Auden flees the small town of Capreol for Toronto, bewildered, HIV positive, and in search of an entirely new personality. He falls in love with orgy maestro Wrik, mainly because the old Auden would never even have talked to him. And through Wrik, he meets Steve Reinke, his new best friend.
Steve – and here’s where it gets confusing – is, in real life as well as in The Steve Machine, a renowned video artist, someone who makes television for one person at a time, small-screen excursions designed to cure arthritis or night blindness.
Despite being a virtuoso with video, however, Steve is not so good with love. He falls for a football star, and, with his medium-is-the-message videotapes, is able to slow down the other players so his beau can run past them all at normal speed. Though the team wins, Steve does not, and the jock dumps him.
Then there’s the chess whiz, followed soon after by hustlers and tattoo artists, and and then Jody, who’s got a mouth so big and red that Steve is overcome with lust. Truth is, it’s a mouth used to settling scores, only Steve doesn’t catch this. Blinded by passion, our fictional Steve contracts HIV, then sets to work building a videotape that will relieve him, and the millions of others afflicted, of their illness. On the way, he stars in a reality TV show, decides to wear only white paper suits, and meets childhood idol Yoko Ono.
Auden accompanies Steve in this quest that is at once a plague narrative, a love story, a reflection on media technology, and a joy to read. As an added bonus, this volume has been written both as a regular hold-in-your-hand novel with a beginning, middle, and end (though not necessarily in that order), and as a machine designed to replace the voice of the inner monologue with something (or someone) far more soothing and satisfying. Like the videotapes of Steve Reinke, the book itself is a machine. The Steve Machine.
If this book was real life and I had met Hoolboom's version of Steve Reinke, I would think he was a cult leader wannabe, a whack job with questionable motives and sanity. But in Hoolboom's world, the one where "The Steve Machine" has the power to "cure" disease and alter the core of someone's personality, I mildly enjoyed this book's improbable insight. (Very mixed thoughts, I know, but such is how I feel about this book.) I personally think this book is a demonstration of the placebo affect (a line in the book may imply this is indeed what it is), but I'm willing to accept that I could be dead wrong about this. I feel the book is more about the relationship between the sick and the healthy, and what kind of relationship can form out of this circumstance.
Setting all rationality and my personal opinions about the characters' motives, I did enjoy the writing. I found myself wanting to enthusiastically nod my head at certain parts where I felt the author hit the nail on the head, so to speak. However, at the same time, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want the book to end.
Steve Reinke was my professor for two years at Northwestern University and I'd feel comfortable calling him my friend. That's why I read this book. I even had Steve sign it. Oh yeah, the book, well, I actually didn't like it. I thought Hoolboom was a little too into his writing and forgot about his readers. It actually got less interesting as it went on. Though, there were some nice descriptions and Steve has a bunch of great one liners. Gay Fiction. Aids. Video Art. Short. Death. Canada.
Got this for my birthday, much anticipated cause I love Mike's work. It got me excited about video art again. He's got a great voice, sharp wit and it's a great Toronto story.
hoolboom's interest in second lives manifests in semi-autobiographical story of transformative power of illness and intimacy and creativity. new subjectivity realized through (hiv-)positivity.