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In The Pink
A Memoir Like No Other
It’s the go-go 90s, but you’d never know it by Nick, who’s washed out of another corporate job, just scraping by playing drums in a wedding band and delivering roses in a tuxedo. When he meets the beautiful, worldly Rachael and her entourage of A-List gay friends, Nick thinks he’s finally found who and what he’s been looking for. Nick and Rachael marry, start a successful business, and plunge headlong into the burgeoning gay circuit party scene. Known around the world as the straight couple that party hearty with the boys, Nick and Rachael are riding high. But as his formerly fabulous friends self-immolate and Rachael burrows into addiction, Nick realizes that to save himself, he’ll have to escape the woman, and the world, he most desired.
It’s the go-go 90s, but you’d never know it by Nick, who’s washed out of another corporate job, just scraping by playing drums in a wedding band and delivering roses in a tuxedo. When he meets the beautiful, worldly Rachael and her entourage of A-List gay friends, Nick thinks he’s finally found who and what he’s been looking for. Nick and Rachael marry, start a successful business, and plunge headlong into the burgeoning gay circuit party scene. Known around the world as the straight couple that party hearty with the boys, Nick and Rachael are riding high. But as his formerly fabulous friends self-immolate and Rachael burrows into addiction, Nick realizes that to save himself, he’ll have to escape the woman, and the world, he most desired.
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Published January 4, 2022
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December 18, 2021Source of book: NetGalley (thank you!)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.
So there’s a musical called The Last Five Years, which has an interesting premise (and, to be fair, some semi-decent songs): basically it’s a musical about a breakup, there are only two characters, the husband and the wife, and they take turns singing songs about the relationship. BUT the deal is they’re relating the relationship from opposite directions. At the start of the musical the wife is singing about end of the relationship and the husband the beginning. By the end, she has reached the beginning of the relationship and the husband has reached the end. Their timelines meet in the middle where they get married and they sing their only duet.
And this is all very interesting, structurally, musically, narratively. But you kind of also can’t get past the fact that it’s an essentially a barely fictionalised musical some guy wrote about how he was a super great talented guy who tried to help his whiny, insecure, less talented wife until she made him so sad he had an affair and then they got divorced.
Into The Pink is a book some guy wrote about how his wife was a controlling drug addict with daddy issues who made him go to a lot of gay parties until it made him so sad he cheated on her, physically threatened her and then they got divorced. I cannot even.
The backdrop to book is the circuit scene of the 90s—which I am actually fairly interested in because it’s, y’know, queer history and all that, and I was … um … about ten years old, watching adverts on the BBC about how we were all going to die of AIDS, which involved John Hurt narrating over a literal fucking tombstone. And I will say that Garnett’s writing does capture something vivid and visceral about the scene and the time that I appreciated. But I come back to the word “backdrop” because that’s all it ever is to him: queer lives, and indeed queer death, are the means by which this book pretends it’s about anything more than a straight bloke with marital problems.
By far the most interesting moment in the book, for me, was right at the end where one of the gay guys Garnett has met through his wife (and, for some unaccountable reason, is still friends with him) admits he was angry at Garnett’s participation in the party scene, because he got to enjoy the benefits of queer culture without paying any dues. And, obviously, the concept of dues is a complicated one as queerness cannot and should not be defined by suffering. But I can’t lie, it was a sentiment I myself had been wrestling with as I made my way through the book, so it was a relief to see it finally acknowledged by the text itself. I was then anticipating some kind of discussion of privilege, appropriation and intersectionality (because, actually, queer isn’t and shouldn’t be only for queers). But. Err no. Gay Friend just goes on to confirm that it was actually totes legit for straight guy to be part of this scene that wasn’t for him, and yet managed to make all about him, because he too is confused and lost. And this was, like, a coming out for something for him or something. Please.
I should also add that Garnett’s friends are either loyal to the point of unhelpfulness or terrible judges of character, because there’s a tonne of instances throughout the book of them justifying his actions for him: pointing out his marriage is bad except he’s GREAT, that he has so much potential and his wife his holding him back, and kind of reinforcing this narrative that his wife only acts so in control to cover the fact she’s secretly “a scared little girl” inside. Something we’re apparently supposed to condemn instead of … maybe. Think about? Empathise with? Strive to understand? Garnett spends a lot of time dwelling on his own damage, like the fact he was brought up by Strong TM women, which somehow rendered him incapable of making life decisions for himself, or that he’s deeply emotionally guarded (despite the fact his wife literally begs him to talk to her on several occasions). But Rachael’s interior anxieties, the fact they drive her to substance abuse, are always treated as faintly contemptible. Because while Garnett is a man struggling to find himself in a complex world, she’s just a scared little girl, d’you see?
