Title: Music From Another World
Author: Robin Talley
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Genre: Teen, YA, Gay & Lesbian
Release Date: 31st March 2020
BLURB supplied by Harlequin
It’s summer 1977 and
closeted lesbian Tammy Larson can’t be herself anywhere. Not at her strict
Christian high school, not at her conservative Orange County church and
certainly not at home, where her ultra religious aunt relentlessly organizes
antigay political campaigns. Tammy’s only outlet is writing secret letters in
her diary to gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk…until she’s matched with a
real-life pen pal who changes everything.
Sharon Hawkins
bonds with Tammy over punk music and carefully shared secrets, and soon their
letters become the one place she can be honest. The rest of her life in San
Francisco is full of lies. The kind she tells for others—like helping her gay
brother hide the truth from their mom—and the kind she tells herself. But as
antigay fervor in America reaches a frightening new pitch, Sharon and Tammy
must rely on their long-distance friendship to discover their deeply personal
truths, what they’ll stand for…and who they’ll rise against.
A master of
award-winning queer historical fiction, New York Times bestselling author Robin Talley once again brings to
life with heart and vivid detail an emotionally captivating story about the
lives of two teen girls living in an age when just being yourself was an
incredible act of bravery.
PURCHASE LINKS
EXCERPT
Tuesday,
June 7, 1977
Dear
Harvey,
I
hope it’s okay for me to call you Harvey. In school, when they taught us to
write letters, they said adults should always be addressed as “Mr.” or “Mrs.,”
but from what I’ve read in the newspaper, you don’t seem much like the adults I
know. I’d feel wrong calling you “Mr. Milk.”
Besides,
it’s not as if I’m ever going to send you this letter. I’ve never kept a diary
before, but things have been getting harder lately, and tonight might be the
hardest night of all. I need someone I can talk to. Even if you can’t answer
back.
Plus,
I told Aunt Mandy I couldn’t join the prayer circle because I had too much
homework. Tomorrow’s the last day of school, so I don’t have any homework, but
she doesn’t know that. If I keep writing in this notebook, maybe she’ll think
homework is really what I’m doing.
I
guess I could write to my new “pen pal” instead. That might count as
homework. It would be closer than writing a fake letter to a famous San
Francisco homosexual, anyway, but I can’t handle the thought of writing to some
stranger right now.
Technically
you’re a stranger, too, Harvey, but you don’t feel like one. That’s why
I wanted to write to you, instead of “Dear Diary” or something.
It’s
ironic, though, that my pen pal lives in San Francisco, too. I wonder if she’s
ever met you. How big is the city, anyway? I read a magazine article
that said gay people could hold hands walking down the street there, and no one
minds. Is that true?
Ugh.
The prayer circle’s starting over. Brett and Carolyn are leading the Lord’s
Prayer again. It’s probably the only prayer they know.
We’ve
been cooped up in the church basement for five hours now—my whole family, plus
the youth group, plus a bunch of the other Protect Our Children volunteers.
Along with Aunt Mandy and Uncle Russell, of course. The results from Miami
should come in any minute.
You
probably already know this—wait, who am I kidding? Of course you know,
Harvey—but there was a vote today in Florida. They were voting on
homosexuality, so our church, New Way Baptist, was heavily involved, even
though we’re on the opposite side of the country. Everyone in our youth group
was required to volunteer. I worked in the office Aunt Mandy and Uncle Russell
set up in their den, answering phones and putting together mailings and
counting donations to the New Way Protect Our Children Fund. We had bake sales
and car washes to raise money to send to Anita Bryant, too.
You
know all about Anita Bryant, obviously. You’re probably just as scared of her
as I am. Although, come to think of it, whenever I see you in the newspaper,
you look the opposite of afraid. In pictures, you’re always smiling.
Don’t
you get anxious, having everyone know? I’m terrified all the time, and
no one even knows about me yet. I hope they never find out.
Maybe
I should pray for that. Ha.
Okay,
the Lord’s Prayer is over and now Uncle Russell’s making everyone silently call
on God to save the good Christians of Florida from sin. I hope I can keep
writing without getting in trouble.
Ugh, look at them all, showing off
how devout they are. The only two people in this room who aren’t clasping their
hands in front of them and moving their lips dramatically are me and Aunt
Mandy, but that’s because I’m a grievous sinner—obviously—and Aunt Mandy keeps
peeking out from her shut eyes at the phone next to her.
I’m
not sure how much you can concentrate on God when you’re solely focused on
being ready to snatch up the receiver the second it starts to shake. Maybe
she’ll grab it so hard, it’ll crush to a pulp in her fist like one of Anita
Bryant’s fucking Florida oranges.
I
wonder what you’re doing tonight, Harvey. Probably waiting by your
phone, too. Only you’re in San Francisco, and if you’re praying, you’re praying
for the opposite of what Aunt Mandy and everyone else in our church basement is
praying for.
It
seems pointless to pray now, though. The votes have already been cast, so we’re
just waiting to hear the results. There’s a reporter from my aunt and uncle’s
favorite radio station in L.A. sitting at the back of the room, ready to interview
Uncle Russell once we know what happened. Even though we basically already do.
My
mom showed up at church tonight with a box of balloons from the supermarket,
but Aunt Mandy wouldn’t let anyone touch them until the announcement, so at the
moment the box is sitting in the closet under a stack of old communion trays.
The second that phone starts to ring, though,
I
just bet Aunt Mandy’s going to haul out that box and make us all start blowing
up those crappy balloons.
I
wonder if you’ve heard of my aunt. She wants you to. She knows exactly who you
are, of course—you’re her enemy.
Which
makes me your enemy, too, I guess. I’m not eighteen, and it’s not as if I
could’ve voted in an election in Miami even if I were, but I’ve still spent the
past two months folding up comic books about the destruction of Sodom to mail
out to churches in Florida.
I’m
a soldier for Christ. That’s what Aunt Mandy calls me, anyway. And since I do
everything she says, she must be right.
Writing
to you instead of praying with the others is the closest I’ve ever come to
rebelling. That’s how much of a coward I am, Harvey.
I
wish I had the nerve to tell my aunt to go shove it. That’s what I’d really pray
for—the nerve, I mean. If I thought prayer ever helped anything.
Shit,
the phone’s ringing. More later.
Tammy.
Excerpted from Music from Another World by Robin Talley. © 2020 by Robin Talley, used with permission by Inkyard Press.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robin Talley studied
literature and communications at American University. She lives in Washington,
DC, with her wife, but visits both Boston and New York regularly despite her moral
opposition to Massachusetts winters and Times Square. Her first book was
2014's Lies We Tell
Ourselves.
AUTHOR LINKS
Facebook @robintalleywrites
Twitter @robin_talley.
Instagram @robin_talley.
