW: Bad Idea by Damon Suede

badDear Mr. Suede:

This is my first DNF review here, and it’s going to be kind of an odd one, because in some ways, I thought this book was terrific… I  just got to a point where I realized there were still a hundred pages left and died a little inside. The thought of pressing the turn button one more time was so repellent, it seemed better to leave this as a “Not for me, maybe for you” DNF review than to force myself to finish and wind up giving it a D or an F from sheer hatred.

Bad Idea is a full immersion story — we’re plunged right into action, a large cast of characters, and several complicated lives. Comic book artist Trip is helping out “his bestest fruit flies” by being cameraman for a huge Zombies vs. Humans chase across Central Park. He finds himself cruising a hot zombie with meaty forearms and bright hazel eyes, who turns out to be a special effects make-up artist named Silas. After some issues finding each other again, the two begin a tentative relationship.

As a huge participant in gay and geek culture, Silas is kind of a challenge to Trip, who’s a little afraid of both his gay self and his geek self. Trip is also a challenge to Silas, who has a love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation, and is uncertain about how to be the kind of “gentleman” who can make a real relationship work. Being with Silas gets a creative spark going in Trip, who starts to create a new comic featuring a strangely familiar sex demon — but leaving his safe, uninspired niche in mainstream comics to come out with a “very graphic novel” is a terrifying step for him.

Bad Idea is filled with verve. I was bummed when I recently read a book set in several exciting places, which gave no sense of those places — not a problem here: we’re in New York, and we’re really in New York. And all kinds of creative energy is buzzing. I loved reading about Trip’s artistic process, which ties into a recurring theme — particularly pertinent coming in a romance novel — about quality in popular culture. It’s not expressed in terms an outsider to the culture would use, but in terms of what comes from the deepest parts of the artist; what’s phoney vs. what’s genuine. Trip hates the whitebread “Archie comic”-ish work he does for money:

He rolled his eyes and cashed the checks, secretly certain Swamp Thing and Deadpool were somehow more real.

Could one imaginary world be more imaginary that another? How do you measure reality?

As his friend Rita tells him, “You gotta stop thinking that what you love is some kinda race you can win.”

I also really enjoyed Silas, a beefy charmer who’s a rare romance hero that struggles with his weight. Trip nevously expects him to be very dominant, because of his size; in fact he much prefers a more submissive role, which works out well for them.

Trip, with his psychosomatic allergies, doormat relationship with his user boss, and general “twitchiness” about his sexuality, is less likable; I confess, I wondered what Silas saw in him and started to get pretty tired of his issues. That was only one of the problems I had with Bad Idea.

Have you ever read a nonfiction book with a section of genuine transcribed dialogue? I’m always fascinated by how incoherent they are. Two people will be having a conversation they both seemingly understand, but they often don’t complete their sentences or ideas, and they don’t even notice — body language, or shared knowledge, or pattern completion will fill in what’s missing. It’s nothing like the orderly language we expect from a book. Reading Bad Idea was like that for me. It didn’t help that the ARC I was reading was badly formatted, but I switched to a clean copy and still found myself feeling lost. At first the sheer energy of the writing made that okay, but as more and more of the book seemed to be about side characters having lengthy baffling conversations, my boredom started to grow. Every conversation seemed to go for pages longer than it needed to; even the sex scenes started to drag.

That, combined with my frustration with Trip, eventually brought me to the “I just can’t go on” point. I may be missing something wonderful, and I’ll probably make another attempt later. But for right now, just letting it go seems like a really good idea. DNF



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REVIEW: Hot Head by Damon Suede

REVIEW: Hot Head by Damon Suede

Dear Mr. Suede.

When Hot Head first came out, I heard good buzz about it, read the blurb, and refused to read anymore. I didn’t even read the excerpt because the blurb sounded so ridiculous:

Since 9/11, Brooklyn firefighter Griff Muir has wrestled with impossible feelings for his best friend and partner at Ladder 181, Dante Anastagio. Unfortunately, Dante is strictly a ladies’ man, and the FDNY isn’t exactly gay-friendly. For ten years, Griff has hidden his heart in a half-life of public heroics and private anguish.

