Ulysses Dietz Member of The Paranormal Guild Review Team Rating: 4 stars Title: You Always You Author: M.E. Publisher: The author Genre: romance M/M Publication date: 2020 Page count: TBD
Okay, I’m not going to join the crowd and put my hand over my heart, raving that this was the best thing I ever read. It is not. However, it is an interesting, beautifully crafted exercise in distilling a romance novel down to what young people remember about a great love affair—mostly the great sex, but also the endless little moments of shared intimacy that transform their lives while it’s happening.
A young New Zealander of Indian heritage finds himself at a party in Berlin, where he catches the eye of a sophisticated, slightly jaded bisexual man in his late twenties. They flirt, they go out, the younger one (only ever referred to as “you”) calls the older one “daddy.” The story is narrated in the first person by the elder of the two, as he watches, sometimes with disbelief, their relationship develop over the course of a warm Berlin summer.
You Always You, is smart, and cleverly written—quirky, episodic, sexy, and brimming with unexpressed emotion and youthful self-deception. The two young men enjoy their daddy-boy routine, but they are close enough in age that they basically manipulate each other, fondly and with great delight, as they get to know each other’s foibles and desires.
A short coda by the initials-only author suggests that this might be a true story, and certainly a profound one for the writer. Looking back across my own life, I can assert one relevant truth: young people are stupid. I can say that because I remember being young and naïve just like “you.” I remember the first romance I ever had, and every single stage of its development along the way is etched into my memory. When you’re young, you’re full of yourself—horny, passionate, cocksure. Both “you” and “I” in M.E.’s story are all of this, although “I” has the worldly smugness I remember so well in myself.
For all the concentration on the sexual role-playing—expertly and believably written—the author takes care to salt in critical particulars about this relationship that make it clear that it is exactly those unwritten details that, ultimately, make this relationship significant to both men. “I” shows himself to be cynical in a way that too many young gay men are; while “you” is insecure in ways that all of us can remember, if we’re honest.
This story isn’t meant to be satisfying; it’s meant to be intense. While the ending is not cut and dried, we are encouraged to make assumptions. I remember this too; I left, but he didn’t stay. He came with me, and that was forty-five years ago.
Rating: 4 stars
Title: You Always You
Author: M.E.
Publisher: The author
Genre: romance
M/M
Publication date: 2020
Page count: TBD
Okay, I’m not going to join the crowd and put my hand over my heart, raving that this was the best thing I ever read. It is not. However, it is an interesting, beautifully crafted exercise in distilling a romance novel down to what young people remember about a great love affair—mostly the great sex, but also the endless little moments of shared intimacy that transform their lives while it’s happening.
A young New Zealander of Indian heritage finds himself at a party in Berlin, where he catches the eye of a sophisticated, slightly jaded bisexual man in his late twenties. They flirt, they go out, the younger one (only ever referred to as “you”) calls the older one “daddy.” The story is narrated in the first person by the elder of the two, as he watches, sometimes with disbelief, their relationship develop over the course of a warm Berlin summer.
You Always You, is smart, and cleverly written—quirky, episodic, sexy, and brimming with unexpressed emotion and youthful self-deception. The two young men enjoy their daddy-boy routine, but they are close enough in age that they basically manipulate each other, fondly and with great delight, as they get to know each other’s foibles and desires.
A short coda by the initials-only author suggests that this might be a true story, and certainly a profound one for the writer. Looking back across my own life, I can assert one relevant truth: young people are stupid. I can say that because I remember being young and naïve just like “you.” I remember the first romance I ever had, and every single stage of its development along the way is etched into my memory. When you’re young, you’re full of yourself—horny, passionate, cocksure. Both “you” and “I” in M.E.’s story are all of this, although “I” has the worldly smugness I remember so well in myself.
For all the concentration on the sexual role-playing—expertly and believably written—the author takes care to salt in critical particulars about this relationship that make it clear that it is exactly those unwritten details that, ultimately, make this relationship significant to both men. “I” shows himself to be cynical in a way that too many young gay men are; while “you” is insecure in ways that all of us can remember, if we’re honest.
This story isn’t meant to be satisfying; it’s meant to be intense. While the ending is not cut and dried, we are encouraged to make assumptions. I remember this too; I left, but he didn’t stay. He came with me, and that was forty-five years ago.