New York and AIDS in the 1980s

Thomas Mallon is an American novelist, essayist and critic. He settled in 1985 in New York, in a studio in Manhattan. He was then 33 years old and the American city was facing HIV. The Library of Congress acquired one hundred and forty-six volumes of his diaries, which he had kept since the early 1970s. Before handing over the notebooks in which the openly gay author chronicled his life, he scanned and downloaded the pages on a USB key. On December 5, the American weekly The New Yorker has published extracts of these notebooks which date from 1985 to 1988. We can discover there a snapshot of the city of New York in the grip of the AIDS epidemic and the visceral fear of Thomas Mallon to be tested after the death in 1984, following the consequences of the AIDS, of her lover Tommy. Excerpts: September 10, 1985: “We have all been exposed, we all live under the sword and I am no more mortal than anyone else. We are going to have it or not. Period. I hate to do this calculation in my head, but maybe it helps not to go completely crazy. October 2, 1985: “I took the train home. . . . The first thing I saw outside the terminal was the Post announcing the death of Rock Hudson. The poor bugger. Poor U.S. The cover story in New York is about “the last word to avoid AIDS”. A doctor reassures me, another tells me that I have more than a one in three chance of having AIDS. And Diane McGrath, the Republican candidate for mayor, wants to shut down not just bathhouses but also bars.” August 3, 1986: “It’s been three years since I slept with Tommy. Am I going to last until five years? Will I stop worrying after this? Will I ever stop worrying? Part of me would like to bet, take the test and rejoice if it comes back negative. But I can’t risk what would happen to my mind if it came back positive. I can not do it. And a lot of doctors say you shouldn’t do it for the same reason: not to risk being devastated”. September 19, 1986: Today we learned of the arrival of AZT, a drug that has had some success with AIDS patients. It does not cure, but it saves time. And it is said that it could be particularly useful to those who have been [infectés] but are not yet sick. There is so little good news, ever, that one almost feels giddy about it. God knows it brightened my day. I only hope that they won’t have to try to save my life”. February 13, 1988: “Went home with the Times tonight. A front-page story about how the virus is no longer spreading among many gay men (so safer sex is apparently safe), but a great soul harvest is imminent. They say, in effect, that a large portion of the gay male population of San Francisco and New York will be “eliminated” over the next few years. Everyone who caught the virus in the early 80s – did I catch it five years ago next week? – going to die. Or almost all of them. And you know what that means: since the virus has stopped spreading and heterosexuals are safe, the search for a cure will slow down. The dying will be allowed to die — the natural adjustment of excess and perverted population. Gays will not disappear; they will simply be reduced and contained. In their secret hearts, many people will think the disappearance is a good thing.”