Short Stories 366:160 — “Andrew Barbee,” by Dan López
[image error]As I mentioned yesterday, I can be a hoarder of anthologies and collections, and I have a terrible habit of reading a story or two from each before another shiny anthology or collection comes along, and, well… shiny. I believe I bought this anthology, With: New Gay Fiction, when it first came out, after reading an article or an interview with Dan López. “Andrew Barbee” is—like many of López’s works—centred around sailing (the title is the name of the boat), and in this case also pivots on the triangle formed by three people: a man, his former lover (who is older than him), and his current boyfriend (who is younger), while they’re on a celebratory birthday sail for the former lover’s birthday, and attempting shark fishing.
I think what I love the most about López is his ability to take the world of sailing and highlight so much of a living world of queer men alongside what could easily be, on the surface, a simple narrative of a man who’s been with this other man and the man he’s now with. Instead, there are these lovely traces: the main character loses his balance (he’s lost his sea legs, which he admits he never really had) and has to lean on his ex to remain upright at one point, and the moment is so wonderfully sly I found myself grinning to myself. The ex talks about how every boat sinks eventually. The relationships at play, one gone and definitely unsound, one new yet still unsteady, is a perfect parallel.
More, I have to cheer López’s ending lines here. To say they’re a short, sharp shock wouldn’t do it credit, and I actively inhaled a burst of surprise. I should be clear: it’s not a narrative shock, but rather the word play and the moment the story ends on all coming together with that earlier intertwining of both boating and the lives of these queer men. It’s really clever, and I freaking loved it, and the immediateness of the ending snaps shut in an instant. You’ve seen everything López is going to show you, and it’s exactly enough.
