When Victor sent me this article yesterday, (which is really a letter to his fans and peers), I was in tears because I’m very fond of him and I can appreciate how difficult it must have been for 
him to write it. Sadly, there is no one to whom he can pass the torch because he’s unique and so are his books. Victor is held in high esteem by everyone who has read his books or knows him, and for him to lose that wonderful gift, his writing, that he has shared with us for decades, must be a bitter blow, but for his fans his work will live on. Many of Victor’s stories are among my prized collections and I wish selfishly that this day had never arrived. Tough as this article will be for you to read, it was heartbreaking, I’m sure, for Victor to write.
Wave
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But Tom’s no more – and so no more of Tom …. Lord Byron
It has been more than 2 years now since I had a new novel released, and in that ensuing time, there have been only a handful of short stories, some of them written in the past and recently discovered by me in boxes of old manuscripts, and only a couple of them new material.
Still, I get queries from friends and fans, asking about what will come next – I get this one often: “Will there be another Tom and Stanley book?” How I wish I could answer in the affirmative – but, sadly, no, there is not likely to be another Deadly mystery novel – nor, I think, any novel at all.
The answer is not age – well, it is surely age related, but that’s only a part of it – and not, I assure you, simply laziness on my part. I am not retired and lolly-gagging on some tropical beach somewhere. If only.
The truth is far more prosaic. My brain is damaged. The diabetes which I thought I had well under control, got to it. White matter damage, they tell me, and small vessel damage. One result has been a crippling loss in my mobility. At that, I am lucky, it seems – this kind of brain damage can lead often to Alzheimer’s disease. I don’t have Alzheimer’s, I don’t think – the patients don’t always know, but in most ways, my brain still seems to be functioning. I have asked friends who are close to me to let me or my family know if they think things have gone beyond the normal Heck- I’m- getting-older-stage. So far, so good. I’m not drooling on myself when I eat and I am not mooning the hired help – well, yes, the guy who cuts the grass next door has given me an idea or two, but I think it best if I keep those to myself.
What has gone from me, alas, is the writing, the magic words that used to pour out of me and produced all those novels and short stories. I simply can no longer summon them up. Oh, every once in a while, I can feel the old electricity crackling, as it were, at the tips of my fingers. Then I sit down and write a Cooper’s Hawk, or a Song of India – often, I am not ashamed to tell you, through a veil of tears, but they are tears of gratitude, to have that precious gift back again, if only briefly.
And I am sorry to say, it is briefly. The gift departs as suddenly and as mysteriously as it came, and I return to the not-writing-darkness, knowing full well that at one time or another – perhaps this instance? Or the next? Or…well, one of these times, I will not emerge from that darkness. The writing will be – truly and irrevocably – finished
My last novel was A Deadly Kind of Love for Dreamspinner Press – I doubt that I could convey to you how hard that was for me to write, knowing as I did so that it would not measure up to my best work. I could only pray that it would at least surpass my worst. What might have taken me 2 or 3 weeks in the past took me month after month, and not all of the days nor all of the fist-pounding on my desk top could ever make it the book I wanted it to be. I knew that. But I wanted to write it anyway, and I am glad I did.
My last short piece was my obituary tribute to Jose Sarria – I knew I simply had to write that, out of respect for a man who was throughout my life one of my heroes, but I doubt that I have ever struggled so hard to get words to paper. I went to bed night after night in tears, this time tears of frustration because I could not get the words to say what I so wanted to say. I think, because so many have said they liked the piece, that I came close, but no one is more aware than I of the gulf between what I wanted and what I produced.
In between those two, there have been a couple of short stories. There may, over the next year or so, be a few more, so long as Jay Hartman is willing to publish them for me – for little more, let it be said, than my undying gratitude.
I’m writing this because so many of my friends and fans have asked about my ongoing silence and I wanted them to understand. I do not want, however, to make this a “poor pitiful me” piece. No one knows better than I that I am far better off than many. What a long and felicitous career I have had! How many readers have written to tell me of the pleasure I have given them. I have, I believe, the respect of my peers, which is, in my opinion, no small thing. I believe I have made a difference. I doubt that many have been more committed to the genre of glbt literature than I have been, and I am satisfied with that. My immediate problem is a home, since I have been in this one now more than double what the shop owner and I anticipated when I moved in – but I am working on that also, and remain optimistic. I don’t especially need assistance but I would not be averse to your prayers.
