Cary Alan Johnson (Image courtesy of subject)

In his debut novel, "Desire Lines," author Cary Alan Johnson births a story about Black gay friendship, desire, and addiction during the onset of the HIV epidemic in New York City in the 1980s. Desire Lines marks Johnson's first foray into long-form fiction after spending much of the last decade breathing life into characters aimed at centering the experiences of Black gay men in an HIV narrative that has historically erased them.

"Of all the really great books, movies, and shows produced about gay men's experience with AIDS in the 1980s, none have focused on Black gay men," said Johnson. "Of all the great work about cocaine and crack addiction, none focused on the experience of Black gay men. The 1980s was a period of hysteria and pain, but it was also a moment of intense introspection and spiritual alignment. You either sank or you swam. Many of us swam and continue to swim, and I want to tell this story."

In Desire Lines, readers follow an unnamed Black gay narrator as he grows up in Brooklyn, captivated by a vision of life on the other side of the river, where the sparkle and glitter of Manhattan beckon. Coming into adulthood, he finds himself living in a five-floor walk-up in Hell's Kitchen just as the AIDS epidemic is hitting the city. We follow him and his group of friends as they experience the first wave of illness and death and then accompany him on a two-year journey to Zaire, Central Africa, where he must confront corruption and homophobia in new and unexpected ways.

Johnson sat down with The Reckoning to discuss overcoming the fear of publishing his first novel, losing friends during the early days of the HIV epidemic, the joy gay men reclaimed on dance floors across New York City, and engaging in pleasure even amid death and uncertainty.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

The Reckoning: Cary, talk to me about writing Desire Lines. Why was it vital for you to tell this particular story about the early HIV and crack epidemics through a Black gay lens?

Johnson: I started writing the book in earnest about ten years ago. Sometimes they say that with a certain amount of shame that it took that long, but it took James Baldwin 10 years to write his first novel, so I'm in good company. I think plenty of really good books have been written about both of those things. When I think about the HIV epidemic, I think about Andrew Holleran's "Dancer from The Dance," I think about "The Hours," I think about "And The Band Played On." There's been some stuff written about addiction, but I don't think there's been anything of quality and breadth written about the impact of those two things on Black queer men. And I'm like, well, who's supposed to write it?

First, I said I'll do a series of essays. And then I said, well, I'll do a memoir. But, I don't think I'm that interesting day to day. I also don't think there's anything linear about my life or, frankly, anyone else's. I continue to evolve, and it ain't all pretty. So, I said just take your experience and put it in a novel.

The Reckoning: You've been writing and publishing short stories and poetry for years, and you're also a founding member of the Black gay writing collective "Other Countries." I'm surprised it took this long for you to produce a novel.

Johnson: A novel is work. And it's not for the faint of heart. You have to believe you know how to do what you're doing. People might think it's not good. People might think it's got some interesting storylines, but maybe it just doesn't hold together. Perhaps it doesn't rise and fall properly, or maybe you get bored at a certain point. But no one who's read it has told me they've gotten bored or found that it fell apart in the middle. I feared that people would say this is good, but it kind of doesn't follow a proper structure. There's not enough foreshadowing, you know? I think that's why it took me ten years [to write it].

The Reckoning: I love your ability to paint the scene and transport the reader to a specific time and place using landmarks and beloved gay clubs like Paradise Garage and Keller's. Can you talk about what those institutions meant to you as a Black gay man coming up in New York in the eighties?

Johnson: The one place where I thought it was worthy to stop and make a special story was about the Paradise Garage. I think people of my generation sort of have to elevate the Paradise Garage because it was something we had that was so important to us. And it's something we lost. And I think the loss of the Paradise Garage for many of us is associated with the loss of our friends who we partied with. Even Better Days and Paradise Garage—they kind of got merged as these spaces where we as a community were kind of coming into ourselves. Here we were, kings and queens. I think the memory of the Paradise Garage gets super elevated for all of us, and it becomes almost mystical. And that's how I try to write that chapter.

“I think people of my generation sort of have to elevate the Paradise Garage because it was something we had that was so important to us. And it's something we lost. And I think the loss of the Paradise Garage for many of us is associated with the loss of our friends who we partied with.”

- Cary Alan Johnson

The Reckoning: You write so hauntingly through the narrator's voice about watching friends vanish during the epidemic's early days. Do you wrestle with survivor's guilt?

Johnson: The narrator has this experience where he's drugged up, and he's drunk, and he starts experiencing people vanish, and of course, it's a hallucination. But, obviously, it is meant to be symbolic of what living through that time felt like—a series of disappearances and wondering, are you the next one? Am I the next one to have swollen lymph nodes? Even if I'm not the next one to disappear, why do I deserve not to be the one who disappears? And do I want to not disappear as all my friends vanish into the ether? Do I want to be left here? I suffer from a deep and unfillable sense of loss, but I'm not guilty anymore.

We were young men in our twenties and thirties, and we were told, you know, it's pretty much it for you. And who cares? Because you're nasty, you're queer; you're Black. Who cares? So fighting against all that and trying to find meaning in life without a promise of a future. The narrator is like; I don't know if I'm gonna [be alive] next month.

The Reckoning: There's lots of sex in Desire Lines. Were you intentional about centering pleasure for Black gay men during this dark period, and what has the reaction been to this element in the book?

Johnson: Jewel Gomez described the book as steamy. And yeah, I find it steamy. There's a lot of sex in the book, but it is all very contextual. Sex is one of the ways that we communicate as gay men and as human beings. But let me be honest, it was not a moment of frivolity or great joy. It was a good 20 years of stolen joy. Once the antibody test for HIV became available, that did change things a bit. Because then there was not the same question mark. The answer was okay, I'm not positive, but can I guarantee that's not gonna happen? Can I guarantee the condoms are never gonna break? Am I ready to stop having oral sex? And for some people, am I ready to stop having unprotected anal sex? But knowing your status helped in terms of thinking about the future.

The Reckoning: What do you want people to take away from your book after reading, specifically those readers who may be unfamiliar with the Black queer experience?

Johnson: Our experiences are universal. Lots of people have to deal with the fear of illness, lots of people have to deal with longing, and lots of people have to deal with sexual abuse. I want people who lived through that era and read it to feel that this is what happened—this is a part of my experience. Yeah, I was at the Paradise Garage, and that's exactly how it felt. I remember the Bobbi Humphrey song, "Harlem River Drive," playing at the beginning of the night. And for people who did not live through that era, I honestly don't know what I want from them. I think that's what I'm about to find out.

Editor’s Note: Cary Alan Johnson will be in conversation with Craig Washington at Charis Books & More on Friday, September 23, 2022, at 7:30 PM in Atlanta. CNP is a co-host of this event.