This even plays into Garnett and Rachael’s final, mostly amicable meeting after the divorce, when Garnett is all like sorry I got all physically threatening with you there, that was a bit over the line wasn’t it. And Rachael—with a degree of frankly heroic emotional generosity—replies “Yeah, well, we were pushing each other pretty hard, weren’t we? For a long time.” After which Garnett writes: “that was as close to either forgiveness or an apology as I was ever going to get.” Sorry … what’s that dude? You want your ex-wife to apologise to you because you physically threatened her? How much meth did you take in the 90s?
Throughout this book, Garnett is at pains to remind us that he’s straight, super straight, definitely straight, never had a moment’s doubt. But, frankly, I was never in doubt. Because writing an entire book about how your ex-wife is actually a terrible person who got in the way of your personal growth with her successful business and tragic substance abuse issues, oh ps and some gays were there, is just about the straightest thing I’ve ever read.
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.
So there’s a musical called The Last Five Years, which has an interesting premise (and, to be fair, some semi-decent songs): basically it’s a musical about a breakup, there are only two characters, the husband and the wife, and they take turns singing songs about the relationship. BUT the deal is they’re relating the relationship from opposite directions. At the start of the musical the wife is singing about end of the relationship and the husband the beginning. By the end, she has reached the beginning of the relationship and the husband has reached the end. Their timelines meet in the middle where they get married and they sing their only duet.
And this is all very interesting, structurally, musically, narratively. But you kind of also can’t get past the fact that it’s an essentially a barely fictionalised musical some guy wrote about how he was a super great talented guy who tried to help his whiny, insecure, less talented wife until she made him so sad he had an affair and then they got divorced.
Into The Pink is a book some guy wrote about how his wife was a controlling drug addict with daddy issues who made him go to a lot of gay parties until it made him so sad he cheated on her, physically threatened her and then they got divorced. I cannot even.
The backdrop to book is the circuit scene of the 90s—which I am actually fairly interested in because it’s, y’know, queer history and all that, and I was … um … about ten years old, watching adverts on the BBC about how we were all going to die of AIDS, which involved John Hurt narrating over a literal fucking tombstone. And I will say that Garnett’s writing does capture something vivid and visceral about the scene and the time that I appreciated. But I come back to the word “backdrop” because that’s all it ever is to him: queer lives, and indeed queer death, are the means by which this book pretends it’s about anything more than a straight bloke with marital problems.
By far the most interesting moment in the book, for me, was right at the end where one of the gay guys Garnett has met through his wife (and, for some unaccountable reason, is still friends with him) admits he was angry at Garnett’s participation in the party scene, because he got to enjoy the benefits of queer culture without paying any dues. And, obviously, the concept of dues is a complicated one as queerness cannot and should not be defined by suffering. But I can’t lie, it was a sentiment I myself had been wrestling with as I made my way through the book, so it was a relief to see it finally acknowledged by the text itself. I was then anticipating some kind of discussion of privilege, appropriation and intersectionality (because, actually, queer isn’t and shouldn’t be only for queers). But. Err no. Gay Friend just goes on to confirm that it was actually totes legit for straight guy to be part of this scene that wasn’t for him, and yet managed to make all about him, because he too is confused and lost. And this was, like, a coming out for something for him or something. Please.
I should also add that Garnett’s friends are either loyal to the point of unhelpfulness or terrible judges of character, because there’s a tonne of instances throughout the book of them justifying his actions for him: pointing out his marriage is bad except he’s GREAT, that he has so much potential and his wife his holding him back, and kind of reinforcing this narrative that his wife only acts so in control to cover the fact she’s secretly “a scared little girl” inside. Something we’re apparently supposed to condemn instead of … maybe. Think about? Empathise with? Strive to understand? Garnett spends a lot of time dwelling on his own damage, like the fact he was brought up by Strong TM women, which somehow rendered him incapable of making life decisions for himself, or that he’s deeply emotionally guarded (despite the fact his wife literally begs him to talk to her on several occasions). But Rachael’s interior anxieties, the fact they drive her to substance abuse, are always treated as faintly contemptible. Because while Garnett is a man struggling to find himself in a complex world, she’s just a scared little girl, d’you see?
