This book could have been passable, maybe even good, but this was the completely wrong narrator. This narrator should stick to detective novels at in 1950s noir. It was hard to tell who was speaking. And the 2 MC voices had a quality like they were speaking from the back of their throats while simultaneously opening their throats in anticipation of something thick being shoved down it. And not in a good way.
The story itself moved slower than Christmas on New Years day. I had 6.5 hours left and skipped ahead 4 hours, then after another agonizing minute skipped to the last chapter. Ten seconds later I tried the epilogue, but just couldn’t handle that either.
I think what was so maddening about it was it was too real. Back then it really was forced hiding, repression, scared to death of being found out. I want gay fiction, not gay realism from the mid 20th century.
I’m giving it 2 stars because I didn’t hate it, just severely disappointed.