Ziggy, Stardust and Me

In this tender-hearted debut, set against the tumultuous backdrop of life in 1973, when homosexuality is still considered a mental illness, two boys defy all the odds and fall in love. The year is 1973. The Watergate hearings are in full swing. The Vietnam War is still raging. And homosexuality is still officially considered a mental illness. In the midst of these trying times is sixteen-year-old Jonathan Collins, a bullied, anxious, asthmatic kid, who aside from an alcoholic father and his sympathetic neighbor and friend Starla, is completely alone. To cope, Jonathan escapes to the safe haven of his imagination, where his hero David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and dead relatives, including his mother, guide him through the rough terrain of his life. In his alternate reality, Jonathan can be anything: a superhero, an astronaut, Ziggy Stardust, himself, or completely "normal" and not a boy who likes other boys. When he completes his treatments, he will be normal--at least he hopes. But before that can happen, Web stumbles into his life. Web is everything Jonathan wishes he could be: fearless, fearsome and, most importantly, not ashamed of being gay. Jonathan doesn't want to like brooding Web, who has secrets all his own. Jonathan wants nothing more than to be "fixed" once and for all. But he's drawn to Web anyway. Web is the first person in the real world to see Jonathan completely and think he's perfect. Web is a kind of escape Jonathan has never known. For the first time in his life, he may finally feel free enough to love and accept himself as he is. A poignant coming-of-age tale, Ziggy, Stardust and Me heralds the arrival of a stunning and important new voice in YA.

Praise for Ziggy, Stardust and Me:
An EW Summer Best Book Pick
A Refinery29 Summer Best Book Pick
A Seventeen Magazine Best YA Books of 2019 Pick

“A stunning debut. This beautifully written novel made me sob and reminded me of first love in a way no other book has in many years. Read it. Now.” —Bill Konigsberg, award-winning author of The Music of What Happens
 
“This heartfelt book will leave you in a puddle of your emotions.” —BuzzFeed

“A love letter to both self-acceptance and David Bowie, James Brandon’s Ziggy, Stardust and Me is both charming and timely.” —Culturess

“A beautifully written, nostalgic story full of universal truths and timeless angst. Charming, poignant, tender and at times heartbreaking.” —Greg Howard, author of Social Intercourse

“A well-crafted coming-of-age story that allows the reader to empathize with and root for a young man who feels lost. . .[as he] fights through the difficulties of growing up in a world that judges difference as wrong, and how he becomes stronger because of it.” —School Library Connection

“A love letter to self-acceptance, even when the world is far from accepting . . . this deeply impactful book presents historical attitudes and policies with a chilling accuracy.” —Publishers Weekly

“Gut-wrenching emotion, stream of consciousness, and an intensely evoked soundtrack bring Jonathan’s summer to technicolor life. Historical events like Watergate, the Vietnam War, and Wounded Knee are included seamlessly into the story. Every character from Johnathan himself down to the ice cream man are fully realized. . . Give this one to budding activists, music fans, historical fiction readers, and romantics.” —School Library Journal

“Brandon has penned a novel that seamlessly melds a coming of age tale with the oppressive beliefs and actions of the time. The characters are real and complex, and their feelings honestly portrayed.” —The Advocate

“Readers will be immersed in Jonathan's close first-person narration...Debut author Brandon deftly incorporates historical events and realities, including the criminalization of homosexuality, the Vietnam War, Watergate, the occupation of Wounded Knee, and police brutality against Native people...A poignant depiction of a boy's journey to accepting his gay identity despite the odds.” —Kirkus Reviews

“This novel will appeal to introspective readers interested in cultural history, challenging relationships, and hopeful endings.” —VOYA

Autorentext

James Brandon produced and played the central role of Joshua in the internationally acclaimed tour of Terrence McNally’s Corpus Christi for a decade, and is co-director of the documentary film based on their journey, Corpus Christi: Playing with Redemption. He’s the co-founder of the I AM Love Campaign, an arts-based initiative bridging the faith-based and 2SLGBTQ+ communities, and serves on the board of the Bay Area American Indian Two-Spirits (BAAITS) in San Francisco. Brandon has been a contributing writer for HuffPost, Believe Out Loud, and Spirituality & Health magazine.

Leseprobe
Saturday, May 19, 1973
 
It starts here: The day my world begins falling, we’re sitting in Starla’s bedroom watching Soul Train. On the surface, it’s a typical Saturday morning—I mean, everything appears normal. Should’ve known better. I’m the master of that game . . .
 
After our usual pancake breakfast, we slink into our spots: Starla sits cross-legged on her ruby-red shag, gluing silver rhinestones to a pair of Levi’s for some design contest she’s entering. I bob up and down on her waterbed, flipping through the new Interview magazine she could hardly wait to give me.
 
We’re quiet, lost in our own worlds, waiting for church to start on TV—well, our version of church anyway: Soul Train. It started last year after Starla snuck me downtown to my first-ever Ziggy Stardust concert, and let’s just say, whoa: He blew my brains to smithereens. Maybe literally. He wore this skintight, leopard-print leotard and huge platform shoes so he towered over us, and his face was dusted in white powder and glittery makeup and his hair was fire-engine red, and whambamthankyouma’am I was reborn.
 
At one point, he shielded his eyes, scanned the audience, and sang “Starman” pointing directly at me. I swear his voice shattered my soul, and in that moment, the Holy Spirit boogied in me. Afterward, Starla said, “Jesus works His miracles in mysterious ways. He reveals Himself in everything, if you’re looking. Maybe Ziggy’s your Messiah,” and she wiped the tears from my eyes.
 
Since then, she’s decided music’s my religion. So every Saturday morning we hang out in her bedroom to watch Soul Train. (Finally, a church I can get behind.) And it’s about to start in T-minus ten minutes . . .
 
The TV sits in the corner on a rolling cart. A commercial for kids’ cereal crackles through.
 
Her window’s propped open and a sticky breeze left over from the three-minute downpour wafts in. Typical St. Louis spring. The wind crinkles the collage of faces plastered on her walls, making them sing and laugh and chatter up a storm of politics. Cutouts of The Jackson 5 and Jesus and Coco Chanel and “Power to the People” signs, and every female hero of hers since the Birth of Man—from Joan of Arc to Joan Baez to Angela Davis to Twiggy. Oh, and framed pictures of her secret crush, Donny Osmond. Yes, really.
 
Roberta Flack drips honey on the record player. And Starla . . . sings. “Killing me softlyyy . . .” She’s in her church’s choir, but well-hmm, not exactly the voice of a…