Hot Head Damon SuedeGriff’s caution and Dante’s cockiness make them an unbeatable team. To protect his buddy, there’s nothing Griff wouldn’t do…until a nearly bankrupt Dante proposes the worst possible solution:, a gay porn website where uniformed hunks get down and dirty. And Dante wants them to appear there — together. Griff may have to guard his heart and live out his darkest fantasies on camera. Can he rescue the man he loves without wrecking their careers, their families, or their friendship?

Yes, let’s keep our secret…by doing online porn. Because we’ll never get found out that way, right? And FDNY Gay For You? Just…no. Too ridiculous for me.

But I kept hearing about how good it was from people I trusted, whose tastes match up with mine. And then Heidi Cullinan told me to get off my ass and read it. So I did. And OMG, it was so SO good.

While reading it, I kept flashing back to Evangeline Anderson’s The Assignment, in which two ostensibly straight, but really really close, police partners take an assignment to go undercover to a gay vacation resort owned by, I think, a mob boss (drug runner?). There, in order to maintain their cover, they’re forced into doing more and more sexual acts, almost all of them in front of others. Their sexual encounters, of course, just fuel the perspective character’s unrequited love for his partner. While The Assignment was much more utterly ridiculous (and WHY was it set in the early 1980s, I ask you?), Hot Head had a similar feel to it. Griff loves Dante but has no way or hope of ever telling Dante, so he suffers in unrequited silence with a mighty case of blueballs. Dante secretly loves Griff too and figures out a way to feel out whether Griff is interested by working for the website. He pushes them further and further in their sexual encounters in front of other people, finally breaking down the barriers of heteronormativity keeping them apart so that they can admit their love for each other.

The thing that really worked for me about Hot Head, though, is that Griff, from whose perspective the whole story is told, embraces not only his attraction for Dante, but quickly identifies as gay. He’s not gay for Dante. He’s gay and it’s his attraction to and love for Dante that allows him finally to realize it. He even thinks at one point:

Well, maybe that was the real solution. Maybe if Griff didn’t confess his feelings for his friend to his friend. Maybe he could just float the idea that he might like dudes, yes, like-like. But what if that changed things between them? What if Dante laughed and winked and offered to get him a discount on a HotHead membership? What if Dante felt weird around him after that?

He felt trapped.

Right. The thing to do was to try and get over Dante. He needed to find another guy and get used to the gay thing and move on. Fairytales were bullshit. Happy endings were for suckers. People didn’t love each other forever.

The boys find their way to each other through sex — they use it as an excuse to be able to touch each other, feel each other out both literally and metaphorically. But the absolutely hottest scene in the whole book was the first time Griff watched Dante’s jack-off scene at It was unbelievably sexy to watch one guy watching the object of his unrequited lust and love masturbate.

One niggle I had: do jack-off websites REALLY pay that much for their models, no matter what their models do?, for example, doesn’t pay nearly what apparently paid (NSFW link), and that’s much more hardcore than the mutual masturbation and blowjobs Griff and Dante did for (Why, yes, I know way too much about this, NOT because I’m interested in modeling — like they’d take me, ha! — but because I tend to click on every link at a website from OCD researcher compulsion.) Anyway…

I loved these characters. They’re so different from each other and fit together so well. I loved the writing. It’s very visual and very understated. I know from your bio that you’ve written for TV and film for years and whether knowing that affected my reading of the book, or whether I would have thought that anyway, I don’t know, but it did feel very cinemagraphic in places, very visually focused, allowing facial expressions to set a scene or answer a question, rather than having the characters actually come out and SAY what they needed to say. This cinemagraphic focus, however, was also occasionally a problem in that you used weird sounds a lot. When the characters are having sex, lines like “Ungh. Unghh. Mmmph. Fuck.” and “Ungh. Ungghh. Aww!” are just ridiculous, not sexy. Either have the characters babble in real language or describe the sounds, but this seemed silly to me.

Overall, though, I can’t WAIT for the sequel. I can’t wait to see the fallout of Griff and Dante coming out to the firehouse and to Griff’s father. I can’t wait for the story of secondary character Tommy. I loved the community Griff and Dante gathered around themselves at the end: family and friends, gay and straight. This is a deeply character-driven book with a silly premise that gets worked out brilliantly.

Grade: B+ and a Recommended Read

Best regards,

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