Raymond pauses before leaning slowly towards Bukowski’s door and—without looking inside—taking hold of the door handle and drawing the door to. He turns to find the entire office looking at him; some amused, some anxious: all curious. He shrugs and walks over to his place, sits at his desk and slips Doty’s latest book out of its paper bag. Like so many men of his time and of his kind, Raymond faces a choice between conformity, courage and compartmentalization. The decision he makes will ricochet destructively through lives and decades until—in another time, another city; Paris, 2003—Raymond’s son Joe finally meets Joey. And the healing begins. Mmm,’ Raymond lies. Though physically intimidated by the man, he perceives no immediate threat. The doorman, deducing correctly that Raymond can mean no possible harm, pushes a second—inner—door, with his left hand, and now the light from within shows the door to be covered in green baize—like a snooker board, Raymond thinks. He blinks as his eyes adjust to the relative brightness of the interior. Sometime later he hears an odd slapping sound and opens his eyes to find the man standing, leaning against the upper bunk, his head out of view, his naked body immediately before Raymond. The man’s penis is fully erect and he is masturbating. Raymond’s cheeks are ruddy with arousal. And humiliation.

Like so many men of his time and of his kind, Raymond faces a choice between conformity, courage and compartmentalisation. The decision he makes will ricochet destructively through lives and decades until-in another time, another city; in Paris, 2003-Raymond's son Joe finally meets Joey. And the healing begins. There’s nothing we like more than to highlight the exceptional talents of our queer literary community, so it’s our pleasure to bring you I Am Not Raymond Wallace by debut author Sam Kenyon. I am delighted to announce that I will be composing the score for the Royal Shakespeare Company 's forthcoming production of A Midsummer Night's Dream . Director: Erica Whyman; Designer: Tom Piper; Lighting Designer: Charles Balfour. Something in Bukowski’s manner makes Raymond feel as though he’s in the presence of a Headmaster. ‘Yes. I’m Raymond. Raymond Wallace.’ For a moment, they sit in silence. Raymond holds his coffee in front of him, somehow unable either to sip it, or to put it down. Then he remembers something. ‘There was a report in the U.K. maybe five or six years ago—’57: that’s right—the Wolfenden Report. Recommendations about removing penalties for consenting adults in private, amongst others. Might that be the sort of thing you mean?’This suit. Love it. They said you looked unequivocally British. And they were right. Bukowski was uncharacteristically enthusiastic, which is like a medal, trust me.’ On Johnson Street between Prince and Gold, Joey reaches for his keys, opens a door and leads Raymond up the stairway. Twin smells: an unfamiliar brand of disinfectant, and years of dust. The stairs are scratched and splintered, moulded by the passing of time, shoes, wardrobes, coffins.

I've been beavering away on my new score: an adaptation of Choderlos de Laclos's LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES; I hope to have a draft completed by end October - more details will follow. Meanwhile, we're fast approaching the first anniversary of publication of I AM NOT RAYMOND WALLACE , and the fourth cast of MISS LITTLEWOOD has just set sail on the Queen Mary II! It is only when Raymond is on the platform awaiting his train that he identifies the overwhelming feeling he had during his visit to the store as that of having been seduced; he swiftly categorises this as an observation he will not be disclosing to Doty. As he retraces his steps to the YMCA, in fact, he begins the process of editing this entire experience so as to parcel up a version fit for Doty that doesn’t jeopardise its status within his body and memory, and in doing so realises that the quality he had most enviously and admiringly perceived in Joshua was, quite simply, his apparent freedom. And although he didn’t mean to make a joke, Raymond is delighted when Sam laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. As my self a gay boy growing up in the early 60's and knowing it at the age of 6, I could relate to SO MUCH of what was going on in this book made this THE story that i will NEVER ever forget, nor will I forget Raymond Wallace. Forty years later, in Paris, Raymond’s son -Joe- meets Joey and here the book lifts us up into a different space, one with a believable narrative twist which offers redemption and the way that people who feel unable to live in full honesty of their secret selves can smuggle the vital knowledge gained from a life of secrets, lies & repression out, via their work, writing and unconditional love, to a younger generation unbound by chains of shame. Pain is a great fuel to burn through decades of sadness, a scorched earth of ashes is a fertile space for new growth.I am over the moon to announce that I have a novel coming out in 2022. Published by Inkandescent, I Am Not Raymond Wallaceis a story of queer love and loss in the second half of the twentieth century. Here is the press release! I Am not Raymond Wallace is a multi-stranded story of queer redemption spanning multiple generations, told with precision-tooled prose, sharply-imagined settings and compassionately-observed characterization. Like so many men of his time and of his kind, Raymond faces a choice between conformity, courage and compartmentalisation.