This even plays into Garnett and Rachael’s final, mostly amicable meeting after the divorce, when Garnett is all like sorry I got all physically threatening with you there, that was a bit over the line wasn’t it. And Rachael—with a degree of frankly heroic emotional generosity—replies “Yeah, well, we were pushing each other pretty hard, weren’t we? For a long time.” After which Garnett writes: “that was as close to either forgiveness or an apology as I was ever going to get.” Sorry … what’s that dude? You want your ex-wife to apologise to you because you physically threatened her? How much meth did you take in the 90s?
Throughout this book, Garnett is at pains to remind us that he’s straight, super straight, definitely straight, never had a moment’s doubt. But, frankly, I was never in doubt. Because writing an entire book about how your ex-wife is actually a terrible person who got in the way of your personal growth with her successful business and tragic substance abuse issues, oh ps and some gays were there, is just about the straightest thing I’ve ever read.
December 18, 2021
Disclosure : I received a free copy of this book through Netgalley at the courtesy of the publisher. What follows is my honest opinion.
The ultimate insider's view from an outsider's perspective, In The Pink, is the tale of Nicholas and Rebecca a straight married couple who had immersed themselves into the world of the gay men's circuit scene. Set in the heyday of 90s clubland Nick's electric writing transports the reader to what was the climax of gay party life at the turn of the millennium. He, a straight man, had found himself thanks to his wife, smack in the middle of the high energy and the highly sexualized world of gay circuit parties. Circuits, rave-like events geared towards affluent gay men with disposable income and access to the best party drugs had become their home. This oddity of a straight couple had become the toast of the town, a world-known duo who could be found everywhere from The beaches of Miami to the exclusive enclave of Fire Island. A raucous ride of sex, drugs, and house beats Nick's account of the power couple's rise and ultimate fall from the upper echelons of circuit life is an infectious read that just cannot be put down. Ultimately, the book is an exploration of Nick finding his voice and where he belongs by first finding out where despite his best efforts where he doesn't fit.
The ultimate insider's view from an outsider's perspective, In The Pink, is the tale of Nicholas and Rebecca a straight married couple who had immersed themselves into the world of the gay men's circuit scene. Set in the heyday of 90s clubland Nick's electric writing transports the reader to what was the climax of gay party life at the turn of the millennium. He, a straight man, had found himself thanks to his wife, smack in the middle of the high energy and the highly sexualized world of gay circuit parties. Circuits, rave-like events geared towards affluent gay men with disposable income and access to the best party drugs had become their home. This oddity of a straight couple had become the toast of the town, a world-known duo who could be found everywhere from The beaches of Miami to the exclusive enclave of Fire Island. A raucous ride of sex, drugs, and house beats Nick's account of the power couple's rise and ultimate fall from the upper echelons of circuit life is an infectious read that just cannot be put down. Ultimately, the book is an exploration of Nick finding his voice and where he belongs by first finding out where despite his best efforts where he doesn't fit.
November 16, 2021
As a girl, there's been a more than a few times in my life that I have been curious, "what is he thinking?" If you ever wanted to know the answer, this author sheds some light on that question. And it's shocking. I deeply enjoyed the journey into a fabulous life that is so far removed from where I have been and where I am going. I felt like a part of his world. This is a deeply insightful look into the pretty party world of the emerging gay scene of the 1990's. The author is a talented writer, and his story will pull you into the brilliant depths.
May 8, 2022
WOW. Nicholas Garnett has crafted a memoir that authentically details his life before, during and after being "inducted" into the world of gay circuit parties. He was (still is) a straight married man living and swimming in a sea of drink, drugs, friendships and trials. All the while showcasing a life with little to no self-flagellation. It's a dark, fun, scary and most of all direct look at his past and how he lived it and survived it.
This is a must read for anyone interested in peeking at living on the wild side and living to tell about it. Bravo!
This is a must read for anyone interested in peeking at living on the wild side and living to tell about it. Bravo!
November 27, 2021
What a journey! Once I began reading, I couldn't put it down until I finished. The author doesn't pull any punches in describing the '90s gay party scene, the prevalence of cocaine, meth, ecstasy, and other club drugs, and how the combination could sink relationships and careers. The characters are complex and entertaining--I could easily see this adapted for a mini-series or a movie. I was completely engaged, from the first page to the very end. Great read!
January 9, 2022
A breathtaking dive into a world I'd never thought of exploring in literature, In the Pink paints a vivid and emotional picture of the circuit party scene of the 90s. Nicholas Garnett's brilliant characterization, rich detailing, and masterful understanding of the reader's mind progressively hooks the reader in, pulling them along for the impactful story embedded within. A must read!
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews