Very much like the film but one of those rare instances where I liked the film better than the book. Perhaps that's because I saw the movie before reading the book.

That's not to say the book wasn't stunningly good because it was. That poignant atmosphere is there. The characters are complex and interesting. But because I knew the ending I read with a kind of dread. Absolutely recomended for open-minded and intellectually curious individuals which likely would not include Elon Musk. Very good reading indeed.

That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

This book is like a punch in the gut. I never thought that a short story could have such an impact on me. This isn’t simply a book about two cowboys falling in love: this is the heartbreaking tale of Jack and Ennis who love each other, but deny it not only because they’re afraid of the outside world, but also of their own feelings.
America in the 1960’s wasn’t a safe place for homosexuals after all, and if society can’t accept them, how can they accept themselves? That emotional struggle makes this book so heart-wrenching, because both men know their love for each other is real. It just can’t happen. And that tears them apart.

[Jack:] “You have no fuckin idea how bad it gets. I’m not you. I can’t make it on a couple a high-altitude fucks once or twice a year. You’re too much for Ennis, you son of a whoreson bitch. I wish I knew how to quit you.”

Maybe this story hits so much harder because the books I read earlier featured happy LGBT-characters. Where young transgender Stella gets the full support of her mother (The Sunlight Pilgrims) and Simon’s coming out is met with positive reactions (Simon Vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda), Jack and Ennis’s (love) life is anything but happy and easy. They were two masculine men living in prejudice Wyoming during the sixties, a place where young Ennis saw an old rancher being tortured to death for being gay. This was not uncommon back then, and times haven’t really changed for the better.
Because although the world is slowly getting more accepting of gay love, still so many LGBT-people are getting harassed, kicked out, or physically and/or emotionally abused because of who they love. Don’t get blinded by the Pride Parades or the legalisation of same-sex marriage in America: the world is still a cruel place for many.

This is why I think Brokeback Mountain is a must read for fans of LGBT-books, to get that reality check. To other readers I’d also recommend this book, because for a book with only 60 pages, this short story packs a powerful punch. The prose is concise and the writing style rough, but it suits the characters and their story.

5 stars for this heart-breaking little book, which I won’t forget soon.

"There was some open space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it, and if you can’t fix it you’ve got to stand it."

Beautiful. From beginning to end. Definitely better than the film (even though I enjoyed the film too).

