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Authors know that their muse is a fickle creature. Best-selling spy novelist Stephen Ramsey has been in a hate-hate relationship with his inspiration for months. When Stephen's publisher lays a legal ultimatum upon him, with a rapidly approaching deadline, he knows he must do something to kick-start his creativity or face the unemployment line. His daughter comes up with a possible answer: a summer camp for the creative soul. With nothing to lose, Stephen packs up his laptop, phonograph and beloved record albums and heads from Greenwich Village to the Catskill Mountains. There, among a horde of college students attending for extra credits, is Declan Pomeroy, a photographer of fey creatures who is twenty-two years younger than Stephen. The woods are a magical place, and he quickly finds himself falling under the spell of the free-spirited photographer. Confusion wars with desire inside Stephen as he succumbs to the feelings welling up inside. But, sadly, summer camp always has to end. Can a man who has just found himself really leave the person that makes his heart sing?
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This was a bit of harmless fantasy which I was kind of enjoying in a mindless way but the last twenty pages or so did manage to annoy me.
The story such as it is had one of my favorite tropes: older/younger. Problem is you can't look at this even at middle distance because nothing is explained. The fact that Steve, the older writer, is attracted to the younger man needs no explanation. He's a sprite like creature and in the midst of a summer idle quite appealing. However what Declan, the fae man-child, sees in Steve is anyone's guess.
Too much was elided and we'll say nothing of the fact that this thrice heterosexually married, John Le Carré type writer has no money and questions his new found bisexuality for about 0.5 seconds. It is a short story and no time for heavy angst but nada is just ... wow! Bonus points though for no bi erasure with that GFY nonsense.
If you have an hour to kill this won't hurt you but be clear that it is sheer summer fantasy. Sometimes that's not a bad thing.