An honest and frank exploration of queerness set against a backdrop of the 90s party scene. Will at times break your heart, at others will mend it. Garnett takes you along the journey with him every step of the way.

Finally, a story that speaks of drugs w/ authority/tangible descriptions. X and ketamine are the first on the docket for the bday boy clubbing w/ his hot wife. There’re drag queens casually telling fortunes and misanthrope Greek grandmothers (interesting to a point but doubt we need the info dump). This section would be better written in novel format like the first chapter rather than chunky backstory more befitting celebrities. Weaved in showings vs a scholastic bio report. But after that lil dip, the pace is perfect for almost the whole book.

Good candid writing about racist family, drag culture, and binging. Yet most of the dialogue isn’t believable, everyone makes these set-ups for quips or inspirational lines like only happens in movies. Especially Rachel, who comes off unlikable before we even find out she’s married and mercilessly flirting w/ the MC. A real Miami f@g hag, she’s posh and abrasive. Bringing him around her disapproving friends, she inadvertently has him question his sexuality, though he’s still rather straight. The scenery writing is beautiful: pastel hotels, speedoed body-builders, clubbing at AIDS fundraisers. Trailer park theme drag shows, crystal meth back when it was more casual and seemingly cleaner. After some time, Rachel introduces the MC & her husband by taking them to a S&M dungeon w/ stage shows!

“It’s not all disco balls and fetish halls.” They open a little pet hotel and rejuvenate an old, fancy home. Sparks of doubled infidelity in ghb-fueled foursomes. A couple taking the spotlight as hot hetero exhibitionists. Working as a photo-op Santa. Sobering up amid seizures and the threat of splitting up relationships and businesses. The MC and Rachel are never too unlikable to not want to read. Who you root for can change page by page and it’s a good thing. It’s just as complex as real life should be. From the cover and sex preference pondering, I expected this book to be about Nick becoming a drag Queen but he never does and never tries to be. There are barely any drag queens, just regular gay queens. Yet I face little disappointment (aside wanting a slight recall on what the drag fortune teller said to him in ch 1), so that’s an accomplishment in itself.

HELL YEAH! What a wild, wonderful, and sometimes eerily familiar romp through the glory and the gritty guts of party-land. This was a fabulous read — at times hilarious, tender, turbulent, vulnerable, and always entertaining. Bonus: reading about it doesn’t even cost any relationships or brain cells! Highly recommended.

Despite being gay, I've never really been a big part of the gay party scene, so I was fascinated to read this outsider's view of it. And while much of it was interesting, I did want him to delve a little more into some of the emotions, or as other reviewers have suggested, the privilege. And yet, this book was entertaining, informative, and a mostly enjoyable read. Thanks to NetGalley for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Disclosure : I received a free copy of this book through Netgalley at the courtesy of the publisher. What follows is my honest opinion.

The ultimate insider's view from an outsider's perspective, In The Pink, is the tale of Nicholas and Rebecca a straight married couple who had immersed themselves into the world of the gay men's circuit scene. Set in the heyday of 90s clubland Nick's electric writing transports the reader to what was the climax of gay party life at the turn of the millennium. He, a straight man, had found himself thanks to his wife, smack in the middle of the high energy and the highly sexualized world of gay circuit parties. Circuits, rave-like events geared towards affluent gay men with disposable income and access to the best party drugs had become their home. This oddity of a straight couple had become the toast of the town, a world-known duo who could be found everywhere from The beaches of Miami to the exclusive enclave of Fire Island. A raucous ride of sex, drugs, and house beats Nick's account of the power couple's rise and ultimate fall from the upper echelons of circuit life is an infectious read that just cannot be put down. Ultimately, the book is an exploration of Nick finding his voice and where he belongs by first finding out where despite his best efforts where he doesn't fit.

Source of book: NetGalley (thank you!)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.

So there’s a musical called The Last Five Years, which has an interesting premise (and, to be fair, some semi-decent songs): basically it’s a musical about a breakup, there are only two characters, the husband and the wife, and they take turns singing songs about the relationship. BUT the deal is they’re relating the relationship from opposite directions. At the start of the musical the wife is singing about end of the relationship and the husband the beginning. By the end, she has reached the beginning of the relationship and the husband has reached the end. Their timelines meet in the middle where they get married and they sing their only duet.

And this is all very interesting, structurally, musically, narratively. But you kind of also can’t get past the fact that it’s an essentially a barely fictionalised musical some guy wrote about how he was a super great talented guy who tried to help his whiny, insecure, less talented wife until she made him so sad he had an affair and then they got divorced.

