Sunday, November 25, 2007

Desert Island Discs

(Desert Island Discs is a BBC Radio 4 radio show that invites guests to pick songs they would take with them if they were to be stranded on a deserted island.)

Kirsty Young's castaway this week is the author Armistead Maupin.

Regarded as one of the 'great social satirists of his era', he made his name with his Tales of the City novels, chronicling the shifting cultural landscape of San Francisco throughout the 1970s and 80s.

He's written about the search for love and acceptance by a diverse cast of characters, but he was also one of the first novelists to portray the devastating impact of the newly emerging threat of HIV/Aids.

His iconic status as a gay writer and political activist couldn’t be further from his background, growing up in the genteel American South, with a 'neo-fascist, arch-conservative' father.

Armistead tells Kirsty about his transition to the other end of the political spectrum, and how his life has become inseparable from his work.

1. Mockin’ Bird Hill
Performer Patti Page
Composer Vaughn Horton
CD Title Patti Page’s Golden Hits
Track Side 1 trk 3
Rec No SR 60495

2. Moon River
Performer Audrey Hepburn
Composer Henry Mancini & Johnny Mercer
CD Title Music from the films of Audrey Hepburn
Track 11
Rec No WB245032

3. Desperado
Performer The Eagles
Composer Don Henly/Glenn Fey
CD Title The Eagles: The Complete Greatest Hits
Track 4
Rec No LISC9309063

4. Maybe This Time
Performer Liza Minnelli
Composer John Kander & lyrics by Fred Ebb
CD Title Cabaret: Original film soundtrack
Track 4
Label MCA
Rec No 2504282

5. You and Me from the musical Victor/Victoria
Performer Julie Andrews and Tony Roberts
Composer Henry Mancini/Leslie Bricusse
CD Title Victor/Victoria
Track 19
Rec No AA4469192

6. Hallelujah
Performer K D Lang
Composer Leonard Cohen
CD Title Hymns of the 49th Parallel
Track 6
Rec No 7559798472

7. The Heart of Life
Performer John Mayer
Composer John Mayer
CD Title Continum: John Mayer
Track 5
Rec No 88697011522

8. The reprise of Wicked Little Town
Performer Tommy Gnosis
Composer Stephen Trask
CD Title Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Track 11
Rec No 83160

Record: Wicked Little Town
Book: The Cole Porter Song Book
Luxury: Vaporiser

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Musical Saves Scissor Sisters From Split

Scissor Sisters frontman Jake Shears has written a musical - and credits the project with 'saving' the band. The Filthy/Gorgeous hitmaker - who has been working on the spectacle based on Armistead Maupin's Tales Of The City series of novels for the past year-- insists focusing on the show has stopped him from lashing out at his bandmates and causing a split.

He says, "Sometimes writing for the band makes you feel like you could explode, you're so focused on making it good. That was a problem we had when we were making the second record Ta-Dah. We had no lives, it was all we did. Writing the musical has been a really fun diversion because you're not so focused on the one thing."

Friday, November 2, 2007


Actress LAURA LINNEY is desperate to star in a new adaptation of TALES OF THE CITY - as long as she isn't too old for the part. The star played reporter Mary Ann Singleton in the TV adaptations of Armistead Maupin's novels about San Francisco life in the 1993, 1998 and 2001 versions - but is keen to reprise her role following this year's (07) publication of the latest installment in the series, Michael Tolliver Lives. Speaking at the London Film Festival, she tells WENN, "I would do it in a second, as long as I wasn't ridiculously too old for it. Absolutely. "It was one of my favourite jobs ever and I made friendships on that show that will last a lifetime. Armistead and I are very close. It's a real privilege to be associated with that - I loved it."

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Telling 'Tales'

Armistead Maupin honored at Litquake opener
Published 10/11/2007

by Jim Provenzano

The literati were out in force to help honor author Armistead Maupin, Oct. 6 at the Herbst Theatre at An Evening with Armistead Maupin and Friends, the opening-night event for the eight-day Litquake festival of author readings and events.

Executive directors Jack Boulware and Jane Ganahl got things off to a teasing intro. "We know that it's Fleet Week," Boulware said to Maupin, who sat in the front balcony with his partner Christopher Turner, "and you had your choice of activities."

Ganahl called the evening "not your standard Kennedy Center tongue bath, as much as we love you, Armistead," commencing a series of innuendo-laden compliments to the bestselling author of the Tales of the City series of novels.

Laura Linney and Armistead Maupin at the Litquake opener. Photo: Steven UnderhillEthel Merman (aka Mark Sargent) started the show off with a blasting rendition of Journey's "When the Lights Go Down in the City." Host Liam Mayclem (CBS 5's Eye on the Bay) kept the tone ribald and witty, noting how Maupin had "touched people everywhere, some in this room."

Amy Tan (Joy Luck Club), in traditional Asian garb, spoke wittily of her "closet," how Maupin asked, "Why are you trying so hard to be a character from your books?" helped her think of herself as more than "an Asian writer," and unleash inner aspects of her identity. Tan then ducked backstage and returned in a shiny, full-leather (or pleather?) dominatrix outfit. Tan unfortunately did not perform her rendition of "These Boots Were Made for Walking," but was seen showing off her riding crop at the post-show reception.

Former Real World: San Francisco stars Judd Winick (who wrote and drew the graphic novel Pedro and Me) and his wife Pamela Ling talked of the thrill of having Maupin speak at their wedding. They mentioned Maupin's "bear encounters" in Canada. "And if you think I'm talking about wildlife," Winick said, "you're definitely in the wrong room."

Slides of Maupin's own intimate nuptials with Turner, held in Vancouver, were shown. Winick and Ling also shared the story of how the two men met, via the website, which Turner owns.

San Francisco Symphony music director Michael Tilson Thomas (down the street conducting) and actor Robin Williams (who starred in the film adaptation of Maupin's The Night Listener) sent video messages of admiration. Williams referred to Maupin as the love child of Mark Twain and Truman Capote.

Musical tributes included Jon Ginoli of Pansy Division, who sang two songs, one about "Twenty Years of Cock." Stephanie Howard of Beach Blanket Babylon, with a trademark huge hat, this one made of Maupin's book covers, sang a restyled version of The Beatles' "Penny Lane" about "28 Barbary Lane," the home of Anna Madrigal and the Tales characters.

The sweet/sour lemon drops offered through intermission by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence tied in with the slide show that Father Guido Sarducci, aka writer Don Novello, shared about his beloved Reggio Calabria, and the maddening surplus of lemons. Somehow it worked.

Local author and reading hostess Michelle Tea read from a section of Tales about a women's music festival confrontation where DeDe and D'orothea's young son is banned from the campground. Suzie Bright admitted to being Maupin's "Santa Cruz connection" as she tossed out a few joints to the audience, then read Dorothy Parker's poem "Coda."

Possibly the most fascinating of readings wasn't from Tales, but a serialized novella Maupin penned for the long-defunct New West magazine. World of Normal Boys author K.M. Soehnlein read excerpts of a past-future fictional San Francisco of 1999 (written in 1980) where the US, under televangelist President Jim Bakker, has been taken over by fundamentalist Christians, gays herd in a tent city in Golden Gate Park, and amid an ensuing siege, the narrator, John F. Kennedy, Jr., finds his missing-in-action reclusive mother Jackie O. among militant lesbians and pink Chanel-wearing drag queens. We can only hope Maupin deigns to have this comic treasure republished.

In one of the more touching of tributes, Andrew Sean Greer (The Confessions of Max Tivoli), donning a mustache he'd grown for the occasion, told how a copy of Tales of the City, given as a gift from his boyfriend at 18 years old, included an inserted love note at the page where Michael "Mouse" Tolliver collides at a roller rink with Jon Fielding, the love of his life.

Actress Laura Linney, who starred as Mary Ann Singleton in the three mini-series adaptations of the first three Tales books, read from the fortuitous first chapter where Mary Ann meets Anna Madrigal. Linney also thanked Maupin, not only for providing one of her signature film characters, but for being a dear friend as well. "It is a friendship that I treasure beyond any other," said Linney. "I cannot imagine my life without our friendship. Thank you for your heart, your wit, your intelligence, and everything that you have given, not only to me and other actors, but also to the gay community and San Francisco. Thank you."

After accepting the first annual Barbary Coast Award, Maupin said candidly, "When people pay tribute to you, you're supposed to say that it's a humbling experience. Actually, it's not. I feel really quite pompous tonight!"

Maupin also offered kudos to another gay couple, author Christopher Isherwood and his surviving partner Don Bachardy, who was in attendance. "We really do have a genealogy."

In concluding his thanks, Maupin said, "I'm so grateful to this town that never runs out of stories, and to an audience that wants to hear about how everyone lives, and how we collide in our separate dreams."

Sunday, August 19, 2007

These Hills Still Talk to Him

Published: August 19, 2007

PEOPLE ask him how his city has changed over the years, and Armistead Maupin tells them it has not. One of the better-kept secrets of San Francisco is how little time has altered the place, at least in a superficial sense, since the days when Mr. Maupin arrived in the early 1970s, fresh from the Navy and looking for his future.

Yet in the decades since “Sure of You,” the last installment in Mr. Maupin’s best-selling “Tales of the City” series was published, waves of new immigrants have arrived, not necessarily looking to make fortunes so much as to spend them. The sexual frontier that once beckoned to adventurers as unalike as Gianni Versace and Michel Foucault has largely shifted to the cybersphere. Gay San Francisco, so vivid a presence in Mr. Maupin’s writing, now gives the appearance of having slumped into cozy middle-age.

And that, in some ways, is a good thing, or anyway a surprising one, as readers who have propelled Mr. Maupin’s latest book, “Michael Tolliver Lives,” toward the best-seller list have found. Ask him about San Francisco today, and Mr. Maupin will observe that the need for gay enclaves is less great than the need for gay retirement centers. Michael Tolliver, the charming naïf Mr. Maupin invented decades ago as a fictitious alter ego, was never expected to reach 55, his age at the beginning of the new novel. Yet there he is, slightly creaky but vital, thriving on “a fine tuned mélange” of the retroviral drugs Viramune and Combivir, kept sexually humming thanks to a little blue pill.

He has a partner, as does Mr. Maupin, many years his junior. He has a cozy business, as one might say Mr. Maupin does — considering that the “Tales of the City” franchise has spawned three miniseries and a passionate global readership. He drives a hybrid car, as does Mr. Maupin, a Toyota Prius with a bossy G.P.S. he calls Carlotta.