He pauses, looking at Raymond, who has almost forgotten his task of purchasing the clothing, so captivated is he by Joshua’s demeanour and deportment. He wonders what it might be to move through the world as Joshua—with such elegant, understated confidence—and feels clumsy in comparison. Joey shrugs modestly, but Raymond notes with satisfaction the smile his compliment has prompted. ‘So, uh, what brings you here, Raymond? I mean, how did you find us?’ Fancy. I’m Kleinmann. Photography.’ He emphasises this last word as though divulging something of note. Joan had turned on him, eyes full of tears, voice full of anger: ‘There’s been a terrible accident.’ Joey smiles, now—smiles, and Raymond is almost positive he even blushes. For the first time in the conversation Joey looks to his beer, conveniently empty. Raymond doesn’t hesitate to make this his cue: ‘Can I buy you a drink?’Paris is a fashionable choice for that type,’ says Doty. ‘The overt ones—the continent’s lower moral standards allowing for greater freedom of expression. Characteristics?’ The January after he had turned fourteen, Stephen had come round in a state of great excitement. ‘Giant is coming to the Gaumont,’ he’d declared, almost before he was through Raymond’s bedroom door. ‘James Dean’s last film, ever! I’m going on Wednesday afternoon. Come with me.’ After performing for twelve years, he developed a career as a composer and lyricist. At the Royal Shakespeare Company, he provided music and lyrics for The Christmas Truce (2014), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2016) and Vice Versa (2017). He wrote the book, music and lyrics for Miss Littlewood—a musical exploring the life of Joan Littlewood—which opened at the RSC in 2018, and which is published by Concord Theatricals. He is currently developing a musical about Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas and Samuel Steward. Raymond waits for Doty to proffer a first name, but he does not do so. Raymond laughs as though at a congenial joke, and offers his hand. Wow. You really are out of another country, Wallace. Another era, even. Tell me what you know about quinces.’

The glance Doty gives him in response is a wave of anger that foams into resentment before ebbing towards subdued admiration. ‘You’ll go far,’ he says simply, and sips his coffee. ‘Okay,’ he then adds as though trying to regain the upper hand, ‘our deadline remains November 26, so we have just shy of three weeks: plenty of time. Police Commissioner tells me they’ve got two joints in their sights at present: The Fawn on Washington Street and another down on Jane Street in Brooklyn. Licenses to be revoked just as soon as they gather sufficient evidence.’ He stops abruptly, his face lit from within by inspiration in a manner Raymond finds faintly disquieting. ‘You know, Wallace, given the success of your shopping trip, I’m now thinking that we can push the envelope on this...information gathering.’ My great friend, the artist Harriet Mellor , has made a beautiful video, for which I've provided the music - 'Gavotterella', from The Glass Slipper. You can watch it here: Raymond does manage to get through all that and make a real, lasting, loving connection with Joey. But then he does not have the courage to take all the risks he would need to take, to live out his romance. There's a kind of sad, dark, depressive ambiance suffusing much of the book, even though in both the historical and modern section there are gay men who accept themselves and live lives full of people, fun, art (but not mostly lasting relationships). There are lots of sort of philosophical themes about art, literature, identity. Isn’t that obvious? Though perhaps it’s not “who”, but “what”. That is to say: a culture in which there are behaviours which run counter to societal norms is one thing, but when those behaviours are routinely criminal in nature, and when those behaviours result in vulnerability to other forms of criminal behaviour the picture shifts and the whole narrative needs adjustment. Good question, though. In the sense that one of the main tenets of psychiatric and therapeutic medicine is to understand the homosexual as a victim of his predilections, rather than a perpetrator.’

UKYABA 2018 Longlist

Ha! Jesus, no! Investigative journalism, Wallace. Immersive journalism. It’s my specialty. Though you’ll get much more traction than I would, for this particular investigation. Think of yourself as a decoy.’ Taking as his starting-point a real-life moment of queer history from 1960s New York, Sam Kenyon spins a marvellously stylish and often unexpected story.' NEIL BARTLETT As though trying to change the subject, Raymond hands Doty the receipt from Threads. He hasn’t worn the clothes yet—though sometimes, alone in his room, he takes them out, holds them against his body, looks at himself in the mirror and wonders at who he might become if he were to wear them. Kenyon is best known for his 2018 musical Miss Littlewood, based on the life of bombastic theatre director Joan Littlewood.