Into The Pink is a book some guy wrote about how his wife was a controlling drug addict with daddy issues who made him go to a lot of gay parties until it made him so sad he cheated on her, physically threatened her and then they got divorced. I cannot even.

The backdrop to book is the circuit scene of the 90s—which I am actually fairly interested in because it’s, y’know, queer history and all that, and I was … um … about ten years old, watching adverts on the BBC about how we were all going to die of AIDS, which involved John Hurt narrating over a literal fucking tombstone. And I will say that Garnett’s writing does capture something vivid and visceral about the scene and the time that I appreciated. But I come back to the word “backdrop” because that’s all it ever is to him: queer lives, and indeed queer death, are the means by which this book pretends it’s about anything more than a straight bloke with marital problems.

By far the most interesting moment in the book, for me, was right at the end where one of the gay guys Garnett has met through his wife (and, for some unaccountable reason, is still friends with him) admits he was angry at Garnett’s participation in the party scene, because he got to enjoy the benefits of queer culture without paying any dues. And, obviously, the concept of dues is a complicated one as queerness cannot and should not be defined by suffering. But I can’t lie, it was a sentiment I myself had been wrestling with as I made my way through the book, so it was a relief to see it finally acknowledged by the text itself. I was then anticipating some kind of discussion of privilege, appropriation and intersectionality (because, actually, queer isn’t and shouldn’t be only for queers). But. Err no. Gay Friend just goes on to confirm that it was actually totes legit for straight guy to be part of this scene that wasn’t for him, and yet managed to make all about him, because he too is confused and lost. And this was, like, a coming out for something for him or something. Please.

I should also add that Garnett’s friends are either loyal to the point of unhelpfulness or terrible judges of character, because there’s a tonne of instances throughout the book of them justifying his actions for him: pointing out his marriage is bad except he’s GREAT, that he has so much potential and his wife his holding him back, and kind of reinforcing this narrative that his wife only acts so in control to cover the fact she’s secretly “a scared little girl” inside. Something we’re apparently supposed to condemn instead of … maybe. Think about? Empathise with? Strive to understand? Garnett spends a lot of time dwelling on his own damage, like the fact he was brought up by Strong TM women, which somehow rendered him incapable of making life decisions for himself, or that he’s deeply emotionally guarded (despite the fact his wife literally begs him to talk to her on several occasions). But Rachael’s interior anxieties, the fact they drive her to substance abuse, are always treated as faintly contemptible. Because while Garnett is a man struggling to find himself in a complex world, she’s just a scared little girl, d’you see?

This even plays into Garnett and Rachael’s final, mostly amicable meeting after the divorce, when Garnett is all like sorry I got all physically threatening with you there, that was a bit over the line wasn’t it. And Rachael—with a degree of frankly heroic emotional generosity—replies “Yeah, well, we were pushing each other pretty hard, weren’t we? For a long time.” After which Garnett writes: “that was as close to either forgiveness or an apology as I was ever going to get.” Sorry … what’s that dude? You want your ex-wife to apologise to you because you physically threatened her? How much meth did you take in the 90s?

Throughout this book, Garnett is at pains to remind us that he’s straight, super straight, definitely straight, never had a moment’s doubt. But, frankly, I was never in doubt. Because writing an entire book about how your ex-wife is actually a terrible person who got in the way of your personal growth with her successful business and tragic substance abuse issues, oh ps and some gays were there, is just about the straightest thing I’ve ever read.

This sounds cliché but the moment I began reading "In the Pink" I couldn’t stop. I HAD to know what was going to happen with this guy next! This book gingerly walks the reader through an eccentric lifestyle of fabulous and questionable decisions that opens the door to more fabulous and questionable decisions with an ending you wouldn’t expect.

"In the Pink" could be called an unconventional coming of age story, but still, that means the protagonist must be a teenager. In this story, the protagonist is an adult nestling into a scene, a culture—a lifestyle where he feels accepted and comfortable. The odd thing is, he doesn’t necessarily fit the description of this world, and yet there he is thriving…kind of? Idk, it’s all perspective! At any rate, "In the Pink" teaches us that coming of age doesn’t stop when you leave your teens and become a “grown-up.” It’s a delicious, “what the…” adventure of everchanging self-discovery.

Excellent portrayal of what happens when things go too far. I raved my way through the 90s and many of the descriptions are so accurate I felt I was reliving those times. Which I haven’t wanted to do until I read this book. Thank god there were no cells phones and many memories are just too hazy. Anyway, great book and very well tightly written.