Chauncey has found evidence-in police and court records, in the popular press, in diaries-of a gay underworld whose complexity and cohesion no previous historian dared imagine. Even if you are not a devotee of theory or history, you will want to read “Gay New York” for its profusion of anecdotal detail-its coordinates of a gay Atlantis, a buried city of Everard Baths, Harlem drag balls and Vaseline Alley. What would homosexuality be, without its penumbra of covert locations? The genius of George Chauncey’s “Gay New York” is its respect for vanished bathhouses, tearooms and saloons where gays cruised and commingled its respect for homosexualities of the street corner, pier and park-all those lost, aromatic rendezvous.
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