I'm trying to figure out why I hated this book so virulently. I think it all comes down to the ...breathless! writing style that... Andrews (or George Selden, if the Internet is to be believed)... adopts here. Lotsa ellipses, with a heaping helping internalized homophobia, not to mention some... really odd... no, really, really, really odd S&M passages. The authorial voice was just too deeply weird for me. The tone swung wildly from giddy excitement to deep depression, and the addition of a children's story which the protagonist was recounting to a strange little boy was whiplash-inducing. I was interested in this as I adored Selden's The Cricket in Times Square series, and when I heard about this closet classic I knew I had to read it. My motives were not particularly pure, and I suppose I deserve what I got for going in search of cheap thrills.I don't know if the gay S&M stuff I've read and enjoyed is simply less mannered, or more modern, or just more writerly, but this was torture. Heh, no pun intended.