The Low Road
By James Lear
Cleis Press
$14.95, 272 pp.
I was curious when James Lear's The Low Road arrived in my mail, because what little I knew about its plot can be summarized by this: erotic gay adventure novel based on Robert Louis Stevenson's classic Kidnapped. Published in 1886, Kidnapped is a historical travel tale originally intended for young boys, reflecting the political turmoil in Scotland during the mid-1800s… and so it made for a very interesting companion read in between the sweltering chapters of The Low Road. For every few hours I struggled with the dated Scottish dialect and the agonizing misadventures of Stevenson's hero, David Balfour, I was rewarded with the sluttish conquests of Lear's enormously well-endowed hero, Charles Gordon.
Thankfully, The Low Road does not just retool Stevenson's story or characters to establish its gay utopia. Instead, Lear spins an entirely new tale that borrows from the backdrop of Scotland's second Jacobite Rebellion. He also finds erotic inspiration in the undertones of David Balfour's adventure: a rough and tumble account of detainment, corruption and redemption leading up to the hero's unlikely but steadfast friendship with a rebel fighter. I imagine if you removed all the explicit sex from The Low Road you would have something similar: one young man's tumultuous journey of self-discovery. But let's focus on the explicit sex. Almost every scene is masterfully raw, passionate, creative, suggestive or taboo. Lear's descriptions are notably well-crafted, but more importantly, the sex is flat-out hot.
Charlie's story begins in his early adulthood, where we are introduced to a spoiled, inexperienced, but curious boy who is just beginning to tap into his sexuality. First with a rugged stablehand, then with many, many others. I'm talking young men, old men, poor, rich, handsome, ugly, criminal, saintly… you get the picture. The only thing these men have in common is that they are desperate for a piece of our enticing hero, even if they're afraid to admit it. And Charlie doesn't disappoint: he gives, receives, submits, dominates and has orgies like a pro. We experience these exchanges from Charlie's perspective as he discovers what an undeniable power his natural talents seem to have over men. A love story is also hurriedly introduced, and though initially too flimsy to believe, it proves sexy and enduring. It also gives Lear the opportunity to include a greater variety of encounters. In between chapters about Charlie's journey are updates from his dashing admirer, who reveals his own lusty tribulations in letters written to our hero. Readers get the benefit of tapping into a second set of desires and escapades, while Charlie, without receiving the letters, is left in the dark. In this way, Lear packs a lot of sex into one historical novel without getting too repetitive.
At times I found The Low Road to be shamelessly decadent, unrealistic or cheesy. But the elements that make this book a great piece of erotica are the same that often make for great sex: it's carefree, fanciful, doting and always ready to laugh at itself. Lear knows what I want as both a discerning book-whore, and as a person who enjoys some descriptive man-on-man action every now and then. I also appreciate how much he plays with all five senses, highly attuned to the erotic potential of our seemingly non-sexual surroundings.
So if you love adventure novels, historical fiction or queer erotica, and might enjoy some overlap, give James Lear a try. The Low Road is light, savory and playful, but shows complexity. The pages are filled with colorful characters, a cornucopia of sexual scenarios, and beautifully constructed sentences. But what impresses me the most is Lear's talent with achieving balance. He writes some of the men as convenient hunks with great measurements, while others he handles with sensitivity and depth. Sometimes Charlie is a lonely, impressionable and frustrated young man, and sometimes he's a proud, free-spirited slut. This book isn't going to please everyone, but like its hero, it tries its damnedest.
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