What a mess of gay-fiction cliches this is. Let me summarize the story for you, and don't be bothered by the fact that I'm giving away plot elements, because not a single one of them is surprising, anyway.
Tommy and Nathan are brothers, both gay, survivors of a miserable childhood with a now deceased, emotionally abusive father. Tommy's 29, and he's the golden boy -- pretty, blond, sunny disposition, enjoys sex. Nathan's 31; he's the dark, brooding, bitter one who still lives in the small town where the boys grew up, and is more circumspect about his sexuality (in part because he's a high school teacher in a small town) to the point that he hasn't gotten laid in five years.
It's summer, and Tommy's coming back to the family seaside home for a visit, bringing his current boyfriend, Philip, and their friends Kyle and Camille. Philip's just beginning to realize that Tommy's not a long-term kind of partner; Kyle and Camille are having marital problems, mainly because Kyle is -- all together now! -- a closet case.
Also hanging around the house this summer is 15-year-old Simon, one of Nathan's summer-school students; Simon's being beaten by his father, and is -- you got it -- beginning to come to terms with his own homosexuality. Kyle flirts with Nathan; Tommy flirts with Simon; when it's all over, everyone is miserable, and Tommy is dead.
There's a lot to hate about this book. Tommy's death falls into the old tradition, which I had once dared to think obsolete, that any character who actually likes being gay must be punished with death for his happiness. The principal characters are all terribly cavalier about Tommy's sexual conquest of a boy half his age; the only one who's bothered is Nathan, and Yates paints him as such an uptight jerk that we're clearly meant to see his disapproval as outdated prudishness.
Then there's the heavy-handed symbolic subplot about the local history nut who's digging up the family cornfield, hoping to find evidence of an ancient Indian village. Ooo, digging up the buried past -- can't get much less subtle than that.
The Brothers Bishop is an awful book, and could only be recommended as a "what not to do" study aid for the aspiring novelist.
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