Larry Benjamin. Wordsmith. Writer. Author.

I create a playlist for all of my books, because music appears in all of my stories, mostly as a way to place the story in time, but often to reflect how the characters are feeling. Sometimes the songs are just meant to tell us something about the characters. My October release, “He,” was no exception but in the case of this book, the first song on the playlist was especially freighted as it underscores a key scene, and it tells us something important about one of the main characters and colors his relationship. Here is the first song from the playlist for “He.” Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man,” was an obvious choice for a few reasons, one of which is her status as a gay icon—a gay woman who came out and stood up in the 70s saying, yes, I am. Famously, she was deported from South Africa for performing to an integrated audience, which was prohibited by the South African government at the time; her contract specifically excluded segregated performances, which made her ...

Each year since the pandemic, my husband and I (along with my younger brother) take our nephews, Max and Xavier, aged ten and seven rspectively, for a week each August. We call it “Uncles’s Bootcamp.” It was originally conceived as a Christmas present for my oldest brother and his wife to give them a break from their two kids, both of whom are on the spectrum. We planned the vacation as bootcamp because their parents are “free-range,” and thus have pretty lax rules. During their week with us, the boys have a schedule: there are set bedtimes and mealtimes during which they are expected to sit at the dining table and eat. There is an itinerary of activities, combining outings and free time. We’ve visited the zoo, farms; The Natural History museum; the Please Touch museum; went for pony rides and; we’ve fed bison and giraffes and chickens; and petted goats. We’ve been on merry-go-rounds and rides at Sesame Place and watched them on trampolines and in ball pits at Urban Air. They’ve g...

I was one of the judges for the 2023 Lambda Literary J. Michael Samuel Prize which Christopher Tradowsky won for his novel in progress, “ Midnight at the Cinema Palace ,” so I was beyond excited when his publicist offered to send me a copy of the now-completed book. I was anxious to see whether the novel lived up to its early promise. Cinema is one of those books—all too rare in my humble opinion—in which the journey—not the destination —is the point. Within its pages, there is no mystery to solve, no star-crossed lovers to root for, no battles to be won or lost. Instead, reading this novel is like taking a meandering train trip across a landscape that is at once known and unknown but undeniably beautiful, in one of those plush 1930s private coaches pulled by a stately gleaming steam engine: you feel relaxed, slightly outside of time. This novel is many things: a love letter to San Francisco and old movies, particularly film noir, and the magnificent palaces they were once shown i...

Today, my husband and I celebrate twenty-eight years of commitment, and eleven years of legal marriage. During our twenty-eight trips around the sun together, during which we witnessed and weathered The Great Recession and the pandemic and Trump's first reign of terror and incompetence. I look back on our journey with gratitude. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather walk through life with. It hasn’t been all champagne and roses—though in truth it has probably included way too much champagne, but I find popping a bottle to celebrate things big and small—even opening a bottle to toast being able to have Sunday morning breakfast together—helps balance the heavier side of life. We have helped and supported each other through the loss of his grandparents, my parents and four dogs. Together we have built a life and an art collection; we have bought—and renovated—two houses, seven cars, rescued six dogs, planted a dozen trees and countless shrubs and flowers; welcomed the birth of ...