The works of JT LeRoy

[Mouse]

Something about LeRoy's story always rang false to me, and reading all those name-dropping, famewhoring interviews left a bad taste in my mouth.

Now, it seems LeRoy doesn't exist. A fortysomething failed rock musician wrote the books and her sister-in-law portrayed LeRoy in public. That said, has anyone actually read these books?

[kanding]

I read Sarah which I liked quite a bit but not to the extent where I was ready to jump into the JT LeRoy cult.

The recent photo I've seen of LeRoy is nothing like the photos I saw in magazines 7-8 years ago. I think Vanity Fair had a photo of him and it was definitely a young man dressed as a ballerina. This new photo is different. Maybe this is a marketing ploy? JT LeRoy is allowing his decoy to stand in for him in a more public way? I won't be brokenhearted if it turns out that JT LeRoy never existed, but I will be angry: It's one thing to write under another name, but to create a person in order to fool the public is pushing it.

ETA: Because as long as I'm going to rant about someone, real or fictional, I should spell the person's name correctly.

[Mouse]

Turns out that is the case, kanding. First, New York magazine ran a story suggesting that LeRoy was a hoax. See the article here. Basically, the writer's theory is that Laura Albert, the woman who claimed to have "rescued" LeRoy, was the real author of the books. Albert and her husband are a pair of fortysomething rock musicians.

A couple of months later, the New York Times confirmed that the person who'd done public appearances claiming to be LeRoy was in fact Laura Albert's sister-in-law, Savannah Knoop. This piece provides a basic overview.

Even before the hoax was revealed, one author got a weird feeling that something in LeRoy-land didn't add up.

LeRoy's celebrity was partly based on his tortured history as a former drug addict, a prostitute, and a survivor of child abuse. Needless to say, a lot of famous folks who gave him advice and support now feel like they've been had.

[sugaree]

kanding, it was these pictures, right? I'm not sure if that is a boy or not. If it is, he could just be another volunteer decoy.

One of the conspirators has officially confessed.

I haven't read either of Leroy/Alpert's books, but from the descriptions and reviews, I find it hard to believe that the writer ever drove through West Virginia, much less lived there. C'mon, I'm not saying truck drivers are above either paying hookers or molesting kids, but an all-boy brothel operating out of a truck stop? The stuff about fundamental Christianity doesn't really seem to ring true either.

Edited to add a link to the Vanity Fair photographer saying that she knew Leroy was a phoney all along. I'm not sure whether to believe her or file her away with all the other Monday morning quarterbacks with perfect hindsight. That catagory includes me.

Subsequently edited three freakin' times to fix coding.

[kanding]

That's it! The Vanity Fair photo from 2001 is the one I remember. I was taken in though; I did think it was a young man. But more recent photos seem like a different person was used.

I breezed through a brief CNN article the other day about the boyfriend/husband of the "real" JT LeRoy. I guess he left her because the deception was getting to him. Looks like he did just fine with the deception until it became public. Oh, and he's currently working on bringing the story of his involvement to Hollywood. Self-serving little weasel.

[Malle Babbe]

Of course it's easy to say this after the fact, but I remember reading a profile on Leroy in the NYT, (focusing on the fanbase) and thinking that there was just a little too much hipster preciousness about JT's backstory. That and the whole "I'm so creative and fragile I have to wear huge sunglasses and cover my face in photos" shtick. To go from sickly transvestite lot lizard to Great American Novelist with a rock band seemed a little too pat. Maybe it was the raccoon penis bone thing that tipped me off...

Still, the creation of JT Leroy is way more imaginative than that of James Frey's doughy yuppie as bad-ass poseur persona.