Gay writer and educator Jeff Mann is nothing if not prolific. With the publication of his new novel Country (Lethe) and two forthcoming 2017 titles, Mann has written 17 books and contributed to more than 100 anthologies. Country is a fictional examination of what happens to the life and career of country music superstar Brice Brown when he is outed as gay. Brice comes up against outspoken and violent opponents, unexpected supporters, unscrupulous journalists, hateful religious fanatics, and ultimately, a young gay man named Lucas, whose own traumatic life experiences put Brice's into perspective. I spoke with Mann about the novel this fall.
Gregg Shapiro: Considering the way journalists are portrayed in Country, I'd like to begin by thanking you for agreeing to do this interview.
Jeff Mann: Thank you for conducting this interview! I appreciate anyone who helps publicize my writing. I've only had positive experiences with journalists, but I'm pretty sure the pushy, nasty, sensationalist reporters that my protagonist encounters in Country are realistically portrayed. Luckily, none of the books I've published have led such aggressive folks my way. The closest I've gotten to such meanness has been hate mail from homophobes.
Country is set in 1997. Is that intended to be a means of measurement for how much, or how little, things have changed for a queer musician in Nashville?
I set Country that far back in time in order to increase the conflict and tension. These days, it appears that Nashville is a little more accepting of LGBT folks than it has been, so I chose a time when my protagonist would have an enormous, hostile backlash to deal with when he's outed. Plus I wanted to write a little tie-in to my novel Cub, 1997-98 allowed me to do that.
After Brice is outed in Nashville, he heads home to Hinton, West Virginia, which also happens to be where you are from. Is it important to include your home turf in your work?
I'd depicted Hinton in Cub, though more of it appears in Country . Most people have a conflicted love/hate relationship with the place they call home, and I'm no exception. When in high school, I realized that I was gay, I hated and feared the place, just as conservative, fundamentalist, and homophobic as you might imagine. A coterie of lesbian friends helped me keep my sanity til my escape to college. As a student at West Virginia University, I began to miss my family and appreciate Hinton, enjoying rare weekends home. When I moved to Washington, DC in 1985, in search of A Big Fat Queer Life in the city (something most rural queers dream of), not only did I not find that life of erotic popularity, but I realized how much I missed Appalachia and the South, how much I detested the crowds, rush, and noise of cities. I realized how much of me had been shaped by my native region. So I moved back to West Virginia, determined to learn how to balance my sexual and regional identities. It took me a while to do that, but I have.
My husband John and I bought the house I grew up in, the same house where Brice takes refuge in Country. I've made my peace with Hinton, though I don't think anyone there knows or cares about my publications, which irks my considerable ego. Hinton is beautifully situated among mountains along the New River, and its economy is slowly improving. I still have family and friends there, and enjoy visiting them. John and I have what I call Big Queer Convocations, with colorful guests like Miss Ilene Over, my favorite drag queen, and lesbian political theorist Cynthia Burack. Much booze is consumed, and I make big meals. So I might not have found a Big Fat Queer Life in DC, but I've created one here in Appalachia.
How much of Jeff is in Brice?
Brice is very much like me, at one stage or the other in my emotional evolution. I came to terms with my gay identity far earlier than he did and with much less conflict, but the rest of him, his hot temper, foul mouth, sex drive, redneck defiance, physical build, narcissism, depression, hard drinking, protectiveness, creativity, loyalty, and enthusiasm for good food, that's all me.
How important is it for you to maintain a level of erotic content in your work?
It is very important. There's nothing like publishing fiction with frank erotic elements to be reminded how much the elitist and erotophobic American literary mainstream dismisses such writing. Academia �" the world in which I'm employed, I'm an associate professor at Virginia Tech, yet another world in which I don't really belong �" scorns such publications as "mere genre writing," as it does historical fiction and romance.
I'm a creature of deep passions and strong appetites, even at age 57, and I've always been fascinated by the erotic, in particular the power dynamics of BDSM. Including honest, detailed sex scenes in my writing is a political act as far as I'm concerned, another expression of Appalachian orneriness, "redneck defiance."
If there were a movie version of Country , who would make a good Brice?
Well, I had country singer Lee Brice in mind physically, but to name an actor, maybe Gerard Butler or Russell Crowe? Just because I think they're both hot as hell. They'd have to work up an Appalachian accent, though!
Who would make a good Lucas?
Country singer Brantley Gilbert was the man I had in mind when I envisioned that character, but to play him on the screen, some fuzzy, lean guy, how about Colin Farrell or Jake Gyllenhaal? Again, just because I think they're top-notch hot. A sex scene between any two of those four would be a dream come true. Butler topping Farrell, or Crowe topping Gyllenhall, oh yes! Thank you for questions that have provided me with such salacious couplings, if only in my mind.
Who would Brice vote for in the upcoming election?
Oh Lord, he'd vote for Hillary Clinton. Like me, he admires and respects strong women with liberal views, and like me, he recognizes a dangerous, queer-hating fascist when he sees one. No way Brice would ever vote for a fulvous baboon like Donald Trump.