Carlotta was on mute the day Mr. Maupin conducted a visitor on a driving tour of gay San Francisco, starting at the house atop Parnassus Heights that he shares with Christopher Turner, whom he married last February in a small ceremony in Vancouver, British Columbia.

The Arts and Crafts cottage where Mr. Maupin lives is filled with books and artworks by gay eminences and friends like David Hockney and the artist Don Bachardy, whose late partner Christopher Isherwood was both a mentor and literary model for Mr. Maupin. There is an Ian McKellen doodle of Merlin offered as a houseguest’s thanks. There is a view from his office of the deep blue bay. The vista is probably less distracting, though, than a drawing above the writer’s desk of a recumbent bearded man in sexual congress with a lion.

Once the logo for a local gay bar, the drawing was a gift Mr. Maupin kept rolled up in a closet (“What if my parents came?” he said) until one day he decided on impulse to frame and hang it. As it happens, the day he drove the nail into the wall was the same one when he met his future husband, who looks eerily — make that precisely — like the man in the frame. This may not signify much, but it does help explain why Mr. Maupin has “nothing but good to report” of reaching the age where he is eligible for senior discounts.

The reasons are numerous, not the least of them that he has created such memorable characters as Anna Madrigal, the doyenne of the fictional Barbary Lane who is perhaps the first Buddha-wise, pot-smoking, transgender heroine in American literature. Madrigal is also alive as his new novel opens, superannuated and living in reduced quarters but tended to by a group of young transgender people who revere her.

The San Francisco that Mr. Maupin once knew and depicted may no longer be at the vanguard of social experimentation (a historical outline in one local guide gives equal importance to the Great Earthquake and to 1969, the year when “gays become predominant in the Tenderloin District, Folsom Street and the Castro.”) Still, more than most places, the city remains open to difference and what used to be known as “otherness,” a place that a substantial population of female-to-male transsexuals known as “transmen” call home. San Francisco may look staid, but it has always made room for both eccentricity and contradiction, Mr. Maupin suggested as he motored through North Beach, which is not, of course, a beach and Washington Square, which is not a square.

A statue there of Benjamin Franklin was erected in 1878 by a temperance-minded dentist presumably unaware that Franklin was “a lush,” as Mr. Maupin remarked. It was placed atop a time capsule dug up a century later and repositioned, this time above artifacts that included a record by the Hoodoo Rhythm Devils, a copy of “Tales of the City” and a bottle of sinful Beaujolais.

Close to there stands the Lyric Theater, where the renegade performance troupe the Cockettes first performed its drag extravaganza “Pearls Over Shanghai,” a wild success. Not too distant as the crow flies are the bathhouses where Mr. Maupin discovered the plural and democratic and antic nature of desire, and also bars like the first gay establishment he ever entered (the Cloud Nine, now repurposed and renamed the Tonic). “I felt I was striking a blow for freedom,” Mr. Maupin said of his various conquests in those days, rolling past the rooftop “pentshack” on Russian Hill where he took partners, who may have been nonplussed to see a photograph of the onetime campus conservative (and Vietnam veteran) shaking hands with Richard Nixon.

San Francisco radicalized Mr. Maupin, who masked his politics behind a disarmingly affable writing style. When he calls the Castro district — now a gift-shop ghetto — “Gayberry,” he does so with affection. After all, the mainstreaming of gayness is a process in which “Tales of the City” played its part.

Could anyone have anticipated that what began modestly as a newspaper serial would one day become an international franchise ? Could anyone, for that matter, have imagined that a John Waters movie starring a drag diva who ached to be a real movie star would one day turn up again as a box office hit, “Hairspray,” starring a real movie star who apparently loves being in drag?

The culture turned out to a lot more flexible than anyone ever thought, Mr. Maupin said. Attitudes and mores that 35 years ago seemed loopy, flaky or else “wacky, godless, treasonous,” as he recently wrote, have moved steadily, inexorably toward the center.

“It gives you some idea of how much time has passed,” Mr. Maupin said as we drove past a redwood tree planted as a sapling to commemorate the day in 1978 when Dan White, a disturbed bigot, assassinated Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to the Board of Supervisors, and George Moscone, the mayor. Things grow fast in this climate. Today that tree must stand 40 feet tall.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

WNYC Armistead Maupin Interview

Armisted Maupin Interview

WNYC The Brian Lehrer Show

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Maupin up for another award

Maupin up for another awardContra Costa Times

Contra Costa TimesArticle Launched:08/05/2007 03:04:47 AM PDT
Tickets go on sale Aug. 20 for a new kickoff event for Litquake, the annual literary fest-on-steroids in San Francisco that brings lovers of lit out in droves over a nine-day period and culminates in a high-spirited "Litcrawl" in pubs down Valencia Street to the Mission.

This year, Litquake introduces the Barbary Coast Award and plops it on the deserving head of San Francisco author Armistead Maupin, whose famed "Tales of the City" written between 1978 and 1989, were, so they say, responsible for "putting San Francisco on the modern day literary map."

Maupin's tales became the basis of the 1994 PBS series starring Olympia Dukakis as Anna Madrigal, mother hen to a brood of eccentric characters, some gay, some not, who lived on fictional Barbary Lane.

Maupin, whose latest novel "Michael Tolliver Lives" resurrects one of the characters from the series, will be on hand to receive his award at the Herbst Theatre event on Oct. 6 that will open the festival. Currently lined up to join him onstage are Amy Tan, Andrew Sean Greer, Michelle Tea, K.M. Soehnlein and Susie Bright, with other performers, musicians and guest stars to be announced. Tickets are $25 and will be available through City Box Office at 415-392-4400. More information will be posted at

VINO AND VERSE: Have you got poetry within? Can you get it out in 40 lines or less? If so, Livermore's poet laureate Connie Post invites you to belly up to the open mic at "Wine and Words," an ongoing poetry series at the Martinelli Event Center, 3585 Greenville Road in Livermore. The latest installment, catered by Garre Winery and Cafe, takes place from 2-4 p.m. Aug. 19. After scheduled presentations from featured readers Paul Hoover, author of 11 books of poetry including 2006's "Edge and Fold," and Jennifer Sweeney, whose "Salt Memory" came out in November, the podium is open to volunteer poets. Directions and a map at

ROMANCING THE ASPIRING WRITERS: It's high time to haul out the heaving bosoms and brawny bare chests, you would-be writers of romance novels. The Web site, working in tandem with Simon & Schuster, launched its First Chapters Romance Writing competition on Wednesday, and they're taking manuscripts through Aug. 22. She (or he) who emerges triumphant gets a guaranteed publishing contract with Pocket Books, an S&S imprint, and a $5,000 advance. So submit your steamy manuscript to by the deadline, then go online and watch what happens.

During round one, from Aug. 27-Sept. 18, postings of first chapters will go up on, and the Web site regulars will vote to select 25 semi-finalists. In round two, Sept. 24-Oct. 8, the winners' second chapters get posted, and five finalists will be chosen. In round three, which begins Oct. 11, the four members of the Grand Prize Judging Panel (Pocket Books editor Lauren McKenna and editorial director Maggie Crawford, CEO Tom Gerace and Borders romance buyer Sue Grimshaw) will select the winning novel, to be announced on Oct. 30.

PSSSST-- GOOD BOOKS, CHEAP! Every Saturday and Sunday through the end of August, the Lafayette Bookstore at 3569 Mt. Diablo Blvd. has 'em piled high on tables in the parking lot -- mass market paperbacks for 50 cents, trade paperbacks for a buck apiece and hardcovers for $2. Hours are 11 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Saturdays and noon to 5 p.m. Sundays.

Bookends appears every other Sunday. Sue Gilmore is the Times book editor. Reach her at 925-977-8482 or

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Teller of tales

Nearly 20 years after the last Tales of the City novel, Armistead Maupin revisits his much-loved characters in Michael Tolliver Lives. As Kelly Apter discovers, it’s no slight return

Don’t judge a book by its cover, we’re told. And yet, for fans of Tales of the City, the front of Armistead Maupin’s new book tells us everything we need to know. A blossoming flower, a bright yellow backing, and those three little words we all long to hear - Michael Tolliver Lives.

Since the release of Sure Of You in 1990, Maupin’s final book in the series, the fate of Michael Tolliver has been a mystery. Over the space of six novels, we had watched Michael grow up. From his hedonistic days dancing in jockey shorts at The Endup disco, to his role as homemaking nurseryman (of the plant variety), we were always on his side. So when Michael was diagnosed as HIV positive, Maupin’s readers prepared themselves to lose a dear friend. Only to be left dangling for 17 years.

Now, finally, Maupin has put us out of our misery. Michael Tolliver Lives catches up with the former residents of 28 Barbary Lane, and finds Michael alive and well. But while we may have fretted over Michael’s health, did Maupin always know the character was still going strong? ‘Yes I did,’ he says. ‘Because I have a lot of friends with HIV who are still alive, and I never assumed that Michael had died. That was always my answer when people would ask me during that period - hence the title.’

Charting the lives of several gay and straight residents of San Francisco, Tales of the City started life in 1976 as a newspaper serialisation. In novel form, the stories have sold millions worldwide, and been adapted into a Channel 4 mini-series. Having written Tales of the City, More Tales of the City, Further Tales of the City, Babycakes, Significant Others and Sure of You, however, Maupin felt the need for a change. Maybe the Moon and The Night Listener followed, as well as a number of screenplays. So why choose to write about Tolliver and co now?

‘Because I felt like it,’ says Maupin, laughing. ‘I know it’s hard not to sound like a petulant child when you answer that question, but that’s really what it was. I had explored other realms, and I was ready to visit those characters again.’ But Michael was only one of a number of key characters in Maupin’s series - why choose him rather than Mary Ann, Mona, Brian, Mrs Madrigal or any of the other, peripheral figures?

‘I wanted to write a novel about an ageing gay man living in the Castro district of San Francisco,’ explains Maupin. ‘And it struck me that Michael would be the perfect person to tell that story. Initially I didn’t intend to bring in the other characters, and I was quite adamant about that. But they began to audition and keep me awake at night with their demands. So I let them in one by one.’

