Disco. Witches. Fire Island.
Those four words say it all, and Blair Fell’s novel delivers on each and every one of them.
I’ve been telling friends (and anyone who will listen) that Fell’s novel, The Disco Witches of Fire Island, is the “more lighthearted” version of Rebecca Makkai’s The Great Believers (another novel that I will talk to anyone about for hours on end). Not that the AIDS epidemic – the central conflict around which the novel revolves – is “lighthearted,” but that Fell’s take on the topic is one that chooses to acknowledge the tragedy while also trying to find moments of joy amidst the epidemic.
It’s the summer of 1989. Ninety thousand people have already died of AIDS. Ninety thousand. And Joe is still struggling with the loss of his ex-lover Elliot. In an effort to start over, Joe, along with his blond hunk of a bestie Ronnie, travel from Philadelphia to Fire Island with the hopes of meeting someone to take their minds off of loss.
Meanwhile on Fire Island, Howie and Lenny are looking for a “chosen one” to save from the Great Darkness. Joe *might* fit the description, but the signs are murky.
Fighting with his inner demons (survivor’s guilt and self-loathing), Joe takes a job as a bartender in a dive bar, and all the while, Howie and Lenny look to the disco ball, their dreams, and Joe’s aura (the colors are as murky as the signs) to determine if he’s the one they need to save.
There are highs and lows in Joe’s journey – some comical and some deeply soul-shattering – but his revelations are worth it. Read this novel while enjoying a tropical punch, wearing your favorite (bedazzled) caftan, and listening to the greatest hits from the era. You won’t regret it.
shelly. walston. writes. 