Ήταν Μάιος του 2006. Μέχρι τότε είχα δανειστεί βιβλία μόνο από την κινητή βιβλιοθήκη ή την βιβλιοθήκη του γυμνασίου. Έλα που, όμως, εγώ το 2006 ήμουν λύκειο. Το, εν λόγω, λύκειο, δεν είχε βιβλιοθήκη. Σαν να μην έφτανε αυτό, η περιοχή της βόρειας Κέρκυρας δεν είχε και δεν έχει δημοτική βιβλιοθήκη. Μου είχε καταστεί σαφές, λοιπόν, αρκετά νωρίς, πως το κράτος δεν θεωρεί χρήσιμο να έχει, ο κοινωνικός ιστός, βιβλιοθήκες. Ήταν και είναι, μάλλον, περιττό. Αλλά αυτή είναι άλλη συζήτηση, ή, μάλλον, καλύτερα, άλλος πόνος.
Έτσι, όταν δεν έβρισκα αυτό που έψαχνα στην κινητή βιβλιοθήκη, αναγκαζόμουν να το αγοράσω. Αλλά, πως να αγοράσεις κάτι τέτοιο, σε μια μικρή επαρχία; Είχα εναποθέσει τις ελπίδες μου στο ίδιο το πόνημα της Άννυ Πρου. Πολλά τα διηγήματα μέσα στο βιβλίο. Μπορεί ο τοπικός βιβλιοπώλης να μην ξέρει, τι πουλάει. Όντως δεν ήξερε. Βλέπετε, δεν ήταν Δημουλίδου. ΤΕΛΟΣ ΠΑΝΤΩΝ. Αγοράζω το βιβλίο, το κρύβω, βιαστικά, μέσα στην σχολική μου τσάντα, λες και ήταν ναρκωτικά. Το απογευματάκι της ίδιας ημέρας, στρώνομαι στο διάβασμα, μιας και η πρώτη λυκείου μου άφηνε αρκετό ελεύθερο χρόνο.
Διαβάζοντας την πρώτη σελίδα κατάλαβα πως εδώ δεν μιλάμε για κάποια love stories, αλλά για μια συνεχή αναζήτηση. Συναντώ, λοιπόν, έναν πικραμένο γέρο σε μια πορεία αναζήτησης της πεισματικά ξεχασμένης νιότης του. Έναν νέο που βλέπει τον κόσμο γύρω του να γκρεμίζεται, μαζί με τα όνειρά του. Παλιούς θρύλους και οικογενειακά μυστικά. Έρωτες που δε χωράνε στα μέτρα των ανθρώπων. Φιγούρες άλλοτε φαιδρές κι άλλοτε τραγικές, φιγούρες ανυπόφορα μόνες, αντιμέτωπες με την αγριότητα της ψυχής αλλά και της φύσης. Όλα αυτά με φόντο τις ερημιές του κάντρι Γουαϊόμινγκ στην Αμερική του 1963.
Τα διηγήματα είχαν όλα κοινό παρονομαστή. Το αδιέξοδο. Οι επιλογές που στερεύουν. Άνθρωποι εγκλωβισμένοι, άλλοτε σε ορατά και άλλοτε σε αόρατα κελιά. Κελιά είπα; Όχι. Κλουβιά, όχι κελιά. Τα κελιά έχουν, παραδόξως, κάτι στην χροιά τους που τα κάνει ευάερα. Τα κλουβιά, όμως, είναι στενά και κλειστοφοβικά. Όσοι βρίσκονται μέσα σε κλουβιά αναπνέουν με το ζόρι. Αυτοί είναι οι χαρακτήρες της Άννυ Πρου. Ήρωες, οι οποίοι προσπαθούν ή προσπάθησαν να ευτυχίσουν και δεν τα κατάφεραν. Ήρωες, των οποίων η ζωή, σε κάποιο άλλο, ποιο σύγχρονο, πλαίσιο θα ήταν ευτυχέστερη. Ήρωες, των οποίων η ζωή ξεγλιστρά από τα χέρια τους, σαν να ήταν νερό. Ήρωες καφκικοί.

Read More Here: https://nikolasinbookland.wordpress.c...

A beautiful and tragic tale. Now I get to become an, "Actually, the story was better than the movie because..." guy.


Apologies to the memory of Heath Ledger

I read this recently for an LGBT book club. What can I say, I didn't like it. (I have seen the movie and didn't like that either.)

This is the story of two young men in the west in the sixties who have a love affair while tending sheep one summer. This affair continues for many years, until one of the characters is brutally killed.

According to one of the blurbs on the back of the book Brokeback Mountain "Abolishes the Old West cliches". Perhaps, but it does nothing to abolish the tired old gay cliches. When Ann Bannon wrote the Beebo Brinker chronicles in the late fifties there was one simple rule for gay literature, no matter what good things happen during the book it's got to end badly. Beebo Brinker, Jiovanni's Room, The Well of loneliness...Do we really need another story about how it sucks to be gay and it will, of course, end badly?

I also couldn't ultimately buy into the whole relationship. It seems to happen so fast and with so little discussion. I would never in a million years let some guy screw me when he won't talk about what's going on, or for that matter, look me in the face. As a result I can't put myself into either character's shoes or accept them as anything other than fictional.

The third and final thing I didn't like has to do with the fact that Annie Proulx is a straight woman. It's not that straight writers can't write gay characters, or for that matter that gay writers can't write straight characters. It's just that she has received so many accolades for this story pisses me off.

The movie, directed by a straight man and people with mostly straight cast members, pisses me off even more. This is a story told by straight people about how they perceive the LGBT community. Then they want to pat themselves on the back about what a great thing they've done for us. All the while they are ignoring some many great LGBT authors who are writing and painting a much more diverse, vibrant and accurate picture of what our lives are really like.

This story is probably the perfect length for laying out in the yard on a Sunday afternoon. I'm thinking of a hammock...

But anyway, I guess we're supposed to talk about the "writing."
A real economy of language. Very sparse. It's like Proulx kept carving away down to just what was essential. And yet, this beautiful landscape and beautiful (and sad) love story comes through so sharply.