Unlike the preceding six books, which jump from one character to another, Michael Tolliver Lives is written solely in first person. Given the change in format, Maupin stated early on that this latest book was not the seventh book in the series, but a stand-alone novel. This was a suggestion which puzzled all who read it.

‘That’s the problem with Google - you say something once and then you see it reprinted 400 times,’ says Maupin. ‘I’ve gotten into a lot of trouble about that comment, because everyone tells me that in fact it is a continuation of the story, even if the format is different.’ One slight difference, however, is the pace.

At the start, Maupin had to hook readers and bring them back to the San Francisco Chronicle each day. So heartstopping moments and jaw-dropping cliffhangers abounded. Not only that, but Michael, Brian, Mary Ann et al were all young devotees of the San Francisco lifestyle, burning bright in the fast lane.

When we join Michael this time, he’s a 55-year-old gardener with a husband. And while the book still throws dramatic curve balls at you, and some fantastically dirty sex, there’s a more relaxed tone throughout.

Was it the absence of serialisation or Michael’s advanced years that caused that? ‘It was probably a little of both,’ suggests Maupin. ‘I certainly didn’t feel the need to bring readers back day after day. But I think it’s also my instinct to want to build a certain amount of suspense into anything I write.’

Throughout the Tales of the City series, comparisons have often been made between Maupin and Michael. But now, they seem more prevalent than ever. At the age of 63, Maupin recently married his 35-year-old partner, Christopher, while Michael has done likewise with Ben, a man 21 years his junior. Similarly, Maupin’s observations about the changing face of San Francisco are voiced through Michael.

‘I plundered about the same amount of my life to create him as in the other books,’ says Maupin. ‘But the whole process of writing fiction is basically channelling characters through your own experience. Yes, there are elements of Michael that are very close to me. But I don’t consider myself to be him or him to be me. He’s a little bit me, a little bit who I’d like to be and a little bit who I’d like to sleep with.’

Aside from all the inherent humour and snapshots of San Franciscan life, Michael Tolliver Lives also has a heart. Despite claiming otherwise, Michael’s deep desire for his mother’s approval is hugely touching. And one particular moment towards the end of the novel will cause many readers to shed a few tears.

‘There was a parallel in my own life. I brought Christopher home to meet my father, who was just months away from death. And my father could not have been more generous or loving to Christopher. When we were leaving the house, he had a few words with him alone and said “you take care of that boy” - meaning the 63-year-old you’re talking to now.’

Having re-submerged yourself in the lives of these complex, vulnerable, funny and hugely likeable characters, it’s hard to let them go again. Thankfully, we don’t have to.

‘I’ve just contracted to do another book about Michael,’ says Maupin. ‘And one of the other major characters will make a much longer appearance in the next one. So it’s not the end.’

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Memoir as fiction

Memoir as fiction

July 8, 2007

..dropstart-->Gore Vidal did it. Edmund White did it. Augusten Burroughs made a career doing it. But Armistead Maupin is one gay literary titan who will never do it: Write his memoirs, that is...dropend-->

"All memoirs are selective memory," Maupin declares, bringing to mind a concept from his 2000 novel The Night Listener called "jewelling the elephant" -- or tweaking the bare facts so that a greater truth is revealed. "I come closer to the truth by pretending I'm not telling it."

With his silver hair and warm smile, the 63-year-old author resembles a less rotund, Southern Santa Claus. And he has the same air of good-natured benevolence, like someone who, at any moment, might surprise you with a special gift.

For his legion of fans, gay and straight, that's what he's been doing all along.

Maupin burst onto the literary scene with Tales of the City, which began as a column in the San Francisco Chronicle in 1976. Long before Bridget Jones click-clacked her way through the pages of the London Independent (with the help of Helen Fielding), Maupin chronicled single life in the big city with his quirky cast of characters.

There was Mrs. Madrigal, the irrepressible landlady who taped joints to her tenants' doors; Brian Hawkins, who quit the law to wait tables and have as much sex as possible; and Mary Ann Singleton, the Cleveland transplant so naïve she thought an offer of "coke" meant someone wanted to give her a soft drink.

But most memorably, there was Michael "Mouse" Tolliver, the joker of the group, but also the glue who seemed to hold them all together. By 1989's Sure of You -- the sixth and, until now, final book in the series -- it was pretty clear that Tolliver was occasionally a stand-in for Maupin himself.

Each came from a conservative Southern family. (Maupin even worked for the notoriously homophobic Jesse Helms.) Each felt happiest in his adopted homeland of San Francisco. And in some cases -- such as "Letter to Mama," the heart-wrenching chapter in 1980's More Tales of the City in which Michael comes out to his fundamentalist parents -- it seemed as if Maupin were working out his personal demons right on the page.

Indeed, the closest he may ever come to an autobiography is his latest novel, Michael Tolliver Lives. The title character, like Maupin, is an introspective gay San Franciscan who first spies his decades-younger husband on the Internet. In the book, the Web site goes unnamed; in real life, Maupin's husband, Christopher Turner, runs the matchmaking site

If Tolliver is, arguably, Maupin's most personal novel, it's also one of his angriest -- though he didn't mean to step on any soapboxes. The references to Terri Schiavo, Guantánamo Bay and the war in Iraq were simply a storyteller's attempt to capture what one character refers to as "this cold new [political] climate." Maupin's taking his time to decide which presidential candidate has "balls." (Though this may sound like an indirect dig at Mrs. Clinton, it isn't.) But in the meantime, the Vietnam veteran has a few choice words for George W. Bush -- who, he says, is "making all the same excuses" he heard when he was in combat.

"They're taking young men and women with noble intentions and making them fight for Bush and his family," Maupin says with disgust. He began writing Michael Tolliver Lives, he says, before the public reached a "widespread consensus" that the war was a mistake. Happily, by the time it was published, most of the country had caught up with "those wacky San Franciscans."

These days, when Maupin is working on a project, he writes from 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. -- though, he adds with a self-deprecating chuckle, "There are very few circumstances under which I like to write." The time between novels has been filled with movie projects, such as the unproduced screenplay for the fourth "Tales" novel, 1983's Babycakes, co-written with Maupin's former partner, Terry Anderson. (Maupin declines to say whether the two are still in touch.)

"Babycakes," the movie, was shelved indefinitely when the cable channel Showtime, which aired the miniseries of "More Tales" and "Further Tales," "went out of the movie-making business" to focus on new shows such as "Weeds." It was exactly the right time for Maupin's work to transition from the small to the big screen. Director Patrick Stettner cast Robin Williams as a very Maupinesque writer in 2006's "The Night Listener," which the author proudly refers to as a "creepy little bloodless thriller."

But if Maupin now tops the bestseller lists and hob-knobs with the Hollywood elite, a few things, at least, have stayed the same. On a productive day, he churns out two pages -- about the length of one of his old Tales columns for the Chronicle. And he still mines his personal life for details, whether writing about Michael Tolliver, The Night Listener's Gabriel Noone, or Cady Roth from 1992's Maybe the Moon ("my most underrated novel").

"I have, in essence, been writing my memoirs," Maupin concedes. "But I've been doing it through my characters."

Matt Zakosek, a Chicago free-lance writer, has never been the same since reading Tales at age 12.


By Armistead Maupin
HarperCollins, 288 pages, $25.95.. Armistead Maupin

Sunday, July 1, 2007

"Mad, Stark Mad"

Mad, Stark Mad"
Thirty-five years after "defecting" to the Barbary Coast, the bestselling novelist still loves his city by the bay

By Armistead Maupin
Smithsonian magazine, July 2007

A recent episode of "South Park," the animated show on Comedy Central, was devoted to the notion that hybrid-driving liberals in San Francisco had caused a toxic "cloud of smug" to form over the city, threatening the entire nation.

That's closer to the truth than I'd like to admit.

We San Franciscans can be a little smug sometimes, a little too patriotic about our beloved city-state. But, frankly, it's hard not to feel that way when you've lived here for any time at all. This place is special—a patchwork of villages huddled on seven hills above the bluest of bays. We've got wild parrots in our trees and mom-and-pop stores on the corner and world-class olive oil down at the Ferry Building. These days we've got an elegant new museum in the park and a tree-lined boulevard where an ugly freeway offramp used to be. We've got that strapping young mayor too—who became even more irresistible to the ladies when he married some gay folks down at City Hall. Hell, we've even got the woman who is leading the House of Representatives now—the first woman to do so—and though she's cleverly disguised as a Catholic grandmother at a country club, she's our kind of gal.

And we've been right about things. Sorry, but it has to be said: we've been right about things for a very long time. Wacky, godless, treasonous San Francisco, standing alone in its madness, spoke out about global warming and the war in Iraq and George W. Bush long before the rest of America finally woke up to the truth. So those dreaded "San Francisco values"—tolerance, compassion and peace—aren't sounding quite so flaky in a country disillusioned by Abu Ghraib and Hurricane Katrina.

Don't get me wrong. We're no wiser than the rest of America—just a lot freer. We can think our foolish thoughts and chase our foolish schemes without hindrance from church or state or the neighbors down the block. We are free to transgress—politically, artistically, sexually and spiritually—and we believe that a great deal of good has emerged from that. That's why, in the end, we don't really care what the rest of America thinks of us. We've been immune to those taunts since 1849, when the New York Post described the citizens of San Francisco as "mad, stark mad."

There was justification, mind you. The crazed fortune hunters who created this place left their ships to rot in the harbor on their way to the gold in the hills. That's how certain they were that they would never return to their homes in the East. Their ships, what's more, were dragged out of the water and into the muddy streets, where they found brash new lives as hotels and jailhouses—weird Dr. Seussian hybrids of vessel and building that stood for years as proof there was No Going Back. The past, having outlived its usefulness, had been carpentered into the future.

A century and a half later—despite earthquakes, epidemics and dot-com disasters—people still chase their dreams to San Francisco. They don't so much move to the city as defect to it, warmed by the glow of their burning bridges. Like the heroine of my Tales of the City novels, newcomers have been known to take this leap overnight, enduring high rents, low pay and joblessness in the hope of becoming someone else.

It's not that we don't revere tradition: we do, deeply. But ours is a tradition of eccentricity and earthly pleasures and a healthy disrespect for the powers that be. And most of us, I've found, love reciting the lore of our rebellious history. When visitors arrive from elsewhere, I myself can be every bit as garrulous as a docent in an antebellum mansion in Georgia. Here, for instance, are some of the things I enjoy telling them:

* That Mary Ellen Pleasant, a former slave who settled here after the Civil War, secured the right of black people to ride the trolleys in San Francisco almost a century before Rosa Parks refused to sit in the back of that bus in Alabama.

