‘The Spectators’ takes on LGBT issues of the ’90s

Jennifer duBois’ third novel, “The Spectators,” spans New York City history from 1969 to the mid-1990s.

It centers on Mattie, an opaque Jerry Springer-esque talk-show host. His show is a voyeuristic spectacle and constant source of scrutiny from parents and conservative groups, and when a surprise-crush segment goes bad, it ends in one guest’s violent attack.

When there’s a school shooting, and the media discovers that the shooters are fans of Mattie’s show, all hell breaks loose for him and Cel, his beleaguered publicist.

The book, (Random House, 352 pp., ★★★g), which shows Mattie through Cel’s eyes, was released Tuesday.

Cel’s chapters about the current crisis alternate with those of Mattie’s former secret male lover, Semi, who knew Mattie back when he was Matthew Miller, closeted do-gooder attorney and candidate for state assembly.

Semi’s chapters trace his lifelong friendship with a small group of men and are heart-rending and visceral. They show first the freedom of the 1970s for the gay community in New York and then the all-encompassing loss that followed during the AIDS crisis of the 1980s.

The two stories converge as Cel tries to mitigate the publicity crisis, and Semi finds his way back to Matthew. duBois captures both the lost possibilities for the queer community and the hysteriarending scares of 1990s’ talk-show culture.

Mattie is enigmatic throughout. Even in the past, in the decade when he pursued an extramarital relationship with Semi, he remains abstruse. Like many politicians, he seems to exist as a reflection. He “radiated a subtle electricity,” Semi says, “something slight and untraceable that kinectified the air around him – and it was easy to mistake this, then, for the particular dynamism of compassion.”

duBois’ characters are so acutely drawn and vivid that Mattie’s enigmatism – his singular defining trait – serves to draw out the personalities of those around him. It is his nature that leads to his success and his downfall when he is connected to two teenage shooters.

Cel is haunted by her rural upbringing. Although she gains an education that takes her to New York City, she suffers under the weight of an identity crisis.

As she preps Mattie through the crisis of media scrutiny, it becomes apparent that she is ill-suited to her job.

Her chapters don’t seem to hold the same weight as those of playwright Semi though, who recounts his fervent love for Mattie and the cruel confusion of the 1980s.

“The genocide was coming for my people,” he says. “And because I’d loved Matthew Miller as I had, I would be condemned to live through it.”

Semi is heartbreakingly poetic about the consequential loss of his friends and erasure of queer culture from the city.

“Which narrative thread shall we pull to unravel a generation?” he asks. Even his survival brings little relief: “Some fates are generational. Dodging them feels historically mortifying. To keep showing up at funerals became a special sort of shame.”

The two narratives of “The Spectators” converge just as Mattie’s career is about to collapse.

duBois’ language is dextrous, and her pacing impressive. Although we never quite discover the mystery of Mattie, we grow to understand his perspective and his role in Semi’s life. “The Spectators” is a treatise on the media’s power and a finely-wrought example of intimate pain.