Armistead Maupin
by Will Roberts
by Will Roberts
I grew up in a village near Blackpool in the 1990s. Possibly as far away as you can get from San Francisco in the 1970s. Yet Armistead Maupin and his 'Tales of the City' books spoke to me as a 14 year old, and showed me it was ok to be different, it was ok to follow my own path and that I wasn't quite so alone.
Don't get me wrong, as stated, I grew up near Blackpool, gay wasn't an alien concept to me. It just felt so removed from who I was and more than just a little bit terrifying.
The Tales of the City series opened my eyes to a world where people were accepted and loved for their differences. A collection of misfits and drifters - the type of people marginalised and on the outskirts of society - all collected together as a surrogate family under the roof of 28 Barbary Lane. Despite their often outlandish adventures in and around the Bay Area, they never stop being fully rounded, living, breathing characters. They're not just a family to each other, though, they're a family to me too. Every time I re-read the old books, or a new one comes out, it's like checking in on loved ones.
I remember going into Waterstones in Blackpool and casually looking at whichever sections boarded the dreaded 'Gay and Lesbian' nook. Looking around until the coast was clear, then smash and grabbing the next volume in the series. When I'd get home I'd devour each entry in a matter of days. Always so full when I was done, but still hungry for more.
They were the first books that made me laugh and gasp out loud. They were the first books that made me cry (the beginning of Babycakes... I'll say no more), and Armistead Maupin is the man who gave me this world. This wonderful world created by this wonderful man.
He inspired me to go travelling around the States and spending a month in San Francisco. It felt like coming home. I met a guy who loved the books as much as I did and we visited all the locations referenced. We walked the streets holding hands and kissed in Golden Gate Park. I felt like the spirits of Anna, Mouse, Mary Ann and the rest were alive in me.
Before the release of 'Michael Tolliver Lives' - Maupin's return to the Barbary Lane characters after 18 years away, I went to listen to him speak in Manchester as part of the Queer Up North festival. To me it was the equivalent of going to see a favourite band, only bigger than that. I can't think of one person who's touched on my life in such a positive way as he has (outside of family and friends, obvs). He was as funny and articulate in person as he is in the written word, and it felt so magical to listen to him in an auditorium full of people who felt the same. When it came time for the Q&A I got to ask a question. I nervously stood up and told him what he'd meant to me growing up, and asked if he'd had any idea whilst writing of the impact his works might have had on someone like me. He answered that he had not, but he thanked me for telling him so.
In hindsight it was a silly question. In the 70s and 80s as he wrote his serialised stories in the San Francisco Chronicle, the world was a much smaller place. He wrote about what he knew - with added, ludicrous drama, it just happened to be that what he wrote and what he knew was so incredibly appealing to millions of people across the world.
He's given so many people an extended family they may or may not have known they were looking for. He's done so with charm, wit, courage and subversion. For these reasons Armistead Maupin will always be my gay hero, and will always be my most favourite funny uncle.
Don't get me wrong, as stated, I grew up near Blackpool, gay wasn't an alien concept to me. It just felt so removed from who I was and more than just a little bit terrifying.
The Tales of the City series opened my eyes to a world where people were accepted and loved for their differences. A collection of misfits and drifters - the type of people marginalised and on the outskirts of society - all collected together as a surrogate family under the roof of 28 Barbary Lane. Despite their often outlandish adventures in and around the Bay Area, they never stop being fully rounded, living, breathing characters. They're not just a family to each other, though, they're a family to me too. Every time I re-read the old books, or a new one comes out, it's like checking in on loved ones.
I remember going into Waterstones in Blackpool and casually looking at whichever sections boarded the dreaded 'Gay and Lesbian' nook. Looking around until the coast was clear, then smash and grabbing the next volume in the series. When I'd get home I'd devour each entry in a matter of days. Always so full when I was done, but still hungry for more.
They were the first books that made me laugh and gasp out loud. They were the first books that made me cry (the beginning of Babycakes... I'll say no more), and Armistead Maupin is the man who gave me this world. This wonderful world created by this wonderful man.
He inspired me to go travelling around the States and spending a month in San Francisco. It felt like coming home. I met a guy who loved the books as much as I did and we visited all the locations referenced. We walked the streets holding hands and kissed in Golden Gate Park. I felt like the spirits of Anna, Mouse, Mary Ann and the rest were alive in me.
Before the release of 'Michael Tolliver Lives' - Maupin's return to the Barbary Lane characters after 18 years away, I went to listen to him speak in Manchester as part of the Queer Up North festival. To me it was the equivalent of going to see a favourite band, only bigger than that. I can't think of one person who's touched on my life in such a positive way as he has (outside of family and friends, obvs). He was as funny and articulate in person as he is in the written word, and it felt so magical to listen to him in an auditorium full of people who felt the same. When it came time for the Q&A I got to ask a question. I nervously stood up and told him what he'd meant to me growing up, and asked if he'd had any idea whilst writing of the impact his works might have had on someone like me. He answered that he had not, but he thanked me for telling him so.
In hindsight it was a silly question. In the 70s and 80s as he wrote his serialised stories in the San Francisco Chronicle, the world was a much smaller place. He wrote about what he knew - with added, ludicrous drama, it just happened to be that what he wrote and what he knew was so incredibly appealing to millions of people across the world.
He's given so many people an extended family they may or may not have known they were looking for. He's done so with charm, wit, courage and subversion. For these reasons Armistead Maupin will always be my gay hero, and will always be my most favourite funny uncle.
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