The only other new information in the piece is the fact that the first LeRoy bestseller, "Sarah," has been optioned by film director Steven Shainberg, director of "Secretary;" and some interesting details from a Vanity Fair photo shoot in which assistants to photographer Mary Ellen Mark were told not to engage "JT" in any way, even as they were doing "his" makeup, but to direct all statements and questions to "Speedie," née Albert. Mark says she read "JT" as a woman all the way, but didn't speak up; in addition, "JT"'s voice gave her away: "It was someone from a good family, not someone who came from any poor white trash" as "JT" was supposed to have done. It makes you wonder about how many other of the celebrities she has photographed are frauds and phonies about whom she's had to hold her tongue.
Benson does make one interesting point in the piece, where she creates a context for the LeRoy hoax in "San Francisco subcultures (which) don't just co-exist; they coalesce.
From Polk Street1 to North Beach2, the Mission3 to SoMa4, the music scene overlaps with performance art, which overlaps with the erotica scene, which overlaps with the queer scene, which overlaps with the literary set. The same faces pop up at LitQuake, the Red Devil Longue, Burning Man and the Exotic Erotic Ball.
That synchronicity defined the mid-90s, when the LeRoy hoax incubated. Anyone with cultural aspirations was in a band, making a movie, staging a one-person show, organizing a festival or a fundraiser or all of the above. It was the height of DIY culture, part of the punk ethos that inspired zines (the blogs of the day) by the hundreds. In this milieu, Albert began faxing messages to editors and writers, starting with hipster novelist Dennis Cooper...
That's a very smart couple of paragraphs, for a couple of reasons. First, the "overlapping" she talks about is very real, and it describes me and most of the people I know. I did almost all the things she talks about, though I started in the early 80s and by the mid-90s was about done. I did performance art, wrote erotica, held benefits (though I never attended Burning Man nor do I know anyone who thinks the Ex.Er. Ball is for anyone besides tourists -- true freaks go to the Folsom Street Fair, while the Ex.Er. Ball is for straight people). Secondly, the notion that this subcultural ferment created a petri dish for the LeRoy hoax rings true. The overlapping demimondes of San Francisco have space for all kinds of weird ideas.
Finally, to her credit, Benson quotes two local writers, Susie Bright and Michelle Tea, who have expressed outrage at the hoax (unlike Mark, who takes it in stride, and Benson herself, whose original piece on the LeRoy hoax, coming months after initial reports, was inconclusive and did more to confuse the issue than to shed light on it). My favorite outraged take on the whole thing is still Violet Blue's; she nails the real issue, which is authenticity versus posing, not as a way to separate the in-crowd from the tourists, but as a way to judge whether someone's statements and work is of value.
One more time: this matters because of the war in Iraq. If Bush can lie about WMDs; if he can present himself as a folksy Texas rancher rather than the privileged child of millionaires; if he can pretend his actions are patriotic rather than the machinations of a bunch of rich indistrialists and investors who have taken over the government, then why should readers be any more discriminating about the provenance of purported non-fiction. The difference between truth and lies matters.
Much more interesting is the piece by Jack Boulware in Salon two weeks ago which revealed Laura Albert's backround in the subcultures of SF with much greater detail. Boulware's thesis -- that Albert embarked on the whole scheme because she wanted fame -- makes clear the most ironic element of the whole thing. Her works earned the author fame, all right -- but only in a way that meant she could never reveal her true identity. Instead she had to live vicariously as "JT"'s sidekick Speedie, listening to her husband's sister communicate in gruff monosyllables. That must have been a drag.
And when the truth was finally known, Albert was generally condemned for perpetuating the hoax. There are several people who say they admire its audacity and success, but there are more condemning her as the ultimate fraud. Yeah, she's going to do a tell-all, but honestly, you think the same people who thought it was cool to get "JT LeRoy" to write for "Deadwood" or the NYT travel section will think it's cool to get Laura Albert to do that? NFW.
1 - Polk Street is the downmarket street for gay male culture and ground zero for tranny and boy hookers; tricking on Polk St. was supposedly part of the "LeRoy" bio
2 - North Beach is the traditional home of the Beats and is still regarded as a place where literature and writing are cherished
3 - The Mission is the new generation's North Beach, where housing is still relatively cheap and where there are tons of bookstores, galleries, bars and performance spaces
4 - SoMa is a sort of second-rate copy of the Mission District; it's always had fewer bookstores, galleries and such, but it is the home of the sex demimonde, with all the leather bars and leather accoutrements stores.
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