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Fever Vision
From his birth in rural Kentucky during the Great Depression to his suicide in Manhattan in 1985, Coleman Dowell played many roles. He was a songwriter and lyricist for television. He was a model. He was a Broadway playwright. He served in the U.S. Army, both abroad and at home. And most notably, he was the author of novels that Edmund White, among others, has called "masterpieces." But Dowell was deeply troubled by a depression that hung over him his entire life. Pegged as both a Southern writer and a gay writer, he loathed such categorization, preferring to be judged only by his work. Fever Vision describes one of the most tormented, talented, and inventive writers of recent American literature, and shows how his eventful life contributed to the making of his incredible art.
234 pages, Unknown Binding
First published June 1, 2007
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June 12, 2023
Coleman Dowell addicts (1925-85) should read his riveting unfinished memoir, "A Star-Bright Lie," published a few years after his suicide by his solid partner of 30 years, psychiatrist Bertram Slaff, which chronicles Dowell's own paranoia and lush invention of his early years in NYC. Biographer Hayworth's "Fever Vision," has understanding and love, and his writing is most dedicated. Hayworth provides useful character and critical analyses to the 5 novels and many short stories Dowell wrote after his catastrophic failure in the theatre, which left him undone for some years: out of shame, Dowell even ended a close relationship with Carl Van Vechten and his wife Fania Marinoff.
Born very poor in Kentucky, Dowell moved to NYC in 1950 after a stint in the army. He had a genuine musical talent and found a composing slot on an early TV variety show where the unknowns included Bea Arthur and Elaine Stritch. He hungered for stardom and showbiz glam, was not shy about using social-sexual connections to step lively on the scene. Excitedly he wrote his parents, "When you're trying to get ahead in the theatre every moment you're awake must be spent in figuring out new methods of getting ahead." Slaff, meeting him in 1954, invested heavily in the Dowell musical that ended his friendship w CVV. Though they always remained together with Slaff as a steadfast beau whose income kept Dowell alive, they both openly had many other lovers - Dowell often choosing random strangers never to be seen again. Theirs was a pairing only possible among gays or European hets; this is unknown among American hets. I am reminded that artist Louise Nevelson once said, "If you want to lead a creative life, you better be rich or have a rich husband or lover." Author Hayworth mentions in passing that the Harvard-educated Slaff had two clubbed feet (which, admittedly, startled me).
Having a powerful private dream world and restless imagination, Dowell turned to fiction - and it seems he was a born writer. It's hard to know where his fantasy and real life separated, says the author. Ignored mostly by mainstream editors, Dowell found a welcome place among small circulation literary magazines and avant-garde publishers. NOTE: his largest advance on a novel was $500, which seemed like the heavens had opened. Most non-names were then getting $5-7k.
The list of prestige editors, magazines, publishers who fired off rejections was endless. Dowell suffered torment and constant despair, but before his death he received some rave reviews in the NYT and elsewhere for "Island People" and"White on Black on White."
Sales, at the time, remained small. Incest and homosexuality, even when oblique, frightened readers, especially since his characters can only find salvation through human contact. Madness, creativity, desire -- actually dominate the sexual taboos. His work, stresses the author, "examines the power one person holds over another and reveals the multiple manners of human deception." His literary supporters came to include Walter Abish, Gilbert Sorrentino, Thom Gunn, Edmund White, among others. Today his novels, showing an international appeal, are translated into Spanish and French. Some critics call his style The New Gothic, an homage to Poe, Melville, Hawthorne.
The psychological horror Dowell sustains is very contemporary and often as intense as his tragic biography. The author wisely points out that best-sellers are "made" by agents and publishers through snaffling reviews, interviews, and obvious marketing: placement in bookstores and bookstore windows. Dowell's faithful partner Bertram Slaff, who kept Dowell's name alive, died in 2013, age 91.
Born very poor in Kentucky, Dowell moved to NYC in 1950 after a stint in the army. He had a genuine musical talent and found a composing slot on an early TV variety show where the unknowns included Bea Arthur and Elaine Stritch. He hungered for stardom and showbiz glam, was not shy about using social-sexual connections to step lively on the scene. Excitedly he wrote his parents, "When you're trying to get ahead in the theatre every moment you're awake must be spent in figuring out new methods of getting ahead." Slaff, meeting him in 1954, invested heavily in the Dowell musical that ended his friendship w CVV. Though they always remained together with Slaff as a steadfast beau whose income kept Dowell alive, they both openly had many other lovers - Dowell often choosing random strangers never to be seen again. Theirs was a pairing only possible among gays or European hets; this is unknown among American hets. I am reminded that artist Louise Nevelson once said, "If you want to lead a creative life, you better be rich or have a rich husband or lover." Author Hayworth mentions in passing that the Harvard-educated Slaff had two clubbed feet (which, admittedly, startled me).
Having a powerful private dream world and restless imagination, Dowell turned to fiction - and it seems he was a born writer. It's hard to know where his fantasy and real life separated, says the author. Ignored mostly by mainstream editors, Dowell found a welcome place among small circulation literary magazines and avant-garde publishers. NOTE: his largest advance on a novel was $500, which seemed like the heavens had opened. Most non-names were then getting $5-7k.
The list of prestige editors, magazines, publishers who fired off rejections was endless. Dowell suffered torment and constant despair, but before his death he received some rave reviews in the NYT and elsewhere for "Island People" and"White on Black on White."
Sales, at the time, remained small. Incest and homosexuality, even when oblique, frightened readers, especially since his characters can only find salvation through human contact. Madness, creativity, desire -- actually dominate the sexual taboos. His work, stresses the author, "examines the power one person holds over another and reveals the multiple manners of human deception." His literary supporters came to include Walter Abish, Gilbert Sorrentino, Thom Gunn, Edmund White, among others. Today his novels, showing an international appeal, are translated into Spanish and French. Some critics call his style The New Gothic, an homage to Poe, Melville, Hawthorne.
The psychological horror Dowell sustains is very contemporary and often as intense as his tragic biography. The author wisely points out that best-sellers are "made" by agents and publishers through snaffling reviews, interviews, and obvious marketing: placement in bookstores and bookstore windows. Dowell's faithful partner Bertram Slaff, who kept Dowell's name alive, died in 2013, age 91.
Displaying 1 of 1 review