I am sure that most of you will know without my saying, that this too has been difficult for me to write, on so many levels – I am a private person, it is not easy for me to talk about private things – I would prefer that you think of it less as an apologia but rather more as a love letter to the many people who have helped me make a long and successful career out of what was, I know well, a very modest gift.
And, really, in the long run, how much can it matter if there is never another Victor J. Banis novel published? I strongly suspect the world will continue to spin in its orbit. More importantly, I hope that my genre goes on and on, and that gay writers in the future will far surpass anything that I have done, and leave me so totally in the dust that my name will hardly be remembered at all. That, I feel, will be a real payoff for my efforts.
Tom’s no more, then, thank you George Gordon – and so no more of Tom.
I’m not sure what anyone can say. This is beyond sad. Beyond the personal, human scope, what a huge loss for the genre.
What a loss. Such a gifted storyteller. I don’t have a talent or gift that I’ve turned into a legacy, like Mr Banis has and did. So I can’t comprehend the loss of such a gift. I can just say “thank you” for sharing your stories with us.
“…and leave me so totally in the dust that my name will hardly be remembered at all…”
No, Sir. You’ll be remembered. Those who lead the way always are.
I don’t think of this as sad. I think of it as facing reality. There comes a time — with age, usually — when we have to be realistic about ourselves (I’m 74). We have to take care of our health, our food, our living quarters, and get help for these things if need be. Often during transition times it seems as if the old ways are dying out, but really, we are moving towards a different place, a different life, a different consciousness.
How joyous that I have had Victor in my life, that I have enjoyed his writing, watched him mentor and befriend a writer I worked with (Mick), seen him approach being “elderly” with much more grace than I. That the words don’t come, don’t flow, is of little consequence in the long run, for we have a body of Victor’s work that will live on.
And as for Victor’s struggle, this too will pass. He will find other things besides novel writing to occupy his mind (I’ve recently found UFO’s!) and new people to correspond with, meet with, communicate with. After a recent health crisis of my own I have now found myself with three new aides who help me out, read my unsent emails to frustrating family members, listen to me read some of my own writing, tell me about their families and experiences. I find myself in a new phase of life that is more than rewarding in its own way, as will Victor I’m sure. Let’s celebrate him, not be sad! Sally Miller, Synergy Book Service, Flemington NJ
I can only say that my life is richer on many levels because of this man. Thank you Victor.
Victor,
You and your short stories will ALWAYS have a home with us!
Best,
Jay Hartman
Editor-in-Chief
Untreed Reads Publishing
How wonderfully brave of you, Victor, to share your challenges. Once again you are a pioneer, a model to show us how to move through the world. Thank you for sharing and baring a corner of your soul. I, for one, am grateful for all the many books and stories you have written, which will endure as a testament to your creativity and imagination. You changed the landscape of gay literature. Know that even in your silence you will be with us…always.
The courage and dignity it takes to acknowledge when it’s time for such a profound change shine through your words, Victor. I hadn’t been aware until now that my respect for you and your devotion to writing could expand as it has in reading this message. Yes, it’s a poignant message, and I wept reading it. But only a strong and honest man could write it.
In addition to the body of work you’ve created, you’ve given our genre other gifts, too. Although I’ve never met you in person, I’ve considered you both a hero and a mentor for years. Hero, because of how you helped break open the social prison set aside for faggots in our country, and for the character you demonstrate in your life; mentor, because you’ve given essential encouragement, guidance and critical feedback to developing authors now.
I’m proud to say you’ve made me a better writer, and I’ll always be grateful for your generous encouragement and feedback. Over and over, you’ve given me your time and your insight as you’ve read my work. Your praise and your criticism both carry your signature unaffected clarity and honesty, your love of story. So relevant, so reliable.
To my way of thinking, you’ve planted your writing gifts in a bunch of us. We may never achieve the seamless elegance in our storytelling that you’ve shown us, but the example is there. For us, and for other developing writers who haven’t yet discovered your work.
