Review of "Cloudburst"

In "Cloudburst" (2011), Stella (Olympia Dukakis) and Dottie (Brenda Fricker) are lesbians in their 80s who live in a little house by the sea in Maine -- more or less peacefully, though their 31-year relationship contains some playful spark. All is well until Dottie's granddaughter, Molly, tricks her blind grandmother into signing away her power of attorney, which allows Molly to have her put in a nursing home.  Enraged, the fiesty and potty-mouthed Stella sneaks into the home, rescues Dottie, and then heads north to Canada in her rickety red pick-up truck, determined that if the two of them are legally married, they can be protected.  On the way, they pick up a sad and lost New York dancer/hitchhiker named Prentiss.  The majority of the movie is filmed in the cab of the truck or in the little Canadian towns just north of the Maine border.

This film is wonderful.  Stella and Dottie are realistic characters, and their relationship contains the solidity and rough patches a 31-year relationship is bound to contain.  The love between the two is palpable: it's sweet to have the third-person observations from Prentis (Ryan Doucette), but the audience doesn't need that perspective to see Stella and Dottie obviously love each other.  Like the camp comedy of the 1950s, the quest upon which the two women embark to gain legal protection for their relationship is hilarious and over-the-top, as Stella's ridiculously foul language and inappropriate comments get them into trouble and Dottie's blindness causes her to stumble into one very embarrassing situation.  However, like that camp comedy, the film is actually saying something serious.  Look at these two lesbians who have been together 31 years.  Really?  They live in a country where their commitment to each other isn't legal?  Where they have to roadtrip to Canada for legal protection?  At many points in the campy roadtrip scenes, such as the moment when Dottie and Stella get caught in the fast-rising tides, a sense of doom creeps into the comedy.  The two women are together, but barely.  Stella's right to be paranoid.

Olivia Dukakis is incredible as Stella, to the end of the film.  The trick for the viewer is to see her, finally, as Dottie did in her love:  as a woman who has endured too much, who loves big, who knows to recognize her "best day" when it comes.

Every lesbian should see this film, to honor our oldest generation of lesbians, to hear about 1950s lesbian culture and rules, and to find comfort in the camp and truth in the serious.  Other people should see this film, too, but they won't understand it the way we will. . .

A letter to the Boulder Bookstore

I visited Portland's Powell Bookstore a couple of weeks ago, where I saw the largest collection of lesbian fiction (and lesbian mystery, lesbian non-fiction, lesbian memoir -- all shelved separately, as the photograph shows) I've ever seen in my life.  I returned home to Boulder determined to create change, even if it was in a relatively small way.  For now.

Yesterday, I emailed the following letter to the Boulder Bookstore.  I have not yet received a response.  Updates to follow.

Emailed on June 26, 2014.

Dear Boulder Bookstore:

I moved to Boulder a year ago, and am so glad to live in a town with a large independent bookstore like the Boulder Bookstore.  The online component is excellent, and the employees in the store are always helpful.  As a local middle school teacher, I send my students your way to find their books, knowing you'll be able to help them find what they need.

All of that said, I'm curious about something:  why does the Boulder Bookstore not have a separate LGBT fiction section (or a lesbian fiction, gay fiction, and trans fiction section)?  I've noticed those books are shelved with the general or YA fiction, which makes them very difficult to find, particularly for people who are just coming to terms with their sexuality and find it embarrassing or shaming to ask a store employee for assistance.  When I first came out as a lesbian in 2005, Seattle's Elliot Bay Books and Left Bank Books, both of which shelve lesbian fiction as a separate genre, became havens for me -- places I could browse for stories that were like mine, without stuttering through an explanation to an employee.

I'm wondering if you would consider shelving LGBT fiction books in their own section in your bookstore.  I know Boulder used to have Word Is Out and Lefthand Books, which provided those safe places for LGBT or questioning people to find the stories they needed, but those places have closed.  I also know your website -- and websites like Amazon -- provide the incredible service of allowing anyone to use any search terms. My search for "lesbian fiction" on the Boulder Bookstore website yielded an impressive list.  However, I think the physical bookstore needs to make a statement that you recognize the LGBT community and understand those stories need to be readily accessible.  The LGBT non-fiction shelves in the Boulder Bookstore are sparse, but at least the category tells your customers you carry that kind of writing.

Truthfully, even though I have been out as a lesbian for ten years, I feel acknowledged and affirmed when I walk into a bookstore that has a lesbian fiction section.  A couple of weeks ago, I had that lovely experience at Powell's in Portland.  I'd love to feel the same way at home.

Thank you for considering my request (and my hope) that you create an LGBT fiction section in the Boulder Bookstore.  I would love to be able to tell my students -- and my friends -- that such a crucial section exists.  

Sincerely,

Sarah Brooks

reader and lesbian