Brave Face: A Memoir Hardcover – May 21, 2019

Shaun Hutchinson starts this unflinching memoir with a content warning because his story indeed includes some stuff that’s hard to read, including self-harm and attempted suicide. At a critical moment later in the book he tells us: “Your well-being is more important than a story,” to further warn the reader about what’s about to happen. Right up front with the content warning the author takes himself to task, finishing his thought with the assertion that “no one will ever hate that arrogant little prick more than he hated himself.” This is both heart-breaking and wrong-headed. I didn’t hate the angry, depressed teenager in this book. How could I? I’ve raised two teenagers, and I’ve been a teenager. The best of them is none too wonderful. I didn’t hate him, I wept for him, and for the undiagnosed depression that made him miserable and almost destroyed his life.The most shocking thing about the memoir, with its wry wit and relentless, clear narrative, is that it was written by someone young enough to be my son. At the moment when Hutchinson experienced the struggles and pain of his teen years laid out in this tale, my partner and I were struggling to adopt children. I came out in college twenty years before Shaun Hutchinson did, and I missed seeing the British film “A Beautiful Thing” in theaters when he saw it in 1996 because, at 40, I had just become a father and therefore had given up anything like a social life. When I finally saw “A Beautiful Thing,” many years later, I, too, was overwhelmed by its simple, powerful depiction of love and acceptance (not to mention Mama Cass’s amazing songs that will forever be linked with this film in my brain).The shock of Shaun’s story compared to my own lay first in the realization that, in the mid-1990s, it was every bit as hard to come out as it was in the mid-1970s – maybe even harder. By the mid-90s, everyone was aware – painfully aware – of the existence of gay people in society. So, as a teenager, the chances of being “spotted” and bullied or taunted before you were ready to deal with it were far greater than when I was a teenager and could pass unnoticed. I had also forgotten that our beloved Bill-the-liberal Clinton was responsible for both Don’t-ask-don’t-tell, and the Defense of Marriage Act. Indeed, there was so little for a gay teen to experience in the 1970s, I managed to embrace “The Boys in the Band” without ever consciously absorbing any of the misery and unhappiness of its characters. By contrast, Shaun Hutchinson saw stereotypes, in-your-face gay pride images, and AIDS as proof that being gay was the worst fate a boy could suffer.I had no idea.But here’s the important thing: I did not suffer from clinical depression. I was blessed with a rosy, obliviously optimistic outlook on life, in spite of being an awkward nerd, and despite horrific family trauma in my adolescent years. I was never depressed, and that’s what kept me anchored during the long, painful, coming-out process of the 1970s. I loved myself as much as Shaun hated himself.So, Hutchinson’s memoir is as much about the destructive effects of depression as it is about the struggles of coming out. It is a response to the blandly affirming notion of “it gets better,” which only works if you can see a future for yourself, if you love yourself enough to believe in a future. It made my heart bleed for the author, realizing that there was nothing he could do about his pain until it became too much to bear, and finally became visible to the people around him who loved him, not knowing anything of his depression.I loved this book, although it hurt to read it. It is important, because it affirms, in the end, that being gay is not the worst fate a person can suffer; but having untreated depression is. I have really enjoyed Sean’s writing before having read his memoir, and now that I understand where he comes from as a writer, I appreciate his gift even more.

