get comfortable with being disturbed
on the importance of art that deals with the depraved
It’s been a long few weeks. Who am I kidding? It’s been a long, grueling year. I don’t usually set a yearly reading goal for myself, but this year I decided to track and rate all my reads. I wanted to reach thirty books in total. Maybe this seems like a lot to some people or not enough to others. It felt like the right amount to me.
I had been sitting at twenty nine for a couple of weeks. Every book I started didn’t grab me, and I abandoned them before I hit the 25% mark. Then, I went to Barnes and Noble with a friend. This kind of felt like a moral failing—I know I should be shopping from independent bookstores. I do, I promise. Forgive me for giving into capitalism. At least it wasn’t Amazon.
Anyway, I’m getting off track. I was in Barnes and Noble, scouring the “new paperback” and “recently released” sections. I am unapologetically judgmental of books’ covers. A cover should entice me, and the one for Rent Boy by Gary Indiana did just that.
The slim book was hidden in an end cap. It was a display of multiple McNally Editions, but Rent Boy stood out.
The cover depicts the bottom half of a man’s (boy’s?) face. A cigarette dangles from his chapped lips. I read the blurb on the back, and it seemed interesting enough. Also, the book was quite short, meaning I could get through it before the year’s end.
I went home and read Rent Boy in less than twenty four hours. It is by far the most provocative and obscene book I’ve ever read. At certain points, I had to put it down because it was pulling such an emotional reaction from me. A quote by the writer and critic John Self is printed on the back, and he calls the novel “literature with the filter off.” This couldn’t be more accurate.
The story takes place in New York City circa 1991. Danny, an architecture student and prostitute, narrates the gruesome goings-on of his life. This book is a meal best devoured without too much consideration of the ingredients. I told a friend it was like watching a car crash. It was ugly, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the page.
Rent Boy made me nauseous. It made me laugh. It made me sad. More than anything, it inspired me. I know a book is good if it makes me want to sit down and write.
Too many people read solely for entertainment. I’ll never be one to turn my nose up at a well-written rom-com or fast-paced thriller, but I’ve found they don’t often leave a lasting impression. I don’t find myself staring at my ceiling at odd hours of the night thinking about these books. I will find myself thinking of Rent Boy and the brutal honesty it took to get those words on the page for a very long time.
I’m a big proponent of consuming art and media that’s out of your comfort zone. I’ve never read anything like Rent Boy, and I’m not sure I’ll read anything like it again. It was so singular, which was a breath of fresh air because a lot of modern literature reads as a regurgitation of whatever trope or aesthetic is trending. I’m generalizing here; there are many unique and thought-provoking books being published right now. Are they topping the best-sellers lists, though? Is the average person on the street reading them?
Art is one of the only places where we can safely explore the darkest parts of ourselves. I recently watched Mr. Scorsese, a phenomenal documentary series on Apple TV which chronicles the career of director Martin Scorsese. In the documentary, a lot of emphasis is put on the fact that Scorsese enjoys exploring the darker sides of humanity in his work. He’s interested in the violent and the vulgar. He’s interested in people on the fringes of society.
Raging Bull, one of Scorsese’s most lauded films, focuses on a troubled boxer named Jake LaMotta (Robert De Niro). LaMotta is a portrait of male rage at a disturbing scale. Jay Cocks, Scorsese’s collaborator and friend, gave a moving quote about Scorsese’s dedication to Raging Bull and LaMotta’s controversial character.
“Loving the least of these. Marty found a way to love this guy that I never could. That most people, many people couldn’t. Marty not only was capable of finding it, but transmitting it.”
This, to me, is the gift of being an honest artist. We’re able to shed light where the shadows are the darkest. We’re able to show people what they’re usually too afraid to look at.
In the world we live in, there is so much violence and depravity at our fingertips. We don’t have to look to art to find these things; they’re embedded in our society. Sometimes, all we want art to do is comfort us. You may not want to read about the gritty side of humanity because you see it a thousand times a day on your screen. This is valid and understandable. Still, I think there is room for both.
The moral corruption we see on the news isn’t nuanced in any way. A shooter walks into a school and murders innocent children. End of story. Donald Trump makes another heinous, insensitive comment. End of story. A woman gets assaulted on the street, and there’s no one in custody. End of story.
These horrors depicted in the news are harrowing and bleak. They leave no room for further thought. Art, however, does.
The many shades of the human experience have been depicted in art for centuries. Really, I think everything you need to know about humanity can be learned through art. Art allows us to go down the paths of darkness and understand how these people end up in our headlines. What kind of systems are at play, and what kind of disadvantages are they up against? You understand the world better when you engage with art from every walk of life. Yes, even the walks of life that make you sick.
Not only does disturbing art help us learn more compassion for those around us, but it also helps us learn about ourselves. Read a book that you’d be embarrassed to be caught reading. Watch a film that unsettles you for the rest of the day. Sit with the bad feelings, because it’s a privilege for them to be conjured by art rather than experience.
What I’m trying to say is find art that holds you when you need it. Art that feels like a hug at the end of the long day is important, but so is art that feels like a slap in the face. What’s that saying—art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable? Get comfortable with being disturbed; it’ll make you a better person.
author’s note:
hello hello!! thank you for being here and for reading my words. i’ve had this sort of topic on my mind a lot recently. i’m on the hunt for more art like the kind mentioned here. i highly recommend Rent Boy by Gary Indiana and the Scorsese documentary i mentioned. if you have any recommendations for art that’s brutal in its authenticity please leave a comment!! if my words resonated with you at all consider sharing, liking, or subscribing to support my future work. love u all so much and hope the holiday season is treating you kindly.
until next time,
grace <3