* That Mark Twain, while steaming in a Turkish bath on the site of the current Transamerica Pyramid, struck up a friendship with a local fireman whose homespun-sounding name—Tom Sawyer—would later prove useful to the storyteller.

* That Billie Holiday was busted for drugs in a room at the Mark Twain Hotel.

* That the ashes of gunfighter Wyatt Earp were buried in a Jewish cemetery south of San Francisco so that his beloved widow could later be interred with him.

* That Jack Kerouac wandered away from Neal Cassady's cottage on Russian Hill to stumble upon Joan Crawford, larger than life in pumps and a fur, shooting Sudden Fear in the fog.

* That the Twin Peaks bar at Castro and Market was the first gay bar in America to have windows on the street, making the patrons visible to the general public.

* That Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe, like Rosie and Kelli O'Donnell, were married at San Francisco City Hall.

* That Jeanne Bonnet, a swashbuckling lass who frequented the brothels of the Barbary Coast dressed as a man, later convinced some of the prostitutes to flee their pimps and join her own all-girl band of pickpockets.

* That the Lusty Lady, a modern-day Barbary Coast establishment on Kearny Street, struck its own blow against the exploitation of women when, in 2003, it became the first worker-owned peep show in the nation.

* That in 1927 a fresh-faced young Mormon named Philo T. Farnsworth transmitted the world's first television image in a laboratory at the foot of Telegraph Hill.

* That the brain of Ishi, the last "wild" Native American and a one-time San Francisco celebrity, was returned to California in 2000 after spending almost a century in a Smithsonian Institution warehouse in Maryland.

* That among the words San Francisco has given the dictionary are beatnik, yuppie, hippie, hoodlum and shanghaied.

I was none of those things when I arrived in San Francisco in 1972 to work for the Associated Press. Fresh out of the South and a tour of duty in Vietnam, I was seriously conservative and frightened to death of almost everything, especially my own homosexuality. (It was, after all, still officially a mental illness, not to mention a crime.) But when I worked up the nerve to confess my "condition" to a new friend—a young married woman with children—she stared at me soulfully, took both my hands in hers and murmured a dewy-eyed "big f------ deal." I could hardly believe my ears. Like the city itself, she was telling me to lighten up and get on with the business of my life.

That proved to be my born-again moment, the watershed from which I date my transformation. In San Francisco I found love the way I'd always wanted it. I found friends of every imaginable variety. I found my creativity and a generous audience and a seemingly endless supply of stories to tell. After too many years of searching, I found, in other words, the age-old American promise of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

So I dragged my ship out of the harbor and made it my home for good.

Armistead Maupin's novel Michael Tolliver Lives was published in June.

Monday, June 25, 2007

The long tale

The long tale
Writer Armistead Maupin reunites his fictional family
By Lauren Mechling
June 25, 2007

Long before Sex and the City and the concomitant vogue of the apple martini, there was another juicy newspaper column-turned-book-turned-blockbuster television series: Tales of the City, Armistead Maupin’s saga about life in San Francisco. In lieu of Carrie Bradshaw, readers rooted for Connie Bradshaw, a freewheeling stewardess (this being the ’70s, there was no such thing as a “flight attendant”).

Connie was lucky enough to live in a rambling boarding house at 28 Barbary Lane, where the residents included 25-year-old Cleveland escapee Mary Ann Singleton, beturbaned pot-smoking landlady Anna Madrigal and the angelic Michael (Mouse) Tolliver — Maupin’s fictional alter ego — who made sure to take time from his busy schedule at the gay bathhouses and dance contests to cheer up the girls’ lives.

Tales started out as a detour. In 1974, Maupin was working as a reporter for the city edition of the Pacific Sun, a small weekly newspaper in Marin County, Calif. One day he set out to write a feature about the Wednesday night pickup scene at the local supermarket, but persuading shoppers to go on record about their true intentions proved impossible. “I was just forced into fiction because I couldn’t find anybody at the Marina Safeway who would admit that they were there to get laid,” says Maupin, a tall 63-year-old, whose impeccable posture and attentive manner hint at his former life as a naval officer in Vietnam. “So I went home and made up this fictional new girl in town and created a situation where she picks up a guy only to discover he’s gay.”

Maupin ended up handing his editors a story about Mary Ann Singleton’s mistake, and went on to write five more pieces chronicling Mary Ann’s escapades before the paper folded. He showed his clips to an editor at the San Francisco Chronicle, who hired him two years later to continue the experiment as a daily serial.

Though the stories were jammed with all manner of promiscuity and naughtiness, they inevitably circled back to the cozy message that family can be found anywhere. When Mouse’s parents come in from Orlando only to hector him about all the roller-skating nuns and “fruits” to be found in the city, our hero caps off the day with a visit to his landlady, who has also had a trying day. The instalment ends with the couple sitting closely on the couch, their eyes tearing up over a shared doobie.

Maupin’s writing appealed to trannies and grannies alike, and le tout San Francisco was instantly hooked on the series. “It was a kind of mini-stardom,” he recalls of the days when everyone was atwitter about the latest Tales column. “Everywhere I went people wanted to audition for the story. They would tell me tales of their lives in hopes that they would show up in print. Usually the ones that showed up in print were the ones they didn’t want in there.”

What had started out as an in-joke for San Francisco swiftly blossomed into a cultural juggernaut. Ultimately the columns were collected into six bestselling books that were translated into 10 languages. Legions of fans found a family in the Barbary Lane gang, and for the next 12 years, Maupin churned out fresh instalments. “During those first two years it was especially gruelling,” he says. “I would show up for work and have no idea what I was going to write for the next day’s paper.” And yet, he managed to produce 850 words a day. After the columns were reworked as books, the first three of them were adapted into a hit television series for PBS and, later, Showtime, that starred Olympia Dukakis, Laura Linney and featured a smattering of Canadian actors including Paul Gross and Sandra Oh.

Like Sheherazade spinning out the 1001 Arabian Nights, Maupin wouldn’t quit. The skein of relationships and coincidences grew increasingly twisted. And then, in 1989, it all came to a crashing halt. “I suppose I was feeling the hot breath of AIDS,” he says. “And because I had established Michael as HIV positive. I was pretty sure he was going to die and I really didn’t want to go over that territory.” The final book in the series, Sure of You, ended with the characters drawing together to make the necessary preparations for Michael’s death.

But the sun didn’t set on Barbary Lane for good. After a nearly two-decade hiatus — in which Maupin put out two unrelated novels, Maybe the Moon and The Night Listener — Maupin has decided to check in on his old friends. In his new book, Michael Tolliver Lives, we learn that, thanks to protease inhibitors, Michael, now 55, has survived. No worse for wear other than deeper crow’s feet and a slight paunch, he is now living in the Castro district and is impossibly happy — he runs his own gardening company and has married Ben, a gorgeous 33-year-old furniture designer he first espied on a “daddy hunter” website.

“I think falling in love had a lot to do with my decision to write this book,” Maupin explains. Three years ago he met Christopher Turner, 35, after viewing his profile on a website, and the two were married in Vancouver earlier this year. “It brought new light into my life and I felt like Michael again. I thought I owed him the same joy that I felt.”

Like its slightly arthritic protagonist, Michael Tolliver Lives moves along at a slower pace than Maupin’s fans have come to expect. The latest instalment shares the humour and brisk unshowiness that has come to distinguish Maupin’s voice, but light and funny as it is, it is less reliant on dialogue, and more reflective. There is also more sex. “Michael has changed much in the ways that I have,” Maupin admits. “He’s more contemplative, he’s more domestic, he’s more mellowed.”

Told in first person, there is none of the juggling of 10 wild storylines (secret love children, sex changes) that came to be the trademark of the Tales series. Instead, we are presented with an eminently likeable 55-year-old who had once thought he’d beat everybody else to the grave. “After 30 years in the city,” our narrator considers in one of the book’s first pages, “it’s nice to be reminded that I’m still glad to be here, still glad to belong to this sweet confederacy of survivors, where men meet in front of the hardware store and talk of love and death and circle jerks as if they’re discussing the weather.”

Michael’s world is shaken when his born-again brother Irwin calls him from Orlando to tell him that their mother is dying. Michael and Ben pack up and head down to the red state to visit “the biologicals,” as Michael calls his Bible-thumping relatives. The term “family” is reserved for another set. The tug of war between “biologicals” (the family we are born into) and “logicals” (the family we make of our friends and lovers) has been a long-standing theme in Maupin’s stories, but never more than in this book. Maupin concedes this, too, stems from real life. “My father died a couple years ago. I took Christopher back [to North Carolina] to meet him. He was very polite, but there still wasn’t the intimacy that I had hoped for. I became aware that all these years my hope was futile that my father would understand who I was.”

The Tales series was deeply intoxicated with its own time; hardly a page went by without mention of a pet rock or Zen retreat. Maupin’s love of yoking his stories to a specific period lives on, though the timely references in Michael Tolliver Lives — Bible puppets, Terri Schiavo, more mentions of George W. Bush than I’d care to count — seem less like funny embellishments than a way to criticize the direction America has been taking. “Michael,” Maupin says, “like me, has become more political. The times call for it. As far as I’m concerned, we’re living in a divided nation. I saw a perfect way to represent that by sending Michael home to his family in Florida.”

Once he wraps up his six-week-long book tour, Maupin plans to get started with his next Tales novel, for which he just signed a contract. He still doesn’t know what the plot will be or whose perspective he will tell it from, but he trusts his fans will welcome it in whatever form it ends up. “They come away [from the Tales series] with a sense that they can form their own family out of friends and lovers,” he says. “It offers you freedom and security in the same package. And having an all-forgiving transgendered landlady doesn’t hurt, either.”

Sunday, June 24, 2007

NY Times Book Review

NY Times Book Review

June 24, 2007

Still More Tales of the City



By Armistead Maupin.

277 pp. HarperCollins Publishers. $25.95.

