Monday, June 24, 2013

The Facialist by Mykola Dementiuk

Reviewer: David Sullivan
Publisher: Create Space (Aug. 2012)
Pages: 150

Bottom line: Very good book; I recommend it and intend to read it again!

It’s New York City in the 1950’s when Timmy discovers his own sexuality. But he’s aroused by men and women, which confuses him. Then Timmy meets Dickie, who likes to take young men under his wing and teach them the arts of fellatio, and Dickie's current young protégé, Shelly.

But Dickie is abusive, much like the men who have used Timmy for their own sexual release since he was a child. His attraction turns to Shelly, but who wants nothing to do with him.

Timmy is also seduced by an older Polish woman, an acquaintance of his mother’s. Confused by his own desires, Timmy returns to his favorite activity -- cruising the pathways of Tompkins Square Park.  (End of blurb)

The story opens in the resort Coney Island, New York. Since I grew up across the river in New Jersey I liked the book right away and was prepared to be disappointed as sometimes occurs with books. Didn’t happen here.

Mr. Dementiuk writes quite well, so well that in several parts of the book I realized I was sitting with tension in my chair, gripping the arm and/or holding my breath (Gosh, how often does that happen in a book?)

I’m bisexual and was confused from an early age. I thought it had to be I like men or women. This book offers no psychological solutions except to let readers know they are not alone. We all struggle; LGBT folks struggle more.

The book is easy to read and is a classic page-turner. It didn’t send me to the dictionary more than a few times unlike some books where authors seem to want to show off a vocabulary.

Who would benefit from reading this? Anyone of any age who is LGBT or anyone who desires some insight into the pain and suffering that comes from being alone with no one to talk to about one’s sexuality and what it’s like to be insulted and rejected merely because nature failed to make one ‘average’ (heterosexual.) My hat is off the author.

What I didn’t like: It ended. I could have gone for another hundred pages. My hat is off to the author, who I am not related to and don’t have any business relationships with. Damn, I ended a sentence with a preposition.

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