this is a raw, edgy, and unflinchingly honest debut novel that dives headfirst into the gritty underworld of 1980s New York City. Joe Westmoreland crafts a semi-autobiographical tale that’s equal parts queer coming-of-age and punk survival story, told through the eyes of a young gay man navigating sex work, addiction, identity, and artistic ambition.

What makes this novel stand out is its voice—intimate, wry, and full of both vulnerability and grit. Westmoreland doesn’t romanticize the chaos, but he doesn’t shy away from its beauty either. The result is a deeply human portrait of a time and place where marginal lives burned brightly, sometimes too briefly.

The novel pulses with the energy of queer nightlife, the ache of alienation, and the fierce will to survive and find meaning in a world that often pushes you to the edge. Westmoreland’s prose is lean and sharp, with moments of surprising tenderness and dark humor.

For readers of queer literature, memoir-style fiction, or anyone drawn to transgressive narratives that don’t flinch from truth, Tramps Like Us is a cult classic worth discovering.

Tramps Like Us is a coming of age story of a fictionalised version of Joe finding and discovering himself through the 70s and 80s, drawing on lots of the author’s lived experience.

The narrative is straightforward, forthwright and raw, which is like a good friend telling you a tale or reading their journal. This style highlights Joe’s innocence and naivety throughout as he navigates being gay in conservative America. Along his journey Joe meets lots of interesting people and has plenty of adventures - packed with sex, drugs and music - all leading him to find his chosen family of misfits.

I highly recommend this novel!

DNF at 30%.

Unfortunately, the writing style of this one just isn't for me. I spent pretty much all of what I read feeling disconnected from the main character. It felt like I was being told about someone's life from a distance, not able to feel it like you want to in a book. There are some big moments and heavy topics (check the content warnings - I sure should have), but the writing style made me feel so disconnected and distant from them. It felt less like a story I could connect to and more like a bunch of half-formed memories split apart into chapters.

This was a solid and interesting read with a straightforward writing style. I didn't realize this was a re-release and I am surprised I had not heard of this book before. It feels like it should be up there with the classics of the genre. Reminded me of On The Road - althought with a VERY different writing style. The writing can take a bit to get into. It is very flat, like someone telling you a story with no embellishment just "here is what happened." But eventually I came to appreciate that straightforwardness as honesty and authenticity, and it worked.

matter-of-fact almost-memoir with witty writing, clever turns of phrase, and a strong sense of place throughout. 5 stars. tysm for the arc.

I just can’t vibe with the writing. It feels like a collection of half-formed memories than an actual cohesive novel. “I did this, then I did this, and after, we went here and did this.” It all started to just meander and felt lifeless.

Hell even in the beginning the author is talking about how his sister was sexually raped by their father but it was written so poorly and without actual care I felt it was just added for the sake of being edgy or raw.

Shock factors were thrown in and expected to do all the heavy lifting without any real substance to back it up. At 32% I’d had enough. My thanks to NetGalley for the DRC.

𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘑𝘰𝘦? 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐’𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰.”

Sometimes we’re tired of the old queens at the end of the bar at Aunt Charlie’s, in the waft of over-buttered popcorn and undiscovered disco tracks, but they have tales to tell and ones that only stay alive by way of mouth. That’s how everything was back then, by way of mouth.

For past queers, safe spaces existed in the mouth. There weren’t online spaces to be oneself. There weren’t feeds or vlogs or apps to navigate any of this. You really had to go to the old porno bars on Nob Hill or go to public restrooms to find solace in skins we didn’t understand, in ways that was always beneath the surface. Hidden. In secret. Everything in passing. And even through all of this, HIV/AIDS took lives, the lives of friends and lovers, found-family, and so our mischievous and devious selves couldn’t let anything but guilt eat it all up. Perhaps this is why the queer identity always escapes us for those who never feel like they fit anywhere. Because this skin is fleeting. All fight or flight.

No more are sanctuary cities because you can find solace and safety online when you really look for it. But back then, you really did have to move to the great big gay meccas to be safe, to know you’re safe, even amidst all the dangers of bashings and the McCarthy hunts.

From an anthropological perspective, this tracks emotional history from all the gay meccas, little gestes in each city to make do of a life trying to get by. We get good music along the way, (how would I’ve found Soft and Wet by Prince and The Art of Parties by Japan?) and good sex, plenty of it. Boyfriends. Little loves. Drugs. But we also get the terrors. Plain and flat it is told like record-keeping, but sometimes there are wisps of melancholy that gives way to the strength and truth of good storytelling. By the end of the day, and at the end of the bar, it’s a good story, one that lives to tell all tales of what used to be.

