My Loose Thread

Dennis Cooper

My Loose Thread is above all a difficult book to read. Not just because Cooper is obviously a born-and-bred postmodern writer, but because this is not subject matter that's going to sit well with most folks, and the confusion engendered by both the style and having a narrator who gives new meaning to the word "unreliable" can make this book into something of a chore. However, once you get down to the meat of the novel, it's worth it.

Larry is a teen who is, shall we say, somewhat messed up. He's having problems dealing with confusion. A whole lot of problems, in fact. Not only is he struggling with his emerging homosexuality (he denies, to himself and others, that he's gay, but it's pretty obvious to the reader he's in denial), which comes out in part in a sexual relationship with his younger brother, but also with the death of his friend Rand after the two of them fought. Even though Rand seems to have died of natural causes, Larry can't help but blame himself, for relatively obvious reasons. Thanks (we gather) due to the new mystique surrounding Larry in certain circles as a result of Rand's death, he's been approached by Gilman Crowe, head of the school's Nazi sect, to kill a fellow student and get the kid's notebook. (Whether Larry is then supposed to turn the notebook over to Crowe or destroy it is a piece of the puzzle which shifts throughout the novel.) As the book opens, Larry is doing the deed with the help of his on-again off-again girlfriend Jude and her other lover Pete; Larry comes into possession of the notebook, reads it, and finds his world tilting even further askew. Why this is, we never quite find out, but some conclusions can be drawn by the rest of the novel's events.

The first point of artistry the reader is likely to notice here is that Cooper never actually quotes from the kid's notebook-- it achieves a sort of iconic status as the novel progresses, but the reader can only infer the vaguest details about its contents. It's the literary equivalent of the nameless thing-in-the-trunk in Pulp Fiction; no one knows what it is, but everyone who comes into contact with it is in some way changed. The second point is that despite Larry's inability to be honest with himself (and thus the reader, as the book is told from Larry's POV), we emerge with a relatively complete picture of him. We can never quite be sure what he's doing, but by the end of the book, we have an idea of why he's doing it. The act of getting to know Larry is the reader's basic task with this novel, and rest assured, you'll have to work for it. If you succeed, however, you will definitely feel as if the time you've spent mulling over the events here was well worth it. Definitely not a book for everyone (if gay incestuous themes turn your stomach, for example, you'd do well to stay away), but the balm of Gilead for the few.