It’s 1988. The gay community in the U.S. has been rocked by AIDS. For 28-year-old Kevin and many others, life is an endless journey of watching friends waste away and die, and attending far too many funerals.
Kevin hasn't stopped mourning his partner, Francesco, in the two years since he died. He still lives in their NYC apartment. Everyone tells him he should try and move on, but he can’t seem to find the motivation to do so, preferring to numb the pain with alcohol.
When he hits rock bottom, at the urging of friends and family, he returns home to Minneapolis to live with his aunt Nora. He tries to move forward in fits and starts, and with the help of a support group for people whose partners have died, he feels like he’s making some progress. But he is further tested by news that his best friend is nearing the end of his struggle with AIDS, so he heads back to NYC.
This is a gorgeously written, emotional book about grief, fear, feeling like no one understands how you feel and what you’re going through, and the guilt of surviving that many felt (and still do). How can you get on with your life when your partner and your friends didn’t have that chance?
There is certainly sadness in After Francesco but I never found it overwhelming. Malloy captured the feel and vibe of the late 1980s so well. I began coming to terms with my sexuality then, and I remember the fears and uncertainty surrounding dating and sex because no one was 100 percent sure how you could get AIDS.
For me, this book stands with The Great Believers and Christodora, two other terrific books which chronicled that time period. (You should totally read those if you haven't.)
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