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"Everything I look for in a book: a unique and startling voice, a queer protagonist and a deep understanding of a particular time and place." —Ilana Masad, NPR
"This complex, compassionate novel is an impressive achievement for a young author who has a promising career ahead of him." —Daniel A. Burr, The Gay & Lesbian Review
"If Fellow Travelers has you curious for more in-depth historical fiction on the McCarthy era and the lavender scare, look no further than Patrick Nathan’s new novel, set in 1950s Hollywood." —Tiernan Bertrand-Essington, Queerty
"Nathan writes with the eloquence of a nimble mind working at the height of his powers. Gripping from the first sentence . . . Profound, life-affirming, and splendidly seductive, The Future Was Color deserves to become a new lodestar in the ever-expanding constellation of gay literature." —Dave Wheeler, Shelf Awareness
"This portrait of an artist in the making dazzles." —Publishers Weekly
"Ambitious, perspicacious, and humane." —Kirkus Reviews
"A gay Hungarian immigrant writing crappy monster movies in the McCarthy-era Hollywood studio system gets swept up by a famous actress and brought to her estate in Malibu to write what he really cares about—and realizes he can never escape his traumatic past. Sunset Boulevard is shaking." —John H. Maher, The Millions
“Patrick Nathan’s The Future Was Color is a sexy, prescient novel about the lengths an artist must go to to protect their career. It’s rare for a novel to be so emotionally gripping and intellectually rigorous, but it comes as no surprise that Nathan pulls it off. The Future Was Color is a love story; it’s a thriller; it’s an essential novel about creating art during war. This book fucks.” —Isle McElroy, author of People Collide
"Patrick Nathan's The Future Was Color is a sumptuous novel that captures the class, guilt, art, sex, and politics of 1950's Los Angeles with deft tenderness. Nathan is a master storyteller who navigates the complex world of Hollywood while exposing the darkness beneath the glittering surface. A stunning novel that illuminates an era." —Mark Haber, author of Saint Sebastian’s Abyss
“This brisk and delicious novel fearlessly tackles the vast subjects of the human impulse to make art and life in the atomic age. Heady stuff, so worth adding that The Future Was Color is among the sexiest books I’ve read. What more could any reader want?” —Rumaan Alam, author of Leave the World Behind
"Clear-sighted and terribly full of love for this doomed world, The Future Was Color is the devastating romance that America needs to recognize it needs. A tremendously beautiful novel of ending after ending in which Patrick Nathan’s elegant prose hums with quiet, precise anguish, reminiscent of Victor Serge and Ali Smith." —Mandy-Suzanne Wong, author of The Box
"Nathan's gripping historical novel reminds us of the power of art in the face of a cruel and uncaring world. This is a fiercely intelligent and serious moral work that every artist should read. I was swept up in this story and didn't want to let it go.” ––Garrard Conley, author of All the World Beside and Boy Erased
“Like the best of Andrew Holleran and Marguerite Duras, Patrick Nathan's new novel changed how I see the world through its desire, its precision, its porthole to a time and place that may otherwise have been lost. Achingly beautiful, The Future Was Color helps us confront the horrors of our own climate catastrophe by understanding how many times the world has already ended, especially for queer people. In Nathan's view, art is necessary, but the best life is one spent giving and receiving pleasure, and, through pleasure, love.” ––Joseph Osmundson, author of Virology and Grandview
2024-04-05
Nathan’s novel begins as the story of a semicloseted gay screenwriter in 1950s Hollywood, but the scope grows to encompass issues of identity, social mores, and the survival of humankind.
The dense first 100 pages recount a 1956 turning point in George Curtis’ life. Aware of his otherness, the gay, Hungarian-born Jewish émigré tries to keep a low profile, away from the Hollywood limelight. Then the Hungarian uprising against the USSR compels him to write a serious political/philosophical essay. Leaving his studio job scripting B movies, he takes refuge at the glamorous mansion of a married but sexually predatory pair of movie stars. George’s sardonic wit—tinged with nostalgia, loneliness, and loss—sets a moody noir tone as drugs, sex, and Cold War paranoia of nuclear dimensions rock his previously buttoned-up life. Suddenly the narration shifts to New York City in 1944. Sixteen-year-old George arrives as a parentless refugee. The roots of his adult tendencies—his capacity to reinvent himself as needed, the double life he maintains as a homosexual, his fear of his capacity for deep affection, his (or the author’s) tendency to pontificate about concepts like the ethics of destruction—become evident, and readers realize with surprise that the George who was so apparently jaded in California was not yet 30 years old. Poor and uneducated, adolescent George thrusts himself into Manhattan’s bohemian world of artists and writers. He thrives until a combination of misfortunes, including a tragic love affair, forces his escape to California. Now hopscotching past California, the narration picks up in late-20th-century Paris, where 40-year-old George has moved and, for a while, achieved a satisfying life. Though George struggles as a gay man and an immigrant, the message here is that the fear of loneliness and annihilation are universal and existential while happiness and love, however fleeting, are available to all.
Ambitious, perspicacious, and humane.