I love the first lines of the book Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt: “When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.”Shaun Hutchinson’s BRAVEFACE reminds me of McCourt’s words. All teens have angst and feel miserable much of the time. Now add to it that you are a gay male teen in the nineties living in a world of degrading stereotypes and misinformation about “gayness.” It is one thing to be a lonely teen, but that loneliness is compounded when dealing with internal pressures that you aren’t quite sure how to deal with…or how others will deal with it.I am a 50-something, straight, married woman who works with teens and writes novels for a living. While Shaun was trying to make his way through the murky waters of gay adolescence, I was living in LA. As a hard-working actress at the time, the majority of my male friends were gay. Some of these men fell into the stereotypical categories that movies of the day displayed: overly dramatic and flamboyant, or oversexed pedophiles. None of my gay friends were any of these things. They were educated well-versed men of varying backgrounds, religions, philosophies, and temperaments. Just like straight people. They wanted love and families and peace and friendship, just like straight people. The plus side for me having gay male friendships (and this is still true today) is that there is no sexual tension. I love having friends who truly like me for me the person, and not just me the woman. (By the way, I have many lesbian friends as well.)That said, I thought I knew more about gay culture than many. But I was wrong.Shaun educated me with his story. Written in refreshingly honest, darkly humorous, and oftentimes beautiful prose, I learned how truly difficult it was for him to come out, especially in an era when gay bashing was a popular pastime. Shaun introduced me to an internal and emotional world I had never really analyzed. Sure, I figured it was hard to come out to parents and friends; thought it was even harder to show feelings toward another man in the same way heterosexuals show their feelings. But I had no idea how much anxiety could be caused by living in a world that 1) may not understand the fears; 2) may not care about their fears; and 3) sometimes exacerbate those fears either intentionally or unintentionally.My husband had a gay uncle who I will call Bill. His partner, who I will call Jim, was with him for forty years. Bill was an artist and antique dealer, and had been left many properties by his gay friends who had passed, and whose families had disowned them. This was apparently a thing in Southern Cali back in the day (and perhaps still is) for gays and lesbians to leave their estates to friends. But Bill did something I had never heard of: He legally adopted his partner Jim. Just like you would adopt a child. He did this per the advice of his attorney so that when he died, everything would go to the hands of his partner instantaneously. They were forewarned that family members would come crawling out of the woodwork, these same members who had shunned and often belittled their gay relatives. And that’s exactly what happened. As soon as Bill died, creepy relatives came forward to reap their unearned rewards. Thankfully, the story has a happy ending: the relatives were paid a small sum before slithering back into their holes, and Jim was taken care of until the day he passed.While it may seem like a digression, I offer this story to prove a point: The gay community is filled with millions of tales like this one, or like Shaun’s. Feeling like the odd-man out. Wanting to be accepted in a world that still barely recognizes gays as real-life human beings and not just cartoon characters many straight people conjure up; trying to get past the stereotypes and bigotry that often comes in the form of homophobic rhetoric and behavior; and mostly, just trying to survive in an effed-up world. In other words, if you think it’s hard to be a person today at any age, in any environment, in any situation, imagine how difficult it is for those who are fearful of hurting their parents, angering their neighbors, shocking their friends.Thanks, Shaun, for opening up the window into the soul of what it is to be a gay man, and what it is to come out. And not just for that: for reminding the reader that we all are the same deep down…we just want to be who we are without being judged by a jury when we have done nothing wrong to begin with.Readers, give this book to your friends. Let it be a bridge. Allow it to open dialogue with your children. And remember that whether you are gay, straight, or somewhere in between, you are a person. You deserve to be heard, to be understood, and to be loved. After all, we are all in this together.

I'd been reading Hutchinson's other books, so this memoir, explicitly written for a young audience. is exactly what I'd expected: heartbreaking, funny, wise, and riddled with pain. This struck me as a book written in the hopes it will help someone. I suspect it has the potential to save someone's life.The book covers his experience of being young, gay, ADHD, and suicidally depressed with aching specificity; it must've been painful to write. The Shaun who's narrating this is older and wiser, but parts of the book are still harrowing. He's a little hard on his younger self, but that seems in keeping with his refusal to make excuses.Since I grew up in the South at roughly the same time, I was impressed by how accurately, and in how much detail, Hutchinson re-creates that very specific context: the power of internalized homophobia; the total lack of a roadmap for young, gay men, the insidiousness of low self-esteem when it teams up with depression and high intelligence. It's amazing how many of us thought we were completely alone.The book focuses almost exclusively on Shaun's youth, so we don't see all the connective tissue between the anguished teen Shaun and the book's charming, evolved author. There's a brief bit at the book's close that covers major points, and he makes a point of explaining that the path between the suicidal teen he was and the wiser, more centered adult he is wasn't straightforward or easy. I'd liked to have read those stories, too, but that's outside this book's very specific scope. Maybe in another forty years...

This book was a remarkable journey. It was one of those books that I left a trail through … turned down corners at places that contained perfect descriptions, thoughts I know I will want to go back to.I read parts of this book aloud to my partner, sometimes because it was a funny line, sometimes because I had never read a more perfect description of a feeling, thought …. or that nasty internal voice. Hutchinson captures the darkness and helplessness that can go hand-in-hand with depression. I have lived with depression for most of my life and I’ve never read a book before that captured it so well. I know that there are many ways that depression can manifest in a person’s life … this book and Shaun’s candid depiction made me feel understood.Not only is this book beautifully written, but it is also honest and candid in a way that many memoirs don’t quite manage. I wish I had been able to read a book like “Brave” when I was a teenager but I’m thankful that so many young people now have the option. There are trigger warnings included at the front of the book and there’s an additional warning located before a particularly challenging chapter. Thank you, Simon Pulse and Shaun Hutchinson for including those.Thank you, Shaun. This book is a gift.

An important memoir on a painful subject. Shaun David Hutchinson pulls no punches and doesn't try to paint his depression as a neat, curable disease. Depression can be managed, but it stays a part of a person for their entire lives. We accompany him on his odyssey from his childhood to the present day, with a messy suicide attempt as the sad highlight. What stands out is his self-confessed inability to see the good in his own life and to take the support on offer when it is within reach. And so his successes, not just as an author but as a survivor, become even more spectacular. Shaun manages his depression. He manages his life. He achieves. He gives us beautiful books which make the world a better place. We need him in the world. Let him know that.

He’s only a year younger than me so tracing the parallels was certainly interesting. I just turned into one of those party gays he was afraid of right away. And my playlist for self harm (well, it was the 90s, so not playlist as much as mix tape) was a lot grungier. Inspiring, triggering, beautiful, and broken.

You have to applaud when a writer reveals so much about this life and intimate experiences. However, Shaun David Hutchinson goes that extra mile, looking at the experiences and conditions which formed his lived experience in a way which is a gripping read. That is an achievement.