"The Queer Afterlife of Vaslav Nijinsky" is three books in one: an impressionistic account of the dancer's homoerotic career, an analysis of his gay male reception, and an exploration of the limitations of that analysis. The impressionistic account, based on the aestheticism of Walter Pater, focuses on significant gestures made by Nijinsky in key roles, including the Golden Slave, the Specter of the Rose, Narcissus, Petrouchka, and the Faun. The analysis of his reception, based on the semiotics of Roland Barthes, is deconstructive. And the exploration of the the analytical limitations sets the stage for cultural studies that move beyond Barthesian semiotics--beyond, that is, the author's last two books.
Why, given that most of his followers were not gay, describe Nijinsky's queer afterlife? The author's answer is that Nijinsky was the Lord Alfred Douglas of the Ballet Russes. The dancer, however, had even more "lilac-hued notoriety" than Douglas--notoriety based upon common knowledge of his sexual relationship with Serge Diaghilev, upon his having been one of the first sensuous young men to dominate a Western stage recently riven by the homosexual/heterosexual division we are still contending with today, and upon his mastery of leading roles and body languages that had very little to do with conventional masculinity.

The first extensive analysis of the relation of erotic philosophy to homosexuality in the modern period, this book focuses on homoerotic (mis)appropriations and subversions of homoerotic conceptions of romantic love in texts by eight authors: Oscar Wilde, Andre Gide, Ronald Firbank, Virginia Woolf, Gertrude Stein, Marguerite Yourcenar, Mary Renault, and Roland Barthes. In doing so, the author both positions these authors as experimental and influential erotic theorists and protests the critical undervaluation of love (as opposed to desire) in the construction of sexuality as we know it.

A vivid (and startling) example of the "new musicology", Beethoven's Kiss is an interdisciplinary study of romantic pianism in relation to gender and sexuality, ultimately underscoring the extent to which the piano resonates with intimations of both homosexuality and mortality. The first chapter, on the amateur pianist, scrutinizes the way Andre Gide and Roland Barthes discuss piano playing, their favorite composers - and their homosexuality. Situating these discussions within the histories of sexuality and amateur pianism, the author argues that connections between musical and sexual mastery are shaped by the "performance" of class and gender. The second chapter examines the homoerotic basis of the creation of nineteenth-century piano music and the equally homoerotic basis of the twentieth-century recreation of this music. The title of the third chapter, "Beethoven's Kiss", refers to the apocryphal story that Beethoven kissed Liszt, then eleven, in public. The author recounts other quasi-sexual myths about nineteenth-century child prodigies, examining how and why these stories used to circulate and why they no longer do so. The next chapter examines the different ways nineteenth- and twentieth-century audiences sexualize famous pianists and polarize them along gender and sexual lines. The fifth chapter describes the gender, sexual, and class positioning of the "maiden" piano teacher in a variety of texts - interviews, memoirs, short stories, novels, and films. The book concludes with a far-ranging analysis of Liberace, who (with his silver candelabra) tried to perform upper-class status, who (with his devotion to Chopin) tried to perform highbrow taste, and who (with his closetedlifestyle) tried to perform heterosexuality.

"At once invitingly stylish and excitingly lucid, Love's Litany disentangles a rich, distinct tradition of philosophizing homoerotic love that looks back to Romanticism and urges forward toward modernism--toward the passionate merging, crystallization, camaraderie, experimentation, and mortal loss that mark our own fin de siecle."--Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Duke University
"Everywhere tenderly epigrammatic, Kevin Kopelson's voice--moving with a litigator's clean, panoptic brio--demonstrates that critique can be a form of courtship, even a form of love."--Wayne Koestenbaum, Yale University