Armistead Maupin's enormously popular "Tales of the City" series, published between 1978 and 1989, told the story of a disparate group of San Franciscans brought together under the roof of Anna Madrigal, a transsexual lady of a certain age who ran a boarding house on a street called Barbary Lane while growing marijuana on the side. Reviving a 19th-century tradition, Maupin wrote the Tales in the form of a serial, with installments appearing daily in The San Francisco Chronicle. After "Sure of You" came out in 1989, Maupin declared that the series was finished, and went on to write two other novels. He changed his mind, however, and now he brings us "Michael Tolliver Lives," a sort of coda to the Tales, in which he catches us up on the many characters who populate the earlier books — and in particular on Mike Tolliver himself.

As the first chapter opens, it is 2006, and Mike, at 55, is surprised to be alive. Twenty years ago he was certain that he would die of AIDS; now, much to his own bewilderment, he's thriving, thanks to "a fine-tuned mélange of Viramune and Combivir." Life is good for Mike: he owns his own house, runs a successful business as a gardener and landscape architect, and was recently married to Ben, who is handsome, charming and 21 years his junior.

And yet, let's not forget that we're in Armistead Maupin's San Francisco. Thus Mike's burly assistant, a self-proclaimed "bear cub" named Jake Greenleaf, turns out to be a female-to-male transsexual with whom Mike once had a gender-bending one-night stand. Mike found Ben, on the Internet, on a site devoted to older men and their admirers, on which Ben identified himself as CLEANCUTLAD4U. And their wedding was part of the communal ceremony that took place at San Francisco City Hall after the city declared marriage between same-sex couples legal, with Mayor Gavin Newsom presiding, "so young and handsome and ... neat ... that he actually looked like the man on top of a wedding cake."

As for Anna Madrigal — the doyenne of Barbary Lane, played so memorably by Olympia Dukakis in the PBS adaptation of the series — she's now 85, and has moved from her boarding house to a small apartment where she watches lovingly over the three young "trannies" upstairs. Along with Mike, she's trying to keep an eye on Shawna, the daughter of Mike's straight best friend, Brian. Shawna has grown up into a sort of Outward Bound explorer of the erotic wilderness, whose adventurings — recounted on a widely read blog — include a stint working at "the Lusty Lady, a peep show in North Beach that recently became the nation's first worker-owned strip club." Even the domestic bliss that Mike shares with Ben is distinctly San Franciscan in flavor, with Ben casually giving his older husband testosterone injections and the couple negotiating just how open they want their marriage to be. ("You're too young to be monogamous," Mike tells Ben. "And I'm too old.")

Such, though, is life in the city that Mike's Orlando-based relatives call "Sodom by the Bay" — a life whose audaciously self-conscious particularity Mike finds alternately delightful and exasperating. Reflecting on a restaurant menu's description of ingredients as "artisanal" rather than "homemade," he observes: "Sometimes Northern California just wears me ... down, and I get fed up with our precious patois, our fetishizing of almost everything." It's as if, for Maupin as much as for Mike, a certain malaise has settled in; as if "the City" they love so well, with its population of latex fetishists, foot worshipers and people who like to have sex in clown costumes, has started to seem even to them a little too, well, cute.

Like its predecessors, Michael Tolliver Lives" is a novel only in the loosest sense of the term. The chapters are independent yet interdependent, flowing into one another gracefully while remaining very much singular entities. If there's a plot, it's a casually constructed one, culminating in the simultaneous collapses of two very different women: Mike's "biological" mother, dying in a nursing home in Florida, and his "logical" mother, Anna, hospitalized in San Francisco after a heart attack. The choice of which bedside to run to — of which mother is the real mother — provides some dramatic tension, if only in the final pages.

The most interesting part of "Michael Tolliver Lives" is probably the sequence of chapters that takes Mike and Ben to visit Mike's family in Orlando. It's here that Maupin catches his stride as a writer, displaying in great furls of prose both his instinct for comedy and his linguistic verve. He gets Central Florida spot-on: the McMansion in which Mike's sister-in-law, Lenore, enlists his

proto-gay great-nephew, Sumter, in constructing puppets for her Christian puppet theater; the Gospel Palms nursing home, in which Mike's dying mother strikes up a friendship with her black hairdresser (with whom Mike and Ben later have a three-way); the gay B&B owned by "a pair of retired Italian queens from Queens" who each night leave an orchid floating in the toilet bowl.

All this is rendered with balance, good humor and compassion. And indeed, if I have a complaint about "Michael Tolliver Lives," it may be that for all the pleasure it takes in its own transgressiveness, it comes off as a little too nice. For example, what in the '70s we called "four-letter words" pepper the novel, yet they're almost always used as terms of endearment. No conflict lasts for more than a few sentences, every flare-up is becalmed by sweetness, and though all the characters are interesting, none are difficult. I once heard the British actress Mollie Sugden observe in an interview that there could be no comedy without threat. Yet for all Maupin's ponderous references to George W. Bush, Enron, Abu Ghraib and AIDS, threat is oddly remote from the landscape of "Michael Tolliver Lives." On the contrary, the characters live in a landscape more distinctive for its buffered gentleness than its dangers.

Despite this, the book is great fun to read. Maupin is a master at sustained and sustaining comic turns. Of these, my favorite is probably the story of Carlotta. Carlotta, to be precise, is the name Mike and Ben have given to the voice in which their Toyota Prius's navigation system gives them directions: "female, elegant and a little bossy." On a trip through the Southwest, Ben, noticing a chill in the air, tells Carlotta, "Seventy-two degrees." She answers that "there is no fifth destination." Realizing Carlotta must have misunderstood him, Ben asks: "If that's the answer, what's the question?"

Unfortunately, like so much else in this novel, Maupin domesticates this moment of spectral strangeness, much as the city he loves and loathes domesticates the perverseness in which it also takes such pride. "From that moment on," Mike tells us, " 'There is no fifth destination' became our all-purpose pronouncement. ... It became our way of saying 'big deal' or 'who the hell knows?' or 'lighten up, for God's sake, you won't get out of this alive.' "

All very nice. And yet I couldn't help wondering: What would Nabokov have done with Carlotta?

David Leavitt's novel "The Indian Clerk" will be published this fall.

Doesn't Ask, Doesn't Tell

The New York Times
Originally Published June 24, 2007

Published: June 24, 2007

SOME mementos are more momentous than others.

In 1971, when Armistead Maupin was driving from his old post, working for The Associated Press in Charleston, S.C., to a new post in San Francisco, he stopped in Iowa to visit a friend from the Navy. Both had recently returned from Vietnam. That night a call came from the White House.

President Nixon was looking for the two men to be part of a campaign his administration was putting together to counter the antiwar protests of a veteran named John Kerry. The men would be part of a team of veterans who would voluntarily go back to Vietnam and rebuild villages — and be photographed cheerily doing so.

“Never mind that none of us could build anything,” Mr. Maupin recalled earlier this month. He was in New York to promote “Michael Tolliver Lives,” the latest of his “Tales of the City” books, the first in nearly 20 years.

For his participation, Mr. Maupin met President Nixon and was photographed shaking his hand. For years after he came out as a gay man in the liberal world of ’70s San Francisco, he was proud of this souvenir. “I would bring guys back to my penthouse shack, and they would see the picture, and all the blood would rush out of their face,” he said.

The picture was finally mothballed. But Mr. Maupin does have a souvenir of his tour of duty in Vietnam, one that stands on his bookshelf in San Francisco to this day. As an assistant protocol officer in Saigon in 1969, his first post in Vietnam, one of his duties was squiring around the wives of visiting dignitaries and officers. While taking Mouza Zumwalt, the wife of Adm. Elmo R. Zumwalt Jr., to the city’s antiques shops, he came across a 10-inch-tall brass dragon and fell in love with it. “I remember thinking, this would be the perfect little mascot for me,” Mr. Maupin said.

It went along with him to a radio post at Chau Doc, on the Cambodian border. “I thought if I got sent somewhere more dangerous, my father would be more proud of me,” he said.

“I fell asleep many nights at the radio with that dragon sitting in front of me — only to be awakened in the morning by Adrian Cronauer, whose voice I got to know very well,” he added, referring to the irreverent disc jockey memorably portrayed in 1987 in the film “Good Morning, Vietnam.”

Mr. Maupin’s own Navy experiences were not so worthy of chronicle. He found much more material for his stories in the burgeoning sexuality and changing mores of ’70s and ’80s California. And luckily, the dragon, which has a Mae Westian quality, sinuously standing with one flipper on a swiveling hip, has weathered every curve. Somewhat like its mortal relative, the chameleon, it managed to change from an exotic memento of war to an emblem of free-spirited Tao-quoting West Coasters.

“I like how it looks, how it stands,” he said. “It’s sort of whimsical yet rugged.”

It is also a fitting revisionist mascot for someone who had come to take pride in being gay, a preference rejected in the Armed Forces: in Eastern philosophy the dragon is celebrated as a creative force for good (the yang in the yin-yang), while in Western myth its notoriety as a cranky, flame-breathing, maiden-stealing creature is distinctly less auspicious. You’d be cranky, too.

Now, he said, “It’s a nice reminder of what a journey it’s been, and of how far I’ve come.”

As vociferous in his critique of the Iraq war and of military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy as he once was supportive of Vietnam, Mr. Maupin nimbly demonstrates that it is not whether you flip that counts, but whether you come down on the right side.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Cover to Cover with Richard Wolinsky - June 21, 2007

Cover to Cover with Richard Wolinsky - June 21, 2007 at 3:00pm

Click to listen (or download)

Sunday, June 17, 2007

FIVE QUESTIONS For Christopher Turner

Daddy-hunt site entrepreneur knows of which he posts
Justin Berton, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, June 17, 2007

Shortly after Christopher Turner started his Web site in 2002, a hot older male approached him while walking on 18th Street in the Castro district. The man said he recognized Turner from his online profile; he'd even printed out a photograph of the Internet entrepreneur.

"Apparently he didn't post his picture because he was too darn shy about the whole thing," Turner, 35, recalled.

The admirer was novelist and screenwriter Armistead Maupin, Turner's senior by 27 years. The two got to talking and have been a couple ever since. In February, they married.

Turner started his second site,, a personals service that pairs men older than 40 with younger guys, because he knew there was a market for "intergenerational relationships." ( caters to those with more hard-core tastes.) Four years after its founding, the site hosts 100,000 members and draws 35,000 visitors per day, according to Google Stats.

