Men In The Cities

A Review of Current Affairs by Cairo Smith

The first thing I noticed was the catheter in my dick. There was a tube shoved right down the hole. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. I felt the burn.

I was 23. Not quite 24, but on my 24th year.

It was almost half my life ago.

I woke up.

Tubes in my arms—in both arms. And a tube in my nose. The oxygen burned my nostrils.

Sensors taped to my fingers.

A tangle of wires coming from my chest.

And yes, there was a large catheter in my hole of my little dick.

I didn’t know where I was or how I’d gotten there.

It was either the end of the story or the beginning of a new one. And I’m still not sure which one it was. I didn’t now what was happening but I knew things would never be the same.

And I was right. Things were never the same again.

***

I’m not old, but lord knows I’m getting there. I’ve seen a lot of life. At times I’ve lived hard. And mostly I haven’t lived that well.

I jokingly call my social media feed “A Ledger of My Personal Failures”.

I’m only half-joking. Maybe even less than half.

Because I’ve fucked up in more ways than I can remember.

But I tried. I tried to do something. I got tired of being afraid and I got tired of hiding and I went out and did something in the world.

I got my ass kicked, but I tried. And I’ll always have that.

One afternoon, sometime in the late 1980s, while sitting in a hotel bar in Beverly Hills chain smoking Camel studs and slamming Absolute vodka (as was his custom), my dad gave me some advice. He told me that to make it in the world you have to get kicked in the balls every day.

Now, he died before my balls really dropped. And as I got into my teens and twenties I thought, that’s some really fucked up dark advice—why would you say that to your child?

Well, he told me that because I was a boy. And he knew I’d be a man. And he knew, that if I was anything like him, I’d go out in the world and try to make something of myself and that I’d be on my own.

He knew I’d have to do this.

Because he was dying.

And that he was almost broke.

And that nobody would take care of me. And that I wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

My father was a flawed man. But there’s a wisdom that’s unique to flawed men. There’s a shrewdness and savvy that comes from a lifetime of getting kicked in the nuts.

And he knew.

He knew I’d have to go out on my own. And he knew what would happen to me.

My father was a Jewish man. He studied the Torah. He knew the story of Abraham, who set out into the strange land and took some very hard knocks. And the same story happened to my father.

It happens to all men who set out into the world. It’s woven into the fabric of reality. It’s part of our journey.

He knew I wouldn’t have the benefit of family money and connections, and I wouldn’t have a parent to guide me. Because my mother was fucking worthless, and he knew that too.

So yeah, I went out in the world. And I got kicked in the balls. Just like Abraham, just like my dad.

Maybe not daily, but it happened often enough that I eventually stopped caring.

It wasn’t pleasant. But at least I was warned.

***

Set in a near-future New York City, Cairo Smith’s Current Affairs follows recent college grad and commercial artist Calvin Munn.

In New York Calvin finds opportunity, both financial and romantic. Because this is why men go to the cities. At least that’s why I went.

I didn’t know this at the time. I was young and I was ambitious so I went.

My first big city was San Francisco at the turn of the millennium. But it felt a lot like Cairo Smith’s future New York. A place that was astonishingly large and impenetrable and chaotic.

And it was vibrant.

And it was rich. Not just in culture and food and art but in money.

I’d never seen money like the money I saw in Dot-Com Era SF. It was stupid money.

They called it “The City”. And it was my city. It was like a shimmering brothel.

It’s an odd thing, this city.

Built by the hands of men.

Who made ornate lattices of rebar, tied neatly together with wire, then sheathed the lattice in wood and filled the void with concrete.

This is how cities are made.

So other men can wander it’s streets. And find employment. And fall in love with a woman. And marry that woman.

And then we leave. Because this is no place to raise children.

I came from a place that was made for having children. But San Francisco was an upside down world. A chaos world. A world of the unknown. I needed mentors.

Every hero needs mentors and benefactors. The journey is impossible without them.

I found my mentors. (But looking back, perhaps they found me…)

And Calvin Munn found his mentors and benefactors too. First in the form of his female design store boss who protects him from the “mean gays”. Then real estate developers, a corrupt politician, and a cigar chomping intelligence operative.

The matronly design store boss mothers him. She shows him the ropes. And like a good mother she sends him out into the world.

Cairo Smith’s genius is in the characters. Not only are they memorable, they’re all vivid and familiar. Like Calvin’s Sahidic in-laws, or his college buddy turned roommate, or the Dutch documentary director, or the mortally wounded sailor from Astoria Oregon (“The Goonies town”).

Cairo has a gift for rapid and efficient character exposition. It’s like you’ve met these people before but you can’t place them. But Cairo Smith, ever the gracious host, sees your confusion and makes the introduction. Soon you’re old friends, and enjoying the party together.

Another notable thing about Cairo Smith is that he writes about men. His men don’t cower. But they’re not fake “based” types either. They’re just men. Just ordinary men moving through the world.

They follow opportunity and they fall in love. They try to the best they can, then the next best thing, and they don’t give up. They don’t waiver in the face of adversity. No matter how many knocks they take—no matter how many kicks to the balls—they pick themselves up and keep going.

They go quietly yet firmly.

They travel through the world like men.

Unlike many young male Alt Lit authors, Cairo doesn’t express anger or hate or resentment. This is also notable. Because I see it in my own writing. And it embarrasses me. Just like I’m embarrassed when I see it in the writing of others.

Cairo’s protagonists don’t blame others for their setbacks. Again, they pick themselves up and keep moving. Just as men are supposed to do—and just as they’ve always done.

There’s a love story in the lives of most men, and there’s a love story at the heart of Current Affairs. It’s a romance. But it’s a romance with a masculine perspective.

We’re leaving an era where any positive discussion of male sexuality was verboten. Why do men fall in love? How do they end up with the wrong girl? Why do they carry flames for women they once knew? Why do they cheat?

Well, Cairo covers all of this. And he does in a way that, just like his characters, feels familiar and authentic.

Towards the end of every Hero’s Journey there’s a point where the hero loses something. They have to lose this. They have to give something up to leave the chaos and get back to the right side up world.

Calvin Munn loses something.

I lost something too.

And yeah, if you go out and fight the world you’ll lose something as well.

All men lose something. All men give something up. But life goes on.

And we keep going.

And we keep taking hard knocks.

So when you wake up in the ICU, and you don’t know where you are or how you got there, and there’s a plastic tube in your dick, OR maybe you can’t even FEEL the tube in your dick, and you have no idea what’s happening yet you have the sinking suspicion that things will never be the same, then please remember this:

Life goes on.

Because the journey of the hero never stops.

And, for what it’s worth, you don’t really get a choice in the matter.

Current Affairs by Cairo Smith is available on paperback and ebook from Amazon.com. Please give it a read.