Thank you.
The amazing thing about books and wonderful characters like Tom (and Terry and Buck and Stanley and Harvey Walton and many more) is that they never go away. They are always there whenever we feel like reaching for them. They are there to testify to life lived well, to talent that lighted the way to generations of writers and brightened the lives of generations of readers. For that, we can only be forever grateful. Thank you, sir.
I am in awe of your bravery and honesty to your friends and fans. The Tom & Stanley novels are some of my favorite as you’ve created character that seem very real to me. I know coming forward was very, very difficult for you, but I am sure it was for the best so that your friends and fans have a chance to let you know just how much your work – and YOU – mean to all of us. Age is a wicked thing, but so is diabetes, which runs rampant in my family. I am pre-diabetic but doing all I can to take care of myself; don’t give up on writing OR your health. Do what YOU feel is write (lol) at the moment. Let us hear from you now and again.
There will always be a Tom & Stanley – And Victor – as far as I’m concerned. Thank you for sharing your personal struggle with us; your readers, fans and friends.
You don’t just have our regard, Victor, you have our loftiest esteem and undying gratitude. (And I don’t believe I’m overstepping by using plural pronouns.) I’m trying not to think of what the genre has lost but rather what the genre has gained because of you.
In addition to being a talented and groundbreaking writer, you are and have always been a class act, role model, and, however inadvertently, mentor.
More stories will surely come. They may come slowly, and they may be short, but they’ll appear. And I for one can’t wait to read them.
Thank you for your many wonderful gifts to us. I hope that you realize that even if you never write another story, your words live on is your readers who think about your characters fondly and lose themselves again and again in the same stories. It may not matter if you do not write again, but know the fact that you did write matters a great deal to a lot of people.
Dear Victor,
Once again I stand in awe of you. This must have been so hard for you to share with all of us and I want to weep for your loss of story telling. Hopefully you will find yourself still experiencing those occasional bursts as time goes on. However, even if you do not write another word, it won’t take away from how we feel about you, the adoration and yes…love that we share for you. Your books will continue to be devoured by us and we will continue to be inspired by you. Please don’t disappear on us. Join in with discussions and debates because you still have much to offer. 🙂
Thanks so much for what you have gifted us. I can always reread your amazing books. Take care of your self!!
Your gift isn’t gone, Victor, it lives on in your stories, and each new reader to discover your work rekindles the flame. Through your words I’ve found joy, laughter, comfort, and reassurance, and came to know and love the characters you created. My life is richer because I met them.
Many readers for years to come will pick up one of your books, and in its pages find inspiration. A new generation of writers will be born.
Thank you for sharing your talent.
No.
Not at all, Victor.
Your books and amazing worlds, will never be forgotten.
Victor, one of my highlights of my 2009 sailing holiday in Greece was reading Longhorns on our soft rocking boat. Thank you for giving me so such a good book to read. I am sad to hear there will be no more new novels from your hand. It makes me treasure the ones I have more.
Mr. Banis, I’m happy I found your stories and I will keep on reading and enjoying them. Thank you :’)
Thanks to everyone for the love and support you have shared with me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.
I must tender an apology – I mentioned Jay Hartman who is always happy to publish my short stories, and I am truly deeply grateful for his help, but I should also say that Laura and Kris at MLR Press have also always been there for me. I don’t think I’ve ever sent them anything that they weren’t happy to publish. I doubt that Lola Dances would have found a home anywhere else, and the same is true of many of my shorter works, which (as with Jay) can not have profited them much more than my gratitude. I have been blessed in my career, and can hardly grump now if things have been cut short. And, so long as I’m still here and still functioning, there is always that sliver of hope…
Victor–what a loss! Thank you for sharing so honestly and poignantly. Best to you.
Bridget
something very poignant written by a writer who helped create the genre. Though it is sad that his writing will be limited, there is a substantial library of his work to give us all pleasure in its reading and re-reading.
Mr Banis – Thank you for the stories I read and the stories I still have to read. Best wishes to you.
Mr. Banis, Thank you for your gift, your stories, and your generosity of spirit. May new and wonderful doors open to you in the future.