This week is a big one in the Turner-Maupin household. unfurled billboard advertising in San Francisco, featuring shirtless young men being pawed by older hands, and Maupin is releasing his seventh installment of his "Tales of the City" book series, "Michael Tolliver Lives," which, it so happens, revolves around an older man who meets a young Web site owner.

Q: The new advertising campaign that's popping up around town -- why now?

A: We're at a place where we're happy with the site, and I just decided to spend some money on local advertising. There's already a large number of users in San Francisco, and I wanted to see if we could build a larger community here.

Q: You said that in younger-older relationships, most people from the outside think one person is using the other. What is the dynamic that people don't see?

A: I think when people see a young man with an older guy, they think, "Sugar Daddy." And I guess the same goes for straight relationships. But one thing people don't see is that a lot of people have a serious attraction to older men -- whether it's physical, emotional, intellectual -- and feel more comfortable in relationships with older men. I launched the site as sort of a political statement: You can have a loving relationship despite an age difference ... I think the Greeks understood it well, and so did the gay community. Back in the '70s, the gay community featured older, hairy guys in gay porn all the time. During the AIDS crisis, everything we saw, in advertising and porn, suddenly became young and clean.

Q: We all get older. As you age, do you wonder if you'll continue to seek out older males, or will a role reversal take place?

A: I don't know. Attraction is hard to understand. My current attraction toward older men has been around since I can remember, but I imagine that could change. I'm really not sure. That's always the issue with an age difference. With Armistead, he's 27 years my senior and, you know, he'll likely die before me. So there's the big issue of any age-difference relationship. But who knows? It's hard to say where my attractions will be in 20, 30 years.

Q: Had you read Armistead's books before he approached you on the street?

A: I hadn't. But I was living in London when the series was released on television, and it was a really huge thing in England. I couldn't wait for the next episode. ... I had been to San Francisco once before, and about six months later (after watching the series) I moved here. So, I feel like one of the reasons I moved here was because of his work; it reminded me of how great San Francisco is. That was 10 years before we met.

Q: In the book, did you read any parts and say, "Hey, that's me, that's us?"

A: Definitely. There are parts there that are based on us. Michael Tolliver, in some ways, is like Armistead. But in many ways he's not. Same goes for Ben, the younger man. Some of the dynamics are similar to our relationship, sure. But I don't want to say which ones, for the record.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Armistead Maupin Entertainment Weekly

June 15, 2007

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Silvering bard by the bay

Friday, June 15, 2007
By Josh Getlin
June 15, 2007 in print edition A-1

IT started out as a gag, a literary riff on aging gays and lesbians who flock to retirement homes built just for them. Armistead Maupin toyed with the idea when he began writing “Tales of the City” back in the 1970s, and his imagination ran wild: No one would be allowed to wear golf clothes; Broadway sing-alongs were mandatory. With the right accessories, you could be 50 and fabulous.

Thirty years later, those punch lines are giving way to plumb lines. And the dream that Maupin wrote about – a nurturing seniors community in the Bay Area for people of all sexual persuasions – is becoming a reality. This fall, the Barbary Lane Communities for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender seniors will open on Lake Merritt in Oakland. The fully renovated Art Deco building, taking its name from Maupin’s fictional community set in San Francisco’s Russian Hill, will offer 46 units renting for $3,295 to $4,295 per month. It is one of the first urban retirement communities catering to such a middle-income clientele – and the only one known to draw its name from a series of bestselling books.

“I think I’d want to move in,” said Maupin, 63, only half seriously. With nearly 4 million copies of his novels in print – and a new book, “Michael Tolliver Lives,” just out – he can easily afford to grow old in his rustic Parnassus Heights home, high above San Francisco Bay. The handsome man with silver hair and a thick gray mustache is one of America’s most successful, openly gay authors.

But at this stage of his life, Maupin is also haunted by questions of death, aging and community: How will other, less affluent gay and lesbian seniors find safe harbor in a culture that remains hostile to them? When they look for senior housing, will they be forced back into the closet they fled years ago? A growing awareness of these problems persuaded Maupin to give his blessing to backers of Barbary Lane Communities when they asked him two years ago for permission to use the name. And those same concerns color his new novel, which follows six previous installments of “Tales of the City.”

In “Michael Tolliver Lives,” the gay and straight characters who once crowded into the baths South of Market or gathered for “singles nights” at the Marina Safeway are now deep into their 50s. They’ve survived the scourge of AIDS but are frightened by the first rumblings of mortality. Although they talk a good game about sex, food and pop culture, their youth has vanished, like a cloud of fine Colombian.

“I’ve always written about the moment,” said Maupin, whose career took off in 1976, when his pioneering daily serial about sexually liberated men and women began appearing in the San Francisco Chronicle. “And it was clear that, just as I have taken people on a guided tour of my hedonistic youth, I would have to do the same thing now with my contented seniority

If early critical buzz is any indication, Maupin’s new novel may once again reach a large audience. He is a brand name in a gay literary market that is growing but still struggling for mainstream success. Laura Miller, Salon’s fiction editor, wrote that his earlier San Francisco stories are “perhaps the most sublime piece of popular literature America has ever produced.” Although some critics have sniffed that his writing trends more toward breezy pop than literary heft, there is no doubting his nationwide appeal; three versions of his San Francisco stories have been broadcast on PBS and Showtime.

MAUPIN reached this plateau because he was one of the first authors to invent a world where quirky, thoroughly likable characters of all sexual persuasions interact happily with one another. “I was able to be revolutionary by worming my way into people’s hearts, not their pants,” he said. Long before “Will & Grace,” “Six Feet Under” and “Sex and the City,” Maupin was telling yarns about an urban village where everyone gets along and knows the details of each other’s lives.

“He put the gay boy, the straight girl, the lesbian woman and the straight man into one colorful setting,” said Charles Flowers, executive director of the Lambda Literary Foundation. “When he began writing, there was a lot of cultural separatism, with gays on one side of the street and straights on the other. But Maupin crossed over and just wrote great popular fiction. That’s how you build an audience.”

As in his earlier books, “Michael Tolliver Lives” echoes themes from Maupin’s own life: Like his main character, he has wrestled with the reluctance of family members to acknowledge – and celebrate – his lifestyle. Like Tolliver, who is frustrated by his family’s lingering bias against gay men and women, Maupin struggled to win respect and unconditional love from the members of his own family.

He married Christopher Turner, a 36-year-old website entrepreneur, in February and called their bond “the greatest thing that’s happened to me.”

Then he took Turner home to meet the folks.

“I was struck by the really gallant effort on the part of our relatives to be kind and accepting,” he said, recalling recent visits he and Turner made to their respective families, including a trip to North Carolina, just before his father died.

“But there was this enormous gulf that we couldn’t span, because we were thinking in entirely different ways. And this gulf is happening on a national scale right now.”

Maupin shifts uncomfortably on a living room sofa, watching a blanket of fog peel off the bay. He suddenly sounds exasperated.

“I mean, here I am. I’m Armistead Maupin, for God’s sakes,” he said. “I’ve been preaching this message to the world for 30 years, and my own family still hasn’t quite gotten it. It occurred to me, as I began writing the new book, that Michael Tolliver would almost certainly be in the same boat. He’d be angry too. I’ve run out of patience with this.”

Maupin rattles off a litany of personal complaints: He’s been out of the closet since 1974, and his relatives should have fully accepted this by now. They should embrace him, not simply tolerate him. It’s hard enough to fight these battles in one’s youth. But as age approaches, he’d much rather spend his time enjoying those he loves: “I’m still in my prime,” he said with a mildly protesting laugh. “I’m not done yet.”

A poster hanging on a wall in his home shows a different Armistead Maupin, some 30 years ago. The face is leaner, the hair shaggier. In a framed newspaper ad, the Chronicle boasts that “Tales of the City” would be returning with more installments. In those days, the author was quite the hot young celebrity – and San Francisco was in its social and political heyday, a beckoning Ellis Island for gays and lesbians.

Like many before him, Maupin came to the city looking for a chance to simply be himself. He was born in Washington, D.C., in 1944, and raised in North Carolina in a conservative Republican household. After serving in Vietnam, he worked briefly for a Charleston, S.C., newspaper (and Sen. Jesse Helms’ TV station) before landing a job in 1971 with the San Francisco office of the Associated Press. He came out publicly soon afterward and in 1976 hit on the idea of writing a serial about singles life in the Bay Area for the Pacific Sun. When the paper’s city edition folded, he continued the project at the Chronicle. It was an instant hit. Readers were drawn by the novelty of contemporary fiction in the pages of a daily newspaper; they reveled in a series that featured a nurturing landlord, Anna Madrigal, who later revealed that she’d had a sex change operation. The work was rewarding, but also hectic.

“I had to write individual 800-word segments, fictional stories, every day for five days a week,” he said. “In two years I had maybe two weeks off. It was abject hell.”

The pace slowed when HarperCollins (then Harper & Row) persuaded Maupin to turn the installments into individual novels. He rewrote some segments, became much freer with language and launched his career as an author. Today he can’t imagine writing 800 words all at once, let alone five times a week.

He also couldn’t imagine launching a similar set of stories based in another city, as some publishers have asked him to do over the years. (“Could I do this in Los Angeles, turning it into a little village where everybody keeps running into everybody? I don’t think so.”) San Francisco – bizarre, progressive, forgiving – was the logical setting for Barbary Lane, and Maupin believes the city has much to be proud of.

“We have been right on so many things,” he said, sounding like a Chamber of Commerce advocate. “We were right on the Iraq war. We were right on George Bush. We were right about global warming.”

BUT there’s still work to be done, he added: The AIDS crisis is far from resolved, and battles over gay marriage continue. In Hollywood, gay and lesbian actors are still trapped in a “celluloid closet” that prevents them from announcing their sexual preference to the world. And in the literary community, gay and lesbian books are still “ghettoized” in many chain and independent bookstores.

“The best thing for me to do is keep writing, to be as honest as I can,” said Maupin, who has begun work on yet another book about the Barbary Lane crowd. And he promises that at least one of them, heartthrob Mary Ann Singleton, will undergo a transforming experience. When last seen, she was a reserved Connecticut matron with a silvery Judi Dench hairdo, yearning to return to her old San Francisco roots.

“Can you say ‘younger woman’?” Maupin asked with a delighted grin. “Uh-oh, I probably shouldn’t have told you that.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Armistead Maupin/Barnes & Noble

June 14, 2007

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

5 Questions for Armistead Maupin

5 questions for Armistead Maupin
By Jocelyn McClurg, USA TODAY
San Francisco's 28 Barbary Lane was home away from home to millions of fans of Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City series (1978-1989).

