Man takes The Great Gatsby as a how-to manual, right down to the narcissism and body count, just with more explicit gay sex. (As in, Gatsby the way the good lord intended.) It’s unpleasant to read in the way obscene wealth always is, but it’s beautifully structured and compellingly written, an interesting artifact of both the era in which it’s set and when it’s written. And also, the era in which it’s printed, given it was edited and published posthumously by Merrick’s longtime partner, Charles G. Hulse.
(Note: I consulted my copy of A History of Gay Literature to see if Merrick was mentioned, and he was not. Wild that someone who wrote gay romances in the 1970’s that topped the NYT charts didn’t merit a mention… why is he obscure now?)