Tramps Like Us by Joe Westmoreland is this raw, semi-autobiographical novel that really captures the energy and chaos of being young, queer, and totally unmoored in the 1970s. It follows Joe, who leaves an abusive home in Kansas City and drifts through New Orleans and San Francisco, trying to find connection, freedom, and some version of himself. The writing is unfiltered and messy in a way that feels honest—like you’re right there in the punk clubs and dive bars with him.

There’s a lot of sex, drugs, and wild energy, but underneath it all is this deep longing for love and safety. It doesn’t romanticize that era, but it definitely respects the people who lived through it. It’s kind of like a queer On the Road, though maybe not as polished—which is part of the appeal. Rough around the edges, but full of heart.

No-nonsense, unforgettable, and deeply human.

Tramps Like Us is a raw, riveting ride through queer life in the ’70s and ’80s—unapologetic, told with ease, and absolutely brimming with heart. Joe Westmoreland crafts a semi-autobiographical, modern-day Huckleberry Finn for the queer outsider, pulling readers across decades and state lines in search of freedom, identity, and something like home.

This book is a real page-turner. I couldn’t put it down.

At its core, Tramps Like Us is about the chosen families we build when the world refuses to make space for us. It captures what it was like to grow up gay in the shadow of American conservatism, navigating desire, danger, friendship, drugs, and music. Westmoreland doesn’t shy away from the messy stuff—in fact, that’s where he lives. And when the AIDS crisis begins to close in, the narrative doesn’t sensationalize or flinch; it holds space for grief and love in equal measure.

The writing is deceptively simple—unfussy, conversational, and often cutting—but it works. It feels like someone you trust telling you the truth, straight up, no frills. Readers nostalgic for queer life in the pre-digital age will find themselves swept up in the world of clubs, records, long nights, and louder dreams. And for younger readers, this book is essential: a firsthand lens into what it meant to survive, to search, and to be seen during a time when so many were lost.

Highly recommend this one—especially if you care about queer history, found family, or just a damn good story.

Tramps Like Us was originally published in 2001 but due to life and world circumstances leading to the book not getting much traction, it is being republished in 2025. It's both autobiographical and fiction, the story based heavily on the author's own life while also making enough changes to where fiction comes into play.

The story takes place between 1974 and 1986, following Joe as he leaves home for the first time to travel around the USA. As a young gay man in this era, he is having a lot of sex, shooting up drugs and meeting people who will come in and out of his life. This is the era before and during the AIDS crisis, but the novel focuses a lot on Joe's relationships, and the places he goes to. It's not plot heavy until nearer the end.

I wish I had clicked more with this book, but unfortunately I didn't. There was too much "and then I did this, and then I did this" to make me invested. As I said, a lot of character focus and not a whole lot of plot. I think this book will resonate a lot with older American gay men who also lived through that era and can relate to all the things Joe talks about.

A rambling novel about a young gay man’s coming of age. It’s more of a series of moments and scenes in his life as opposed to a structured plot, but I enjoyed that as it was like hearing stories from a friend.

I loved the characters, the found family, and how the time spanned from pre-AIDS to after. I thought that was especially interesting as many novels I’ve read have focused on the time after the AIDS epidemic started, but I liked how this novel covered the 70’s and 80’s, and how the epidemic slowly creeps in the book and affects the characters.

Definitely worth the read if you enjoy queer fiction!

Thank you to NetGalley and MCD for this ARC!

“Tramps Like Us” is a semi-autobiographical novel telling the partially fictionalised story of author Joe Westmoreland’s life, from growing up in 1960s and 70s Missouri to moving around the United States, living in places such as New Orleans and San Francisco. Along the way we watch the narrator, Joe, come into his identity as a gay man, learn what he likes and dislikes, find friends and lovers and of course do a whole lot of drugs. But despite the prevalence of scenes of him and his friends going from club to bar and bar to club, at the heart of this novel is the story of queer people and social underdogs coming together and building their own family units, their own support systems, which are there for them even in death.

As someone born in the 2000s I have absolutely no way of even imagining the gay experience of the 70s and 80s, but I really liked the way this book portrayed both the ups and downs of this time. It showed how many people were alienated from their families and how they found their own, new families, it showed the fun of drugs and partying, but also how those things could drain you, and it showed a great variety of different ways of getting through (and sometimes ahead in) life.

