Mr Loverman

The novel’s opening section introduces its elderly gay Caribbean narrator—an identity intersection rarely explored or represented in fiction. Barry first appears reflecting on his age while still partaking in dancing and heavy drinking. Though aware of the perceived disjuncture, he tells Morris that they “must believe that their best years are ahead of [them], not behind [them]” (8). Although Barry, Morris, and Carmel have lived long lives already, this novel foregrounds their efforts to seek new lives despite their older age.

The cultural context is also apparent from the start, as Barry’s use of Caribbean patois characterizes his narration even after 50 years in England. For example, recalling how long he and Morris have been close, Barry says they have been “since [they] was both high-pitched, smooth-cheeked mischief-makers waiting for we balls to drop” (9). Although this example uses nonstandard grammar, Barry insists that he knows standard English and simply chooses to speak his own way as his “postcolonial prerogative”—i.e., as an act of resistance against a colonizer. Carmel’s dialogue also uses patois, as when she accuses Barry of smelling like “renk rum narsiness” (16). Rum is a common drink in the Caribbean and therefore a signifier of their culture heritage, but Carmel’s strong religious commitment makes her despise Barry’s drinking.

This is one of many sore points in Barry and Carmel’s marriage, and the first three chapters establish the conflict between the two and how years of deception and repression have eroded any sense of trust and intimacy. The conflict is characterized by physical abuse, aggression, and constant verbal altercations. Barry lives a second life and has had a romantic affair with Morris since he was a teenager. Although Carmel picks up on his deceit, she suspects him of cheating on her with other women. Though Carmel’s suspicions of adultery are correct, she cannot conceive of Barry as anything other than straight, likely because of her own heteronormative bias.

Barry himself is not immune to those biases; the very fact that he married a woman demonstrates a degree of internalized anti-gay sentiment. His repression of the full truth of his orientation is in large part a product of fear. When Morris, after divorcing Odette, asks Barry to leave Carmel and live with him instead, Barry rejects his lover due to awareness of anti-gay violence, much of it societally sanctioned. The images that come to his mind are of gay men being tortured with electric-shock therapy until they either change their ways or die. Sexual relationships between men were illegal in Antigua until 2022, and this atmosphere of anti-gay bias has strongly influenced Barry’s relationship to his identity. Barry also notes that in Antigua, people’s behavior is much more policed by the public: “[B]ack home everybody kept their eye on everything and everyone” (39). The fallout between Morris and his ex-wife only affirms the dangers, to Barry’s mind. Morris must bribe Odette to keep his orientation a secret from his own sons, which indicates that his own family wouldn’t accept him for who he truly is. In introducing the dynamics between Barry, Morris, and their respective wives, the novel lays the groundwork for its theme of Anti-Gay Bias, Violence, and the Fear of Coming Out.

Though most of the novel is narrated from Barry’s first-person perspective, the novel also voices Carmel’s loneliness and desire for intimacy. This loneliness is apparent from her first day as a married woman. Carmel desires physical intimacy with Barry, but the closest thing she receives to physical attention is Barry teasing or dancing with her. On the night of their marriage, Barry is only concerned with his own sexual satisfaction and orgasms on top of her without initiating sex or considering what she wants. Barry’s neglect is further signified the morning after their wedding, when Barry doesn’t think to wake Carmel up or wait for her before going to breakfast. This makes Carmel feel as if Barry is not as invested in their marriage as she is. This is of course true, and while readers have access to Barry’s inner world and understand the social pressures that cause him to act as he does, Carmel lacks this insight. Carmel is abusive and prejudiced and fills the narrative role of antagonist, but the sections that focus on her prevent her from being a flatly villainous character. The use of the second person is significant in this respect, as it encourages readers to wholly inhabit Carmel’s story and perspective, which is—like her husband’s—one of frustration and repression. As a woman growing up in a society with relatively traditional gender roles, Carmel has not learned to express or act on her own desires, compounding the problems in her relationship with Barry. She is therefore another vehicle through which the novel explores Deception, Desire, and the Repression of Emotional Truths.