“⎯the great Canadian gay novel.”
George K. Ilsley, Plenitude Magazine
“Strip reads like a boy version of Zoe Whittall’s queer classic Bottle Rocket Hearts.”
Shawn Syms, Quill & Quire
“Strip delivers a detailed portrait of the physical and emotional perils facing a performing artist.”
Michelle LeDonne, The Bull Calf Review
“Readers…should prepare themselves for one of the most wrenching, devastating and deeply affecting endings they’ll find in any work of contemporary fiction.”
Mark Sampson, Free Range Reading
Or from Nightwood Editions Here
A dancer’s fingertips––etched with a language that is no longer decipherable––tickle space, trace its volume, press, pull, contract, constrict, until they touch, grasp, hold and balance, shift what is on and off balance. They retreat, release, flick, dab. At careless times they graze. Graze nipples. Trace filaments across the skin. They touch the sternum and search for the heart.
A slammed door echoes up this stairwell from the floors below. Am I naked underneath this bed sheet? Is there bleeding? Blood. Reassuring. It means I still have a heart. They say it’s in our blood, this new disease. So far, over one thousand have died because of it. And my balls ache. My lip throbs. I taste the warm blood and my saliva mixed with something salty. There must be tears; I can barely see. There must be tears. If I had something in my stomach I would vomit. I remember Kent said our New Year’s resolution was to make 1983 our year. “Here’s to you and me in ’83,” he said. Helluva year it’s turning out to be.
Everyone has a Daniel, and, with luck, you’ll have him early on, to break your heart to pieces and then get over it. Never make the same stupid Goddamned mistake again. Funny how you can talk yourself into thinking the road less travelled will be a noble trip. I tripped on the road less travelled.
Listen to an excerpt from Strip.
Buy Strip from Nightwood Editions Here
5.5 x 8.5 – 256 pages Paperback –
$21.95 October 2013
John Rottam is on a journey back in time and place. Fleeing a private stripping engagement turned violent, he reflects on a time in his life when he was burdened with a broken heart, self-doubt and a floundering dance career. A few clumsy steps in the corps de ballet of a prestigious Canadian ballet company sends John fleeing to join a psychotic and incompetent dance troupe in Quebec City, run by the bitter Madame Talegdi, who all but destroys his dream of a legitimate career.
Stifled by the walls of Old Quebec, limited French, and dwindling finances, John seeks out the feathers and sequins of the Chez Moritz nightclub, for a last shot at doing a little of what he loves, on the condition that he strips as well as dances. John’s fall from grace eventually lands him in a road house freak show, where he struggles to find love and a meaningful life amidst alcohol, deception, abuse and exploitation. When the show folds, John is forced to move on, confront his uncertain future and come to terms with his disturbing past.
His final strip-tease becomes a haunting dance of desire, revulsion, insight and, ultimately, redemption. Strip is the unsettling, yet deeply inspiring, second novel from Andrew Binks.
Chris Dupuis’s interview here for the Daily Extra
Andrew Binks 