When David meets the sensual Giovanni in a bohemian bar, he is swept into a passionate love affair. But his girlfriend’s return to Paris destroys everything. Unable to admit to the truth, David pretends the liaison never happened – while Giovanni’s life descends into tragedy. United by the theme of love, the writings in the Great Loves series span over two thousand years and vastly different worlds. Readers will be introduced to love’s endlessly fascinating possibilities and extremities: romantic love, platonic love, erotic love, gay love, virginal love, adulterous love, parental love, filial love, nostalgic love, unrequited love, illicit love, not to mention lost love, twisted and obsessional love …

Okay, I’m kind of embarrassed it took me this long to finally read this book. It’s been sitting on my shelf for years. I knew it was a queer classic. I knew Baldwin was brilliant. But somehow, I kept putting it off. This Pride month, after reading Swimming in the Dark—where one of the characters secretly carries this book like a lifeline—I took it as a sign. And I’m really glad I did.

First off: this book is short, but don’t let that fool you. Baldwin packs an emotional punch in less than 200 pages. It’s devastatingly beautiful. It’s such a painfully honest portrayal of internalized homophobia and how fear—of rejection, of not being “normal,” of being seen—can destroy something tender and real.

Set in 1950s Paris, the story follows David, an American who’s trying to escape his family’s expectations and figure himself out. What he finds is Giovanni, an Italian bartender full of passion and possibility. Suddenly everything David thought he could repress, or ignore, becomes impossible to contain.

But this isn’t just a love story. It’s a tragedy. Because David, like so many men in that era (and sadly still today), is terrified. Terrified of what it means to love a man. Of what it means to be seen as “other.” Of how society will treat him. And so he runs. He proposes to a woman. He tries to shove that love back into the dark. And it doesn’t end well. For anyone.

What struck me most is how Baldwin captures the claustrophobia of shame. You can feel it in every line. The fear, the confusion, the wanting and the retreat. David is not always likable. He makes choices that are frustrating and heartbreaking. But he’s real. And Baldwin doesn’t flinch from showing how deeply a person can hurt others when they can’t accept themselves.

Even though the book is set in the 1950s, it still resonates today. There are echoes of this story in so many queer lives, especially for older generations who were taught that being gay was something to hide or erase. That pain lingers, and Baldwin wrote it with clarity and compassion. It hits hard.

Speaking of the writing, though it is sparse, Baldwin doesn’t waste a single word. Every moment lands. Every emotional beat is felt. This is a classic that is not to be missed. I would especially recommend it to anyone exploring LGBTQIA+ literature or wanting to better understand queer history and identity through a personal lens. This book deserves its LGBTQIA+ classic status—and then some.

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