Some of Tales' most beloved characters return in Michael Tolliver Lives (HarperCollins, $25.95), including the HIV-positive title character. The author, 63, spoke with USA TODAY.

1: Why revisit Michael?

I wanted to examine my own experience as an aging gay man. Michael is a little bit me, a little bit who I'd like to be and a little bit who I'd like to sleep with.

2: Michael is doing pretty well for himself with a much younger guy, as are you. (Maupin married Christopher Turner, 35, in Canada earlier this year.)

It's the best time of my life. Not specifically because my husband is young, but because he's kind and understanding. The young part doesn't hurt, of course.

3: Could you have imagined 30 years ago that one day gay couples could marry?

In a word, no. (Laughs.)

4: Why do you think readers fell in love with Tales of the City?Maybe because it imagined a world that was possible but had not yet been achieved. The very fact that Barbary Lane encompasses gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered and straight characters makes it appealing to everyone.

5: Why has humor been important to you as a writer?It's been important to me as a man. It's always been my defense against a world that is fundamentally quite cruel.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Michael Tolliver Day, June 12, 2007


Monday, June 11, 2007

Armistead Maupin takes new trip down Barbary Lane

Armistead Maupin takes new trip down Barbary Lane

Monday, June 11, 2007

Unlike his friend Nora Ephron, Armistead Maupin doesn't feel bad about his neck. Sure, it's a little creaky -- a touch of arthritis -- but he looks on the bright side. "I wake up in the morning with the loveliest guy in the world, with incredibly geezery aches and pains," Maupin says with a laugh.

His point is, he wakes up. And he does so -- with his husband, Christopher Turner, a Web site entrepreneur -- in a cozy aerie, tucked in the woods above Parnassus Avenue at the top of a zigzag of brick steps.

The house has a spectacular view of the city, as does Maupin, creator of the beloved "Tales of the City" series.

Started in 1976 as a newspaper serial following the adventures of the various eccentrics living at 28 Barbary Lane (a stand-in for Russian Hill's Macondray Lane), "Tales" ran for years in The Chronicle, spawning six books and three television miniseries.

After 18 years, Maupin has returned to Barbary Lane with a new book -- "Michael Tolliver Lives," out Tuesday from HarperCollins -- which is another love song to Maupin's adopted home.

Tuesday, the city returns the compliment; Mayor Gavin Newsom has declared June 12 "Michael Tolliver Day in San Francisco."

Unlike its predecessors, the new book is written from the point of view of Tolliver, the sweet male Southern belle.

"I was nervous that people following the series might be thrown off by a first-person novel that has all the characters treated equally," says Maupin, settling into a deep champagne-colored couch and looking very Brooks Brothers in a green gingham shirt and crisp khakis. But as the book took shape, he couldn't resist giving preferential treatment to some of the characters.

"They started auditioning for me, begging for a place in the chorus line," he says. These folks are still kicking, despite the devastation of AIDS and advancing age, and therein lies the theme of Maupin's newest "Tale."

"I wanted to illuminate the process of growing older as a gay man, and make it easier for people who think life is over," he says. "Gay men who are growing old are incredibly lucky to be here."

Maupin's life hasn't been untouched by AIDS; like so many, he lost a loved one. The optimistic outlook he has today has been hard won.

"But if I'd known that 63 was going to feel this good, I would have been a lot more cheerful along the way," says Maupin. He and Turner, who is 27 years younger, were married this year in Vancouver, British Columbia; Turner runs a Web site for gay men over 40 who are searching for younger partners.

"Age is the last closet you come out of in the gay world," he says, and that's more than just a snappy coinage.

"There are such gloomy visions of gay men aging. But if you worship beauty above all else, if you worship sex above all else, you're in trouble. If you're not working on your heart every second, you are going to have a very sad old age."

The walls of Turner and Maupin's terraced Arts and Crafts cottage are lined with paintings, photographs and mementos.

A photo-portrait of Maupin by David Hockney hangs in the tin-lined stairwell. Facing it is a sultry watercolor of Turner by Don Bacardi, partner of author Christopher Isherwood (a mentor of Maupin's). Nearby is a pencil sketch of Ian McKellen as Gandalf, a self-portrait the actor left as a gift on his last visit.

Among the treasures displayed on a beautifully figured oak table by the front window is a gilt-edged edition of "Mademoiselle de Maupin." French writer Theophile Gautier's 1835 novel is the story of a woman seeking truth and beauty through cross-dressing. The character is one of the inspirations for Anna Madrigal, the transsexual landlady in "Tales of the City" who was played on film by Olympia Dukakis.

Also holding places of honor in Maupin's home are the sepia portraits of his maternal grandmother. She was an English suffragist, theosophist, palm reader and actress who moved to Asheville, N.C., during the First World War. One photograph shows her wide-eyed and in character as "The Madwoman of Chaillot," a satirical French play from the 1940s. Maupin saw her perform when he was a boy, and still recalls the moment she took the stage in that role at the Raleigh Little Theatre, rising through a trapdoor in a curtain of dry ice.

She would often read his palm and ask what he wanted to be when he grew up. "A lawyer, like Daddy," he would say, and she would close his palm tenderly, with a look that said "probably not."

When he last visited her, at a convalescent home in Virginia, "Tales of the City" had just been published. At 95, she was dressed up as always, but she didn't know him. On an impulse, he reached out his palm. "Teddy," she said, using his family nickname, "you're in your 30s now."

Through "Tales of the City," Maupin became an activist.

"We've had a revolution over the years, and I'm really happy to have been part of it," he says. "My whole career has been motivated by my determination that people shouldn't have to be in the closet. I'd spent time there myself."

Some newer fans of "Tales of the City" may not know how far he has come. Growing up in a prominent North Carolina family, Maupin was an "adamant young conservative." He began writing while in college, with a column in the Daily Tar Heel at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill that was "part Art Buchwald, part William F. Buckley."

After serving in the Navy, Maupin returned from Vietnam a vocal supporter of the war. Through his father -- whose law firm ran the Congressional Club, a fundraising arm of the conservative right -- he went to work for North Carolina Sen. Jesse Helms. "It's my so-called dark secret. I was Helms' golden boy," he says. "I think I've done enough to atone." In a twist Maupin relishes, Helms later condemned the film of "Tales of the City" on the Senate floor.

But looking back, "being a conservative and in the closet go hand-in-hand, because it's easier if you insist everyone else keep the lid on," he says. "The Rev. Ted Haggard is no rare exception." Haggard, a Christian-right preacher, was outed last year by his longtime male escort.

A move to California helped spur Maupin's self-acceptance -- but not right away.

"I was moving to San Francisco to work at Associated Press when I got a call that the president wanted to see me three days hence," he says mischievously.

Helms had recommended him to President Richard Nixon ("a terrified little man") as a potential counter to John Kerry, the charismatic member of Vietnam Veterans Against the War whose 1971 speech -- "how do you ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake?" -- electrified Congress.

"It's bitterly ironic to me now," Maupin says, "because in the last election Kerry was nowhere near left enough for me."

When he finally did report for his AP job in San Francisco, his editors -- intentionally, he thinks -- sent him to cover a peace march downtown. "That's when I saw my first public nudity," he says fondly.

His own coming out was gradual, and San Francisco, he believes, made all the difference. "It opened my heart," he says. "It let me examine my own bigotry. And it let me have a good time doing it."

Maupin has more than returned the favor. After all, in his seven Dickensian "Tales" -- inspired by his own adventures and those of his friends -- the real protagonist is the city by the bay.

Author appearance

Tuesday is "Michael Tolliver Day" in San Francisco. Armistead Maupin will appear at 12:30 p.m. at Book Passage, 1 Ferry Building, #42, San Francisco, (415) 835-1020,; and at 7 p.m. at Books Inc., Opera Plaza, 601 Van Ness, San Francisco, (415) 776-1111,

Maupin revisits ‘Tales of the City’ hippies

Maupin revisits ‘Tales of the City’ hippies

Maupin revisits 'Tales of the City' hippies
'Michael Tolliver Lives' revisits many of favorite San Francisco characters
The Associated Press
Updated: 8:42 p.m. ET June 11, 2007

SAN FRANCISCO - Stretched out on a sofa next to his Australian shepherd, Sophie, Armistead Maupin says he never intended to write another installment of his popular "Tales of the City" series.

But thankfully for fans worldwide, Maupin's newest book, "Michael Tolliver Lives," revisits many of the same larger-than-life characters that propelled "Tales" from a weekly San Francisco Chronicle column to six books and a Showtime mini-soap opera.

The book debuts Tuesday, when Maupin kicks off a tour and Mayor Gavin Newsom declares "Michael Tolliver Day" in San Francisco.

Instead of randy hippies who smoke joints, as they did when the series began in 1976, the aging lefties of "Michael Tolliver Lives" pop joint and arthritis pills. Instead of plotting nightly sexual conquests, as they did as 20-something singles, many profess shock at the level of promiscuousness practiced by today's youth.

The book — which would certainly earn the literary equivalent of an R rating — centers on Michael Tolliver, the endearing Southern gay man who came to San Francisco in 1971 and lived at 28 Barbary Lane. Now Michael is in his mid-50s, a mildly arthritic and HIV-positive landscape architect married to Ben, a handsome furniture designer and yogi 21 years younger.

Michael first spots Ben on an Internet dating site, and a chance meeting in a coffee shop results in romance. They get hitched over Valentine's Day weekend in 2004, when the city began granting marriage licenses to same-sex couples. Except for Ben's weekly forays to bath houses in Berkeley, they're homebodies who watch sappy movies and tease each other about their lack of cooking skills.

"I wanted to tell the story of a gay man getting older — especially one who thought death was imminent and is now confronting normal mortality," Maupin, 63, said in the living room of his 1907 Craftsman overlooking the San Francisco Bay. "I didn't want to say it was a 'Tales' sequel because I didn't want to disappoint fans."

For readers looking for updates on "Tales" characters, Maupin delivers. Mary Ann, the straight-laced girl from Cleveland who moved to San Francisco to find a husband, is now a wealthy wife in Connecticut. Brian, once a sex-crazed heterosexual who relished his bachelor status, is a single father uncertain whether to embrace or stifle his precocious daughter's bisexuality.

