“I’m so close to falling apart. Fuck it. Who isn’t?”
I love Thomas Moore. I can’t even recall how I stumbled upon his work, only that I’m grateful that I did. In a world full of commodified and sanitized mainstream queer authors, it’s a breath of fresh air to read from an author that focuses on the transgressive human experience that happens to be from a queer voice. I know the term “transgressive” has become controversial, and a lot of authors hate it, but I use it because it has helped me find these amazing works of fiction by authors and voices that I’m so interested in hearing from. Thomas Moore reminds me of Dennis Cooper, but softer and sweeter. When I say softer and sweeter, that probably doesn’t paint a full picture of his narrative voice. I’m not trying to be condescending. I don’t say this to mean he doesn’t have bite. He does. It’s just that there’s a sad heart to his stories that permeates his work despite the dark and bleak narrative. Your Dreams follows our protagonist to New York as he prepares himself to speak with one of his oldest friends, who’s inner darkness has revealed itself, and the two find themselves at the most honest and raw conversation two people could ever had. The rest of the novel explores the theme of intimacy in a world with limits, reflects on the complexities of human connection and the need for understanding, particularly in the context of desire and the blurring lines between fantasy and reality. I loved what the protagonist had to say about their experience as a queer man, and how they felt divorced from “the community” and people in general. I loved how the author writes about the complexities of having a “body” and how our relationship with our own body and the bodies of others can shape and change us and the way we move through the world. I loved the dreamy aspect of exploring peoples’ fantasies and desires, and navigating understanding each other’s. There’s a chapter that featured internet posts by people looking for sexual and depraved art, and I loved how that part reminded me of Amygdalatropolis, one of my favourite books. I loved the exploration on how all any of us want is someone to love us in all our darkest parts. The ending peels back the narrative and offers a more direct look at Thomas Moore’s raw and honest feelings, and I absolutely loved it. He takes a shot at the literary landscape on social media and admits to pouring very true parts of himself into his work, while also admitting that he keeps the real dark stuff hidden away from even the people he knows in real life. I’m one of the “egotistical” social media users he takes a shot at, and I loved this ending and his work. I hope that his upcoming works aren’t afraid to be “ugly”, raw and real. I want him to lash out. I want him to hurt me. I want him to write from a darker place, exorcize his experiences and use fiction as a vehicle to navigate some dark and depraved stuff. I hope he knows that he’s gained a readership who will follow him through it. Or at least, I know that I will. I loved how dark and fucked up this book was, the ideas it explored and the ideas it was hinting at. Though I do wish it focused more on the narrator and John’s relationship. I wanted to be inside John’s head, read a book from his perspective. John’s conversation with the narrator was so impactful and will always stick with me. There was a dark honesty there that most humans can’t reckon with. I resonated with so much that was said here. I can’t specify what. But a lot of it was towards the end. This book may have a dark heart or was made with dark intentions but it was raw and real and it spoke to me in a way that made me feel less alone. Sometimes you need someone just as messed up as you are to show you are not alone. I hope Thomas Moore knows that he’s reaching people. Like-minded people who feel the same way. Who have survived the same things, who have been hurt and been the person who has done the hurting. I hope he feels less alone. I know I do.
“I love you. Please, no matter what - never give up on me.”