Dennis Cooper

No doubt, it is his use of real names -- specifically his own in "Frisk," as a character who commits savage murders in his head -- that has allowed those prone to outrage to indict him for crimes he never committed, beyond the crime of creative license. Did he mean it as a deliberate provocation, a kind of self-indictment?

"Using mine was both a provocation and a self-indictment. It was also a way to introduce the idea that authorship is an issue in the work, suggesting parallels between myself and the fictional Dennis, and emphasizing and blurring the distinction between fiction and the truth, fantasy and reality in 'Frisk' and 'Guide,' both of which play with the idea of what is 'true' and 'confessional' and what is 'made up' and 'manipulative.' As for using the other real names, it depends on the situation. Sometimes I used real names for the above reason, and sometimes I used them to ground the work in the real world of the readers in order to give it a sanity, and sometimes I used the names as an homage to the real people I referenced, and sometimes they were all of these things at once."

A film of "Frisk," released in 1995, only added to the misunderstanding. By the end of the book, it is clear that the grotesque, cartoonlike butchery is a fiction. In the movie, this element was deliberately blurred. When the film was shown for the first time in San Francisco, a furor erupted -- people yelled at the screen, there were walkouts and indignant press write-ups, with accusations such as "virulently anti-gay" and "internalized homophobia" being leveled. What might have made the difference -- at least to Cooper -- was a statement he prepared to demonstrate his displeasure at the director's decision to depart from Cooper's original intentions.

"The novel is about the difference between what is possible in one's fantasy life, and what is possible in one's real life," Cooper wrote. "It tries, in various ways, to seduce the readers into believing a series of murders are real, then announces itself as a fiction, hopefully leaving readers responsible for whatever pleasure they took in believing the murders were real ... I question very strongly the decision in the film to leave the question of whether the murders were real or not up in the air. Murder is only erotic in the imagination, if at all. ... By choosing to represent only the surface of my novel, by using my novel to eroticize sadistic sexual acts against innocent people in an uncomplex way, the film perpetuates a common, simplistic reading of my work, and this concerns me." Though the filmmakers promised to read Cooper's statement after the film's screening in San Francisco, they reneged; he has since disavowed it.

Other offers have come Cooper's way to turn his books into movies, but he has resisted them, partly because he likes the fact that books are books, with an integrity of their own. The art of fiction is one that Cooper believes in, and one that he fearlessly pursues, sticking to the same subject matter and themes that have made his reputation. Now, with "Period," the George Miles cycle -- five short, dense novels -- is complete, and taken as one long book, it is as significant a contribution to American literature as "Naked Lunch." As such, the publication of the last book in this cycle is a watershed moment. But Cooper himself is ready to move on, planning a book based on Kip Kinkel, the 15-year-old Oregon teenager who opened fire at high school after shooting his parents to death in their home. The book represents a departure for him. "I'm not going to access my psychosis. There will be no sexuality at all, no abuse beyond what every teenager goes through."

Provocation in one form or another defines Cooper's work, but it does not necessarily define him. He has a "ton of straight friends," including teenagers who find him through his books -- "then their parents find my books, and all hell breaks loose." He has friends over for a weekly "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" viewing. And then there's his 9-year-old nephew Cody, with whom he shares a mutual admiration society. "He's extremely attached to me because I play Nintendo with him all the time. I really love him."

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