You almost can't not mention the film.
And I have to say, I was pretty impressed. Lots of detalil in the film. I saw it twice and picked up different details both times.
And maybe without intetion, this story was such a commentary on rural gay life, which is such a different vantage point we seldom view gay life. So much of the gay sensability, as portrayed by pop culture, is urban, smart, rich and image-driven. I don't think this story was any of those things.

And as someone who sees gay life from a rural perspective, many folks in my neck of the woods connected closely with this story.

Awww….Hell.

The quiet crush of depression creeps up on you with this one. At first, I was wondering about all the fuss as the the first third of the story laid out. By the midsection, the road ahead was pretty obvious, but didn't take any of the wallop out of the end. Bloody, Motherfuckin', God-Damned Sonnabitch!

Two men with no clue how to get what they really want and wasting time until there ain't no more.

I never really had any intention of reading this book. I've never seen the movie either. (Though I might now. I'm curious how they handled it.) Stories about ranchers & cowboys don't exactly draw me in. To be honest, Annie Proulx's stories don't have much appeal to me in general. I can't really put my finger on it, but they just don't scream "Read me!" when I see one.

Anyway, I had to go to the library to stop them from billing me for a book I'd already returned, and while I was there, I happened to see this book, and thought, "What the hell? It's short." So I grabbed it.

And it was worth it. This is a very short story, but it works at this length. It fits this length. It's sparse and visceral. I was surprised that on page 14, in the space of a single sentence, the relationship between Ennis and Jack goes from co-workers to lovers. It was less like a bomb dropping than like a rock smashing through a window. There's no warning, no whistling descent to warn of the impending explosion - it's just not there one second, and then it is, and there's nothing to do but deal with it.

On an emotional level, I feel for these guys. They were both dishonest with themselves for a long time, and neither of them could have the relationship they needed. Jack needed that companionship and understanding and acceptance - and he couldn't get it unconditionally from Ennis. It actually breaks my heart a little bit, because Ennis was more afraid of the "what if" than he was OK with the "what is", and they both suffered for it. Ennis lost his chance at happiness that he didn't even know he needed until it was too late. The scene at Jack's parents' house was rough, because I can imagine Ennis understanding the depth of Jack's feelings for the first time, maybe, and being unable to change how things turned out would have to be hard. Thinking about that kind of regret kind of kills me a little inside...

I'm surprised how much I liked this book. I really didn't expect to like it nearly as much as I did, but a good tear-jerker will do it for me every time. I love when a book can transcend boundaries and make me really identify with a character (or characters) and make me hurt for them. I'll definitely have to check out more of Proulx's books. Maybe there'll be more gems that I'd have otherwise missed.

Annie Proulx’s Brokeback Mountain is often hailed as a groundbreaking tale of forbidden love, a poignant exploration of masculinity, and a searing critique of societal norms. But when we cut through the romanticized haze, we can call it what it really is: a brutal, unflinching excavation of human loneliness, wrapped in the myth of the American West. This isn’t a love story—it’s a tragedy of repression, a slow-motion car crash of two lives doomed by the weight of their own silence.

Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist, two men so shackled by their own internalized sexuality and societal expectations that their love becomes a prison rather than a liberation. Their relationship is less a romance and more a series of stolen moments, furtive and desperate, like animals gnawing at their own limbs to escape a trap.

The Infamous line: “I wish I knew how to quit you.” It’s been quoted ad nauseam, plastered on Tumblr blogs and Instagram captions, stripped of its raw, ugly power. But in context, it’s not a declaration of eternal love—it’s a cry of frustration, a confession of helplessness. Ennis and Jack don’t know how to quit each other because they don’t know how to live without the pain. Their love is a wound they keep reopening, a reminder of what they can never truly have.

Proulx doesn’t let anyone off the hook—not her characters, not her readers, and certainly not the society that forces men like Ennis and Jack to live in the shadows. The story is a gut punch, that love alone is never enough to overcome the weight of prejudice, fear, and self-loathing. It’s a story that refuses to offer easy answers or happy endings, and that’s what makes it so damn uncomfortable—and so necessary.

So, no, Brokeback Mountain isn’t a “beautiful love story.” It’s a raw, unrelenting examination of the cost of living a lie. It’s a story that forces us to confront the ways we’re complicit in perpetuating systems of oppression, even as we root for Ennis and Jack to find their way to each other. And it’s a story that lingers, like a bruise you can’t stop pressing…Love it or hate it, you can’t ignore it. And maybe that’s the point.

4.3/5