Of course one can’t talk about a gay book set in the 80s without also mentioning AIDS. While this book does discuss and show the effects of the mounting AIDS epidemic on our narrator and his friends, I certainly wouldn’t say it is the focus of the book. It is, however, much of the focus of the last 20% or so, as the narration enters the mid-80s, and these last 20% filled me equally with dread and heartbreak, but also with genuine warmth as we watch these characters care for each other through the last months of someone’s life, doing everything to be there for the sick and for each other. As I cherish friendships over any other relationships, reading these scenes meant the world to me.

Another element I felt was very important to this book’s identity were the many references to music – the music the narrator likes, the music his friends like, the music playing in the clubs and bars they go to, the concerts they go see. I unfortunately have near zero knowledge of 60s-80s New Wave (?) music, but if you do I imagine this book will hit even harder for you, especially in the nostalgia department.

Really the only thing I feel I must mention before someone reads this book (and I think everyone should) is its writing style. I am someone who tends to prefer purple prose, so the very simplistic writing style with short sentences was a bit difficult for me to get into, but if that is something you prefer you’ll probably fly through this even more quickly than I did.

Overall I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to know more about queer life in the 70s/80s, one person’s experience of the AIDS epidemic, or if you really love this period’s music and want to have a fun (but heartbreaking, keep that in mind) ride down memory lane.

I’m often wary of books about the AIDS crisis, because many of them just become gay trauma porn. However, this didn’t feel like that. Yes, there is tragedy in here - but it is told in such a way that I didn’t feel like that was all it was about, while still important. I really enjoyed this and it made me feel many emotions.

Absolutely love the retro cover, it’s sexy and fun and alluring and im happy to say the book is all those things too. I think this is great for readers that love Edmund White.

I really wanted to like this book. The premise sounded interesting but I honestly struggled to finish it.

The biggest issue for me was the writing style and pacing. The writing didn’t flow well, and some of the descriptions just felt completely off or even ridiculous. One that really stuck out (in a bad way) was: “The mirrored disco ball spun specks of light all over the reminded me of flakes of oatmeal before it’s cooked.” That’s just one example, but there were a lot of lines like that that pulled me out of the story instead of drawing me in.

The pacing and structure were also pretty chaotic. It was hard to get a clear sense of the timeline or how much time was passing in different parts of the main character’s life. It all felt a bit of a mess.

What disappointed me most, though, was how emotionally flat it felt. There are some intense moments—like scenes of SA early on—but I still felt totally disconnected from the characters and events. I wanted to care, but I just didn’t.

Overall, I think this book had a lot of potential, but the execution didn’t work for me at all.

An important book from an important perspective: this is exactly the kind of story that the world needs to read right now. Looking forward handselling this title!!

Shocked by how little I've heard about this book considering how good it was! I really took my sweet time reading it because it made me feel so many things, I was in for a ride. The writing, the characters, everything was just so interesting and profound, I was really in my feels a lot of the times.

Tramps Like Us by Joe Westmoreland is a compelling memoir that offers an honest and raw look at the life of a young man grappling with identity, love, and self-discovery. Set against the backdrop of two turbulent decades in America, the 1970s and 1980s, Westmoreland's writing is poignant and at times brutally candid, capturing the struggle of growing up and searching for meaning in a world filled with challenges. His reflective style creates an intimate connection with readers, making it easy to empathize with his journey. Though at times dark and heavy, the book ultimately portrays a message of resilience and the complexity of human experience. It’s a powerful, thought-provoking read for anyone interested in memoirs that delve into the intricacies of life’s more difficult moments.

Tramps Like Us is described as a mix of a novel and a memoir and that's the best way to describe it.

The story was very interesting, if a bit hard at time because of the subjects it contains. Please, read the content or trigger warnings before reading this book. There's a universe of differences between Joe's life and mine and sometimes it felt impossible to believe that he really could have lived like that. In between the drug use, the possibility to move and travel on a whim and the sex scenes, I felt like I was reading a story from another world.
The story made me feel hundred of emotions, anger, happiness, confusion and a lot of sadness with the ending. This story is heartfelt and bittersweet. The writing pulls you in. It's clinical and journalistic, like Joe is just relating facts as they happened. But, still, you can feel everything. It's an interesting experience to read.
There is a note from the author at the end, explaining that he took events from his life and people he met. He just edited some stuffs to make it 'flow better'. This is a re-edition, the book was first published in 2001. And I think it's a really interesting book to read.
I was interested since the synopsis but the preface is what really made me intrigued with the book. I think it's a really interesting book to read and I would definitely recommend it, with caution.

an insanely interesting novel to dive into. it really shows the struggles of what gays went through during such a scary time.