Politics play heavily in novel
The biggest difference between "Michael Tolliver" and earlier installments is Maupin's emphasis on politics. Several chapters take place near Orlando, Fla., where Michael visits his dying mother and introduces Ben to his born-again Christian relatives.

Michael bristles at Dick Cheney, the War on Terror, the radical right's influence in Washington. His relatives — racists and homophobes who live in a mansion and drive SUVs and a gas-guzzling boat — pray that he'll pick a straight "lifestyle" and repent before he goes to hell.

Maupin, a North Carolina native and Vietnam War veteran who came to San Francisco in 1971 as a reporter for The Associated Press, says the novel's political edge mirrors the polarization between red and blue America. It's also the logical result of Michael's maturity, he says.

"By the time you've reached my age, you're a lot less tolerant of bull---- from your family, even though the bonds still connect you and you still want to please," Maupin said. "We've made progress from utter invisibility 30 years ago to prominence in the cultural scene, but with that prominence has come a more rampant form of homophobia. My hope is that we're close to the time that homophobia takes on the status of racism today — normal, mainstream people don't accept it."

Maupin didn't create Michael Tolliver in his own image; the author's relatives welcomed his husband, Christopher Turner, into the family. But other parallels are obvious.

Maupin first saw Turner three years ago on an Internet site for older gay men, which Turner founded and runs. Maupin refused to solicit a date online and figured he'd never see Turner in real life.

Weeks later, he spotted Turner walking in the Castro, the city's gay enclave. Maupin stopped him, they exchanged numbers, dated, moved in together and married in Vancouver in February. Turner is 27 years younger than Maupin.

"I'm blessed to have found a man who loves me for who I am," said Maupin, who has bright but watery eyes and ruddy cheeks. "I am trying to be the best 63 I can — and I'm happy that I don't have to try to impersonate a man of 35. I want the novel to convey the fact that love, sex and connection are still there for us as we get older, just like it has been for me."

© 2007

Saturday, June 9, 2007

Sex and the city

Armistead Maupin's tales of single life in San Francisco in the 1970s and 80s gave gay fiction a sense of humour. After an interval of almost 20 years, he returns to the saga

by Hadley Freeman
The Guardian

Tales of the City, the enormously popular series that Armistead Maupin began in 1974, is set at number 28 on a quiet, tree-dappled lane in San Francisco; Maupin himself lives at number 27 on a quiet, tree-dappled lane in San Francisco. After an interval of almost 20 years since the last Tales of the City book, Sure of You, Maupin's new novel, Michael Tolliver Lives, is published on June 18. Michael, the much-loved gay character who appears throughout the series, is now in his 50s and enjoying unexpected marital bliss with a much younger man, whom he first spotted on a gay dating website before serendipitously running into him on the street; Maupin - which the author pronounces, with a determined lack of pretension, as "Moppin" - is now in his 60s and recently married a much younger man, whom he first saw on the internet and then bumped into on the street soon after.

There are many other parallels between Maupin's work and his life. The novelist Patrick Gale, one of Maupin's closest friends, observes: "The thing with Armistead's work is that it's so inextricable from his personality. This is true with a lot of novelists, but especially so with him because he so blatantly mines his own life for material." In his Tales, Maupin has taken what Gale describes as his "'Madame Bovary c'est moi' syndrome" to extraordinary lengths, spreading his personality among the characters, from gentle Michael to the out-of-towner naif Mary Ann Singleton to Mrs Madrigal, the wise landlady with a mysterious past.

Maupin explains that because he kept his homosexuality a secret until relatively late in life, and led "a secret interior life for so long, it has always felt very natural to bounce between very different characters". The Night Listener, one of two books that are not part of the Tales series (and which has been made into a film starring Robin Williams), seems to be the most closely autobiographical of all his novels. It tells of a popular San Franciscan storyteller, Gabriel, who made his name through "grabby little armchair yarns ... My characters were a motley but lovable bunch, people caught in the supreme joke of modern life who were forced to survive by making families of their friends" - which, in self-deprecating fashion, pretty much sums up the Tales series.

Maupin concedes that his novels "are all emotionally autobiographical, and I often need the fires of real life to get the fiction going. But I tamper with the facts to such a degree that I don't see them as autobiographies ... As long as it's fiction, you can get to the truth without embellishment. Vanity comes into play once the author starts suggesting that this is reality." It is for this reason, perhaps, that the book he feels closest to is Maybe the Moon, the story of a Jewish female dwarf's search for stardom in Hollywood: "I could say the most intimate things about myself and look into the darkest corners of my soul through her."

This sense of liberation coincided with his own self-discovery around the time he started to write Tales: "I've been very open about myself for years because, once I came out, I felt such exhilaration about telling the truth that I thought it had endless possibilities." He even came out to his parents - a conservative lawyer and housewife in North Carolina - in the same manner as Michael, who, in the second book of the series, writes a letter to his parents telling them that he is gay. Maupin wrote that letter when he was 33 - "too old".

Maupin was born in Washington DC in 1944 and grew up in Raleigh, North Carolina. A shy, unsporty boy, he compensated by storytelling: "I was the one who made everybody sit around the campfire and listen to my version of North Carolina ghost stories. I was quite humiliated at sports, so it was wonderful to discover when I was 10 that I had the power to control people that way." His favourite books as a child were the Hardy Boys mysteries, which "really whetted my appetite for storytelling", and the influence of their gripping storylines and cliffhanger chapter endings is clear in the Tales. A slightly later, and perhaps more surprising, influence were the films of Federico Fellini, which showed him that "there was another world out there with a great variety of humankind, far more than I could imagine in North Carolina".

Maupin was expected to follow in his father's footsteps and become a lawyer. However, law school proved to be rather uninspiring, so he "flunked out - although, if you ask my parents, I left". He then, improbably, worked briefly at the TV station of the notoriously rightwing senator Jesse Helms: "It was something I did to please my father, because deep down I knew I had this secret that would one day blow him out of the water," he says.

In the late 60s he enlisted in the navy and was posted to Vietnam, where his chief job was taking an admiral's wife and the wives of visiting dignitaries on shopping trips in Saigon - "they knew what to do with the queer boy". He also spent several months on the Cambodian border, where there were "a couple of mortar attacks but mainly it was pretty safe".

When he returned to the US, he worked for Associated Press in Charleston, and was posted to San Francisco when he was 27. He immediately loved the city, but hated the job, feeling restricted by the facts, the deadlines and the formulae, preferring instead "to spend hours polishing my prose". He quit after five months and wrote "a little weekly serial" for the local newspaper, Pacific Sun, about a woman who recently moved to San Francisco and the people she met in her building. In 1976, a columnist at the San Francisco Chronicle spotted it and recommended it to the newspaper's publisher. This became Tales of the City. "So I came in and met this very stuffy old gentleman and I said I wanted to write a serialised story about a new girl in town, not telling him who the new girl in town really was ..." Maupin recalls with a wicked laugh.

Even in the relatively liberated atmosphere of mid-1970s San Francisco, Maupin's tales of the lives of gay men in the city were a shock. There were references to bath houses, drugs and men cheating on their wives with men, but rarely any graphic details, and at first any suggestions that two men might be sleeping in the same bed were made obliquely.

After two more years of writing the column, Maupin was approached by a publisher to collate the instalments into a book. He spent two weeks hammering them together in Rock Hudson's house - with a dismissive wave, Maupin says he'd met the actor "in the usual gay way, there was a party ...", and they were briefly lovers, then lifelong friends - and these became the first two books in the series.

The tone was strikingly new. "It's not so much that he gave the gay world a voice, but that he gave it a sense of humour," says Peter Burton, the former literary editor of Gay Times. "Much of what was coming out of America at that time was either very po-faced or pulp." The novels were so unusual that it was rumoured that Maupin was a mysterious pseudonym, an idea aided by the discovery that his name is an anagram for "is a man I dreamt up". When one reader accused him of being "a lesbian collective in Marin County", he solemnly replied: "Sometimes I feel like a lesbian collective in Marin County, but I'm not."

Although Maupin's characters deal with highly emotive issues, not least Aids, the writing is always warm and lightly humorous, thereby bringing into the mainstream subjects that were still fairly off-limits at the time. But it was Maupin's depiction of gay and straight men comfortably mixing together that was particularly new. "He dared to remind the increasingly self-ghettoising gay communities around the world that life might be healthier and happier lived somewhere a little more mixed," says Patrick Gale. "He also dared to say that gay people can be air-headed jerks at a time when all gay fiction felt honour-bound to portray gay men as cute or victimised."

It is possibly for these reasons that some gay critics in America criticised Maupin, and continue to do so today. In Europe, Maupin is far more accepted by what he calls "the gay literary mavens" than he is in the States. In America, he didn't even make the Publishing Triangle's recent top 100 gay and lesbian authors, whereas he beat homegrown authors such as Sarah Waters and Alan Hollinghurst to win Britain's Big Gay Read. In The Night Listener, his doppelgänger narrator Gabriel confesses that he feels "illegitimate as a writer, as if I'd broken into the Temple of Literature through some unlocked basement window". But Maupin was very comforted by some advice his friend Christopher Isherwood gave him early on in his career: "Don't let anyone put you in a cubbyhole of being 'a gay author', and don't be embarrassed to create entertainment."

Michael Tolliver Lives, unlike the preceding Tales, is written in the first person, from the point of view of the eponymous Tolliver, who is now HIV positive. Maupin "lost whole generations of friends - and readers, I might add - to Aids, and I listened to their stories and try to appropriate them". The book also contains many swipes at the current political situation in the US - including references to "phony Florida elections", "secret American torture camps" and "a far-from-intelligent president". He wanted "to record the times and the fabric of San Francisco discourse".

Maupin has been compared to Mark Twain and Jack London for putting San Francisco on the literary map, and has become something of an urban landmark himself: taxi drivers point out his house, and Quentin Crisp once introduced him with the flourish: "This is Mr Maupin, he invented San Francisco." "It makes me incredibly proud, I love this city - it is part of my soul now," he says.

The elegiac tone of Michael Tolliver Lives has led some to assume that it is the last in the Tales of the City series. "Not at all," Maupin smiles. "I'm rejuvenated and this is the first chapter of a new series."


A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood

Alfred Hitchcock

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

Charles Dickens

La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini