Mary Ann in Autumn by Armistead Maupin

I didn't read the first book until thirty-two years after it was published. I read the eighth, and most recent, book just five months later, never having read any of the stories in between. Cause that's just the kind of disordered, non-conformist I am, that's why.

The story began in 1976, when Mary Ann Singleton, twenty-five-year-old secretary from Cleveland, shocked her parents by moving to San Francisco. At some point in those intermediate stories, she left her husband and adopted daughter to pursue a tv career in New York. Twenty years later, she returns to San Francisco and the comfort of old friends to deal with the recent break-up of her second marriage, and a cancer diagnosis (Don't worry - not a spoiler - that's in the first chapter.)

When I reviewed the first book, I was struck by the common goal of the characters. Regardless of age, race, income or sexual orientation, each was searching for genuine love and acceptance - a human connection. That theme continues, but with a dose of second chances and a twist of age-related wisdom.  Life is all about the relationships! 

"It all goes so fast, she thought. We dole out our lives in dinner parties and plane flights, and it's over before you know it. We lose everyone we love, if they don't lose us first, and every single thing we do is intended to distract us from that reality." 

There is a children's book by Karen Kingsbury called Let Me Hold You Longer, about how parents savor their children's firsts - first steps, first words - but the lasts often pass by without a sound or a nod. I don't remember the last time one of my children ran to me to be picked up, or the last time I took them to school. (I recommend that every mother read it regardless of their children's age - but, seriously, get a fistfull of Kleenex first.)

That book came to mind as I read, watching Mary Ann learn that the same lesson applies to friends. We let friendships slide. Life gets in the way, visits and calls become fewer and fewer until they are gone. As she remembers her friend, Mona, who died of breast cancer a few years earlier, she admonishes herself, "There was another one she had carelessly lost forever,without even knowing the actual moment she had lost her."

I don't know if this volume is intended to be the final Tale of the City, but I felt like I caught up with the characters (or them with me?).  We all ended in the same place - with some things, regretfully, finished and some new possibilities just beginning.

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Amistead Maupin's writing is a treasure chest of quotes you want to remember.  Here are the ones that made my Favorite Quotes notebook:

Shawna: "I just don't understand, that's all."
Anna: "Understand what?"
Shawna: "Why the universe hands me such random shit."
Anna: "Sometimes the universe has a slow day."

"DeDe never claimed to be hip, and really didn't care who knew it."

On receiving a compliment:  "Mary Ann laughed, "You're a shamless liar." But such a lovely friend, she thought." (Isn't that the perfect description of a girlfriend?)


On visiting a clothing-optional beach:  "I just don't think that people my age should be inflicting their naked selves on the landscape. It's not generally appreciated. It's the same reason I don't litter."


On traveling through a mountain pass in a snowstorm:  "He was going forty-five around a bend where thirty-five had been suggested, and she'd just caught a glimpse of the gaping chasm beyond the road, the instant oblivion that some people liked to call a View."


And my personal favorite:

As Mary Ann regrets the broken relationship with her daughter, Mrs. Madrigal consoles: "Daughters, you'll find, are surprisingly retrievable."

Tales of the City by Amistead Maupin

In 1976, a groundbreaking serial called Tales of the City first appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle. This masterfully rendered portrait of the interweaving relationships of the inhabitants of 28 Barbary Lane in San Francisco's Russian Hill was both an instant smash and a source of controversy as it paid particular mind to the city's strong gay community. In spite of naysayers, Tales of the City attracted a legion of devoted followers. Readers of the Chronicle were known to Xerox copies of the stories and pass them on to friends. Tales of the City themed scavenger hunts were held throughout San Francisco. A local pub even named a drink after one of the serial's protagonists, Anna Madrigal. In 1978, a collection of the stories were gathered together into an extremely popular volume. Most important of all, Tales of the City became a watershed work of gay literature. (from author bio @ Barnes and Noble.com)

As a librarian, I probably shouldn't admit that up until I saw this post by Keris Stainton (blogger and YA author extraordinaire) I was not familiar with Tales of the City.   But since Keris referred to it as one of her favorite books, I needed to see what I was missing.  I got a bit of a surprise - as in, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas any more." - but was intrigued enough to now want to read the entire series. 

1976, seen through the residents of 28 Barbary Lane, San Francisco, was a world apart from the 1976 I experienced as a high-school student in Kansas!  As you can imagine, my conservative, midwest life made parts of this story disquieting for me, but I learned a lesson about human nature.  The story begins with Mary Ann Singleton, twenty-five-year-old secretary from Cleveland, who shocks her parents by moving to San Francisco.  The tale expands to embrace the interwoven lives of the residents of the apartment house at 28 Barbary Lane, their friends, co-workers and lovers. 

This is the bohemian, free-love world of the Haight/Ashbury era. At first it seems freeing, but after a while the acceptance is revealed to be a facade. The "to each his own" or "I'm ok/You're ok" attitude eventually gives way to a common goal.  Underneath, every character, regardless of age, race, income or sexual orientation, is searching for one thing - genuine love and acceptance.  The one-night-stand, non-conformist lifestyle that they lived to prove how modern they were, eventually became shallow and left them longing for a more universal and conventional connection:

"Well, Mary Ann and I had this really heavy session where she told me she wanted to go back to Cleveland, and I gave her the whole est trip about taking control of her life and all...but the creepy thing is that sometimes I think she's right.  Maybe we should all go back to Cleveland." (p. 218)

""I need....some sort of security, Mouse.  I'm thirty-one years old...I'm sick of buying clothes at Goodwill and pretending they're funky.  I want a bathroom you can clean and a microwave oven and a place to plant roses and a dog who'll recognize me when I come home." (p. 254)

Mr. Maupin's tales combine the individual stories of the residents of 28 Barbary Lane into one melting-pot that proves the adage: "The